Reality bites

Here I am in Las Vegas. In a hotel room. Puttering about on a computer. I suppose I should be gambling. After all, that's the point of Vegas, isn't it? To pointlessly lose money at a much faster rate than you earned it and call it "entertainment"? I did a little of that last night after dinner. It took me a solid 45 minutes at a $5 minimum Blackjack table to lose $100 while I spent the same amount taking 3 ¹/₂ hours playing golf. Ok, I spent a little more at golf if you include the outrageously priced iced tea ($4) and the outrageously priced Bloody Mary ($6) along with the $99 greens fee. At least there was some exercise and a few rare instances of skill to be experienced in the golf game.

So I am about burned out on gambling. Have been for years really. Faye likes to gamble (which is why we did not retire to Las Vegas or anywhere that has a casino) and has no trouble parking herself in front of a slot machine for hours at a time. I am not complaining. She joins these Player's Clubs that each casino/hotel has and she gets offers for comped rooms on a regular basis. It cost us nothing for a two night stay in Biloxi at the Hard Rock Hotel, nothing for a three night stay at New York New York in Vegas. And Faye doesn't miss me while I take off for a few hours and play golf when we come here (or go to Biloxi).

One of the nice things about Vegas is the "eye candy". What is "eye candy", you ask? That would be the young, nubile women who strut around the casinos and hotels and the strip. That used to be one of the things I enjoyed most about visits to Vegas. Now that I am... ahem... a little older, I find myself aghast at the fact that most, if not all, of the pretty ladies are young enough to be my granddaughters.

I would not actually try to pick up one of these young women. I am a faithful, loyal, husband. That doesn't mean I don't have a fantasy world nestled in the recesses of what passes for my brain. I am a male, after all. It's just that even that gets tainted by the reality of the gray hairs of my beard and hair. It's no fun realizing you are just another old goat that these women are both appalled and amused by.

Still, those are nice fantasies...

This trip, I ran into some guys who were on a bachelor party visit (a few days of bachelor party certainly beats a one nighter with the requisite killer hangover) at the golf course and a wedding party on the elevator when I got back to the hotel. People come to Vegas for both that last fling before the vows and to take those vows. Was married here myself... twice. It's fitting. What is a greater gamble than marriage?

But fantasies and realities aside, tomorrow it is off to California.