♪ Her name was Lola. She was a showgirl.♫

So I went to Vegas.  I got to see Mike!  and Erica.  And my friend, the ever-patient France.  (ha ha, we stayed at the Paris hotel.  I never got tired of saying "France is in Paris!" I am a laugh riot.  She loved it.  Every. single. time.) (not really she got all eye-rolly at me) (she's a bitch) (not really. *sigh*)

I'm actually pretty lucky in Vegas.  I usually stick to video poker, I bet max on a quarter machine, and I cash out immediately when I hit any jackpot over a coupla bucks. 

I won this on $20 on our first night there.  BUT, because my stupid KIDS were with me, I gave them each $100.  THIS turned into a theme, MIKE. 

I kept handing him cash and teaching him how to play in Vegas - how to sit at a blackjack table ($5 table, he started on his own at a $15 table, asshole lost $100 in about 15 minutes MIKE).  But there is much to learn about Vegas.  Not just WHERE to gamble (Fremont street ONLY, i don't usually ever even go to the strip) but where to sit at a blackjack table (what position, because that position will really matter if you take or don't take a card and the rest of the table will hunt you down if you do it wrong aaahhh!), how to only use ONE HAND at a table.  Don't touch your chips until the dealer says ok (especially with roulette), not to mention how to tip (everyone.  Often.  Tip dealers, waitresses, the room maids, EVERYONE.  But you know, we were high rollers and tipped $1 often.  A buck.  I was like that 'Most Interesting Man In The World' guy, if he was a bum).  We had fun and he got good at blackjack and won me back $100!  *plink* the sound of a drop in a bucket.  har.

I love hanging with my kid.  He enjoyed himself but said that if he goes back it wont be with his mommy.  huh.  HOW ODD, amirite?

Erica (left), me (center), Mike (right).



Anywhoozle.  This isn't so much about gambling as it is drinking.  More like, Vegas Sober and uh, that's just a stupid place to be.

It took forever to get to Vegas from Southern Maryland.  2 hours driving to the airport, park, ride a bus to terminal, fly to Detroit, change planes (run!  because it's always the furthest away!) get into Vegas, take a monorail to baggage claim (oh I wish I was kidding), find Mike, take a shuttle to the hotel, check in...  by this time I was like a chihuahua on crack.  I was weird and vibrating and my sinuses were jacked up because of take offs (X2) and landings (X2) and I was just ...  oh hell, I was feeling ODD.  And I was sober, and usually by this time I am drunky drunk from airport booze and airplane booze and everything is glowing and soft edges.  no.  Not this time.  Long car rides in traffic, airports, airplanes, buses, shuttles, monorails - that shit smells, people are disgusting, and being sober is no way to travel.

Erica was already there, they got her stuff and brought it to the room.  She had driven from So Cal - she had bought SO MUCH BOOZE for the room.  Huge bottle of vodka, orange liquor, 12-pack of Guinness, etc.  And there I was.

I don't LIKE drinking anymore.  What in the fuck happened to me?  I quit in desperation right after Thanksgiving.  Now I cannot stomach the stuff.  It tastes like ass.  And I feel poisoned as soon as I drink one.  Like I drank arsenic or Drano or something. 

I gave myself permission to just have fun in Vegas, and I didn't.  Not really.  Not much at all.  because...

Vegas is so ugly when you're sober.  I NEVER noticed before.  Because I have always been smish-smash-HAMMERED there.  Like, use your phone and take a picture of your room number because you will forget that and everything else!  Like, falling down drunk.

SOBER?  Vegas looks like a 50-year old show girl in the morning.  No makeup, cigarette dangling from her mouth, tits sagging in an old kimono bathrobe.  UGH LEE.

Night & day.



It was like sitting in one big smoky bar for 4 days.  I know, you all know that.  But for me, Vegas was always some glittering ball of FUN! Happy! Party All Day! land.  This time, the mask slipped.  Do you have any idea how many times dealers/waitresses/bartenders roll their eyes at you?  All of the times.  ALL of them.  They hate you.  But I was sober so I saw it.  I saw them.  I don't blame them.

I wasn't that much fun.  I was walking that line between joining the party and MANAGING the partiers.  I was FUSSY a little bit, like your dumb sober friend, you know?  I was drinking, but um...  I was FORCING myself to drink.  It was the most ridiculous spot I have put myself in in a LONG time. 

Being sober truly does suck.  And being drunk feels HORRIBLE anymore.  It isn't FUN, it doesn't feel all swoopy and delicious.  It feels like I'm sick, like I've eaten bad shrimp salad and I need a doctor.  I'm not used to seeing all the hard edges of life.  All the stains on the carpet and banged up doors (PARIS), all the tired eyes of waitresses and the Job Patience look of blackjack dealers.  I'm used to letting myself see everything as BEAUTIFUL because my life was hard enough.

Now it seems my life is no longer hard, and I no longer need the booze.

It's just SO WEIRD.  It's been 30 YEARS of drinking.  *poof*  the desire is gone.

I don't even WANT to drink.  I don't like the taste anymore (!?).  I know so firmly that ONE = ALL OF THEM so the first one seems stupid and ugly now.  I can't even explain it.  I'm done drinking, I quit on a whim, and I am sorta bereft. 

I am now between worlds.  Firmly.  Can a person just talk themselves out of drinking?  Because I miss LOVING IT.  I miss the party all night aspect of life.  I was in bed (or whining about it) by 10:00 PM every night in Vegas.  good lord.

I don't drink anymore.  But I don't know (yet) how to live SOBER.