*Ding-Ding-Ding* (part one) in Open Diary 2001-2018 (Pre-Prosebox)

Where to even start? I think I’m still hungover. You think I’m kidding? I’m not.

What is it about Las Vegas that brings out the bad girl in me?? Oh, I don’t know…could it be….the lights, the excitement, the hot guys, the ding-ding-ding of the slot machines, the booze, the naughtiness in the air? It just lingers. It seeps into my pores. I get a buzz just flying into town and seeing all the gargantuan hotels. And then the lights. And then the sounds. And I’m high. High as a kite. I’m in a constant state of heightened excitement in Las Vegas.

I’m all smiles. I glow. I exude confidence. I feel pretty. I’m aggressive, and somehow it must be very charming to people because I make friends left and right. I feel fearless. Outrageous. Flirtatious. Sexy.

I’m happy there because it’s Fantasyland. I know that everything is fake there. I take Vegas for what it is…an over-the-top, ridiculous, obnoxious mirage. And then I play it up! Why not? Where’s the ONE place in the world where you can truly be out of control and most people won’t even bat an eye?

And I know that I’m there for a work convention, but it’s just the fact that I’m out of the office in a party setting that makes it so tolerable and different from having these same meetings in the office—and FUN! A lot of people in my industry hate going to Vegas for this convention, but I adore the hell out of it. I enjoy almost every minute of it.

The “almost” part is usually because at some point(s), I inevitably end up overindulging and oversleeping and rushing and fretting and sweating and barfing. In that order. But then, once that part is over and done with, I’m fine! And raring to get out and do it all over again!

This was a quickie trip, which makes it even harder to “take it all in” like I am wont to do on these trips. Which just means I have to condense. And who needs sleep anyway?

Flew in Monday evening. First stop, the hotel, where there was a message waiting from Linda…she’s the woman who took me out in Hong Kong back in November, during which The Oral Dilemma happened. I should have known I smelled some kind of trauma brewing. But I got my happy self all ready in my sex-a-licious way-worn jeans, hot little ruffly very low cut tank (with bra properly stuffed), and long, sheer jacket with the fringe at the collar and cuffs. Spicy!

Bob, the guy who’s leaving my area because he’s smart, went to dinner with us and started to hit the town, making the usual rounds with us. But he ended up skipping out when we said that we wanted to go dance at the Rum Jungle. We took him back to the hotel, and then it was just Linda and me. I’d already been hitting the apple martinis in a hard way. In fact, I’d say I really should have gone back with Bob. So much for my two drink thing. But look, Vegas Baby! It’s understandable. Expected, even.

Ummm. We ended up running into some of Linda’s “friends”, and honestly, the rest of the night is one big blur of dancing and drinkage. Next thing I remember is one of the “friends” walking me back to my hotel room and making the moves. I kissed him and then finally noticed the wedding band. Nite-nite, Sugar. Time for you to call your wife and let her know how the convention is going.

[[[[[[[ALARM RINGS]]]]]]]]]]

My mind starts swirling, “AACK! I’ve got meetings to attend all day!”

My stomach starts churning, “Not before I’ve had my say, you don’t!!”

And then my mind and my stomach had a nice, long argument while I hopped in the shower and got dressed and all spruced up for my meetings. Mind won over Stomach.

….For a little while.

Bob called and asked if I wanted to grab a coffee before taking the shuttle to the convention center. Of course. We met at the coffee shop, and as we were standing in line, Stomach started piping up again.

“gurgle…” said Stomach.

“SHUT UP!” screamed Mind.

Stomach obeyed for a little while longer. We got our coffee and made our way onto the shuttle. The bus was warm and crowded. And the ride was bumpy. And Stomach got pissed and started threatening to blow up. Mind had to act quickly or all hell was gonna break loose right then and there on that crowded bus full of respectable businesspeople.

Luckily, I was sitting in a window seat, and the air conditioning was on. The ducts were blowing up from the bottom of the window. So I leaned all the way over, pressing my head directly against the window, letting the air flow up and over my face. Aaaaahhh…temporary relief. I know I looked like an idiot, and I know Bob was embarrassed as hell, but I swear it took everything I had to keep from spewing on that freakin’ bus. The ride was excruciating!

When we got to the convention center, I told Bob that I was either going to have to run straight to the bathroom without waiting in line for my confirmation, or I was going to have to find a trashcan….NOW!!!

Bob was understanding, and I practically sprinted to the bathroom just in time for Stomach to finally have its way.

Damn. Did I feel better. Good as new! And the greatness of it all was the fact that the woman in the next stall was having her own stomach issues! I was not alone!! By the time I left that bathroom, I felt like a million bucks and that I’d also made a bathroom buddy!!

Let the meetings begin!

I spent the next eight hours walking and schmoozing. Schmoozing and walking. Yeah, there were times when I was feeling like walking death, but I knew that it was all for a great cause. I simply had to keep my chin up because I was going to try to set myself up for a cocktail party and two “interviews” that evening.

Topics to be continued in the next entry (so I don’t forget!):