Festivus