Vegas Trip - NAB 2007

I feel like it's coming out my pores. Vegas, that is. I'm sweating, shaking, and nauseous and I can't regulate my temperature. I'll say first, no, I did not drink that much while in Vegas. I was very responsible. I had a good time, but I was reserved and controlled. I didn't gamble either (it's never really done anything for me - I can think of much more stimulating ways to piss away my hard earned money).

So what is it that's caused this reaction? Did I simply pick up some sort of a cold or flu? Am I processing out all the toxins that saturate the Casino air, or, was it a result of my long daily walks around the strip and beyond, breathing in aspirated shame, money, and ill fate? Whatever it is, it doesn't feel good.

The trip itself was very interesting. It was my first time going to the National Association of Broadcasters convention. I heard an unconfirmed rumor that they estimated 200,000 attendees. From the size of the crowds, I can believe it. It was spread out over several halls, filling the interior and exterior spaces of the the Las Vegas Convention Center and driving the cost of hotel rooms through the proverbial ceiling. I was fortunate to stay close to the Convention Center (.8 miles according to Google Maps). I was also fortunate to NOT stay at Circus Circus. I've never actually been there, but I've seen it on TV and I really don't like clowns, so, I think I'm good.

The hotel (Frontier) was interesting. It was a blend of old west kitsch, vintage Vegas cheese, and toothless red state flannel wearers, tearing through penny slots and packs of Winstons with abandon. Maybe I'm just a coastal elitist liberal, but I really expected to see the Clampetts roll up in the Valet area with Granny in her rocking chair, covered in bug guts from the 45 mph ride up I-15. The primary restaurant (Gilley's) is a barbecue and beer place with sawdust on the floor and two kinds of music - Country and Western.
A mechanical bull is a prominent feature of the decor and inebriated patrons shriek with delight as they are ritually thrown to the blue naugahide mat that surrounds the beast. I am not sure, but it appeared as though the operator (and therefore the Bull) took offense when a rider was particularly cocky or took an overly muscular hold of the device, as though to signal his intent to last the required eight seconds. As though it were his charge from God himself, the bull operator rewarded their vainglory with a swift and decisive trip to the mat. To add insult to injury, after downing its victim, the beast threw it's head defiantly as if to say "Mechanical Bull rules, drunken patrons drool." It should be noted, with obvious sadness, that I missed the highlight of the establishment - bikini bull riding. I'm not exactly kicking myself for this, but I'm not that happy about it either. Moving on now...

I ordered a half rack of ribs with a salad, chef's vegetables, and macaroni and cheese. I didn't really intend to eat much of the mac and cheese, but it sounded really good. The waitress (quite attractive in her hat, chaps, and bikini) cautioned me that the vegetables weren't really all that healthy; that they were green beans sauteed with bacon and onion. I was not surprised to learn that they didn't have any steamed mixed vegetables to substitute. Soon, a small oval plate, laden with limp iceberg lettuce, surely exposed to the rigors of time and heat lamps, was delivered to my table. I had no way of knowing at the time, but tomato, cucumber, and mixed cheese (jack and cheddar, I believe) were buried under what must have been nearly a cup of blue cheese dressing. I ate around the dressing as much as possible, but finally gave up on the salad. The main course came swiftly on an oversized platter with a wooden handle and heated metal plate, similar to a fajita plate. The mac and cheese was, of course, to die for. Unfortunately, I mean this literally. Presumably in the spirit of openness and full disclosure, you could actually see all the fat and oil separating from the food - no plausible deniability here. I had a few bites of it just to say I did, then pushed it away. The green beans were better than I had thought - they were cooked, but still snappy and had a mild flavor. They were clearly cooked with bacon, but not fried in rendered fat. The ribs were okay, but the sauce lacked punch (I had to request some hot sauce to get the flavor just right). The beer selection was pretty bad, so I ordered a Woodford Reserve on the rocks and sipped on that through the meal.

After dinner, I needed a walk, so I set out and headed North, up the strip. I did a big loop up the strip, over to Industrial, and back down to the hotel. It took about an hour and a half, so I estimate I walked somewhere between 4-6 miles. It was late when I got back to the hotel and I went straight to the room, ignoring the flannel and polyester clad nicotine disposal units who had by this time grafted themselves to the slot machines. After about an hour lying in bed, it occurred to me that the food probably had MSG in it because, try as I might, I couldn't sleep. I lamented my decision to eat at the Casino. As the night passed, my anxiety increased. I had a lot of ground to cover Monday and I wasn't going to perform well on no sleep. I finally fell asleep around 5 a.m. and slept soundly until 6:30.

