-What Happens In Vegas....Part 1

Wednesday, Feb. 02, 2011-part one of two
"What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas" � (unless you�re arrogant enough post it online)

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It seems like a lifetime ago. I have been in a reflective mode , for the past five weeks, summoning up every detail of my collection of memories of what happend in Vegas. I play them over and over in my mind , like watching a brook running over pebbles and sand, like the rhythm of tapping a pencil on my fingers.

It was more than just two people going away together: It was a reflection of the best things that are possible between two people and, to the best of my knowledge, it was the best time I could possibly have. This trip was the end of the continuum , of the seamless transition from what I could never have imagined four and a half years ago, into that which I will probably treasure until my last breath.

It all started a few months ago. Jay had planned to attend a convention in December . He surprised me and asked if I might be able to get away and meet him in Las Vegas. That drunken cocoon of clockless, unstructured time, and cultural vapidity, had always intrigued me. I always admired the ingenious tourism marketing phrase : "What Happens in Vegas Stays in Vegas" . I told Jay that I didn't know if I would be able to get time off work, and make arrangements for the kids, but I'd try...

"Try" ? That was before I realized that the joy of "what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas " meant I could unleash any kind of morally destructive debaucherous excessive unhealthy behavior and come back guiltless with absolutely no repercussions -- ( Then again, shouldn�t I be doing that anyway? )-- In hyperventilating urgency I said "YES ! Jay, book me a plane ticket!" Take me to "Sin City".

Debates over terminology and semantics are for archivists and academics. While some call it �Sin City� I prefer to think of it as a city that is unburdened by the sins of its past. Atheist , evangelical, or any derivative in between, every non-judgmental debauched whim anyone could possibly have was at their command. Maybe even mine.

In my naive delusion I made a list of things I wanted to do (Besides the obvious ; " indulge in the seven deadly sins" .) Gambling was not on my list . Life itself is unpredictable and exciting enough for me. ( Jay is like that too. ) There is a museum of atomic energy I wanted go to and an exhibition of the cells and organs of the human body that I always wanted to see. There was a medical convention about advances in aging process that Jay could get us into. Looking back, that was a list for stuffy academics visiting Cambridge, Massachusetts, not the must-do list for the Las Vegas that I came to know.

"Half of what you have packed for Vegas , you won't need in Vegas"

Sir Issac Newton discovered that any two objects in the universe attract each other, and that this force is proportional to their mass. Air travel seems to defy Newtonian law, but an understanding of physics explains it.(sort of...)

Not everything can be explained through physics, though.

Iʼve spent years searching for a rational explanation for the weight of my luggage when I am travelling for only a few days.. . No matter how creatively structured ,there is no plausible explanation for the uncommon density . It is just a twist of my nature.

I was up late the night before my flight, trying to rearrange what I had packed . I had what I considered to be the minimum essential items that I'd need for any anticipated or unforseen event in Vegas : All my ridiculously fancy clothes , a total extravaganza of jewels, make up, hair products, furs , sexy underwear and sparkly shoes. ( Just in case I need them..)

When I tried to close the suitcase, it weighed at least 60 pounds and the zipper was about to burst from fabric strain.. I had to re-think the contents.

According to authorities ranging from the Dalai Lama to the editors of Cosmo, Trying to look elegant is even more important when you are travelling with a man with whom you have never stayed for more than one overnight at a time. I wanted to look good,( no matter how much the high end cosmetics in the luggage weighed for me to look that way).

I was on that perilous cliff-side perch , on the other side of the number fifty, edging closer to one of those "Big Half Decade Birthdays". Unfortunately for me, time moves forward not backward as I might wish.

Each time I achieved a smaller lighter version I would inevitably I'd I ask myself the rhetorical question "What else do I need ? What am I missing?" ...(Besides self control ?, decisiveness? Sensible sleep?) . At one point I made my final minimalist decision on the matter, and got into bed.

I knew I would have to check this suitcase. I had been experiencing neck pain in the last few months. . Hauling this suitcase in and out of the car, and up and over my head to the overhead compartment will cause a problem.

I dont know exactly how I hurt my neck. Let's just say it has nothing to do with my age. It must have happened while I was "living life to the fullest" being youthful and robust.

It is actually due to a gradual loss of synovial fluid in my vertebrae and a slight loss of upper body muscle . This contradicts my deluded image of myself as eternally athletic, youthful and impervious to aging. There has got to be another explanation besides this " loss of muscle " theory.

Returning to physics, according to Monsieur Antoine Lavoisier, and his Law of Conservation of Mass , muscle canʼt be �lost.� �Matter can be neither created nor destroyed, it can only be rearranged.�

Some of my body has apparently been , shall we say, "rearranged".

I had a reflexive flash of panic about my checked luggage, but then I realized it didn't matter in the least to Jay. It is such a luxury to travel with a man who has the patience to wait another 5 minutes for checked bags . I remember time after time ,travelling with the kids, and having Stepmother J. and dad pick us up at the airport . She would warn me that she will not tolerate waiting at the airport for anyone's luggage, and insisted that everything be carried on.

I got up that morning, hauled my luggage into the trunk, drove the kids to school and went to work...on three hours of sleep.

Following a non-productive seven degree day at the office, at 2:30 p.m. we got into Pharm Girl's car and drove to the airport. It was a tropical 65 degrees in Las Vegas ! There would not be any swim-up bars or pool parties , but I was going to love every second of it.

(to be continued . Go to "List of All Entries" and click "What Happens in Vegas ...Part 2"� )

go to the prior entry * +