NAB was HUGE. Got there early, got in the long, long lines for registration. Waited, waited, felt my feet swell from lack of sleep, bad food, and too much standing. Finally got checked in and started cruising the show. It quickly became apparent that the size and scope of this show was so large that there was no way I'd get to see the things I wanted to unless I came up with a plan. I decided to focus on two areas: digital asset management and file transport/replication. I thumbed through the book and found some likely vendors, made a note of their locations, and set off. I attended a few panel sessions on Digital Asset Management - a very interesting aspect of video production technology. I took the opportunity to review some specifics of our situation with the panel and got some good advice and product leads. I spent the remainder of the day perusing the booths, pressing the flesh, and checking out the cool stuff.

So, I needed to go to the ATM. I didn't take out enough cash before flying down and my dinner from the previous night coupled with coffee, breakfast, lunch, etc had all but wiped me out. I pulled up google maps and did a search for an ATM from my bank. I found one that looked reasonably close, made a note of the path I should take to get there, and struck out. By this point, it was early evening and still hot from the day. It was too hot to wear my sportcoat, so I took it off and packed it in my already bulging backpack. So, I'm walking along, in a city I don't know and I realize that I am going further and further from the relative safety and security of the Strip. Hotels, restaurants, and business parks gave way to motels (weekly rates available), bars, porno shops, and corner markets. Shady apartment complexes and dilapidated houses rose out of the dusty ground; the speeding, thumping cars and staring locals reduced my comfort level significantly. So, here I am, walking along, and I want to doublecheck the address. I couldn't remember if it was in the 100 or 1000 block. I had just passed 100, and there was nothing. Earlier in the day, on the way to the convention center, Google Maps had led me to believe there would be a branch at 101 Convention Center drive. Yeah, that didn't work out so well - no branch.

So now, I'm thinking, maybe it's wrong again - maybe I'm going too far into this bad area with a $3000 laptop strapped to my back and a "beat the fuck out of my and steal all my crap" sign pinned to my back. I can't check the bank's website because it doesn't work with the browser on my phone, and I can't very well pull out the laptop on the side of road and check it - I may as well just beat myself to a pulp, leave the laptop on the curb, and walk back to the hotel. So, what could I do? I'd gone this far (at least a mile by now); I kept going. I stood a little taller, got a cold, badass look on my face, pushed my chest out, and pressed on. Eventually, after a couple more sketchy looks, swerving cars that I thought would jump the curb, and other assorted acts of mischief, I arrived at a Von's grocery store with a small branch inside. I went in, got my cash, purchased two 22 oz bottles of Arrogant Bastard, and called for a taxi to take me back to the hotel. I checked later - the walk from the convention center was about two miles.
Got back to the hotel, held my breath, waved hello to the toothless flannel clad hicks, and went upstairs to enjoy my beer and some well earned TV time. I was happy to discover that the room had a mini fridge. The second beer would stay nice and cold. Flipped around for a little while until finding a show on VH1 about top 10 tv pranks, or something. Seems like VH1 is making its living off of clip shows these days. Comedians, D-Listers, and ex-hipsters making snarky comments between clips with the narrator prattling on about something. This show, I actually enjoyed because it featured two of my favorite reality shows (there aren't many I like) The Joe Schmo Show and Film Fakers.
I watched a few other things (clearly not memorable) and finished my other beer. Now that the sun had set (I saw it myself - through my window, no less), I freshened up and struck out for dinner. No way in Hell was I going to eat in the casino again, so I headed out onto the strip. I walked across to TI, originally with the intent of passing through and finding something else, but somehow I ended up at Isla, the upscale Mexican place inside. Michelle and I really enjoyed it the last time we were here, so I got a table, ordered a nice tequila and surf & turf, fancy Mexican style. The meal was excellent and the tequila was outstanding. Definitely made up for the night before's abysmal cuisine. After dinner, I felt like walking again - seems like the best way to stay out of trouble in Vegas is to keep moving. I walked all the way down the strip to the MGM Grand, then caught the Monorail back to Bally's and walked back to the Frontier.

Next day, I wrapped up the few loose ends I had left and got myself the Hell outta Dodge. I was feeling really run down and crappy (still am) so I hit the couch and rested as soon as I got home. Still managed to keep up on email and put some coherent thoughts together, but not much more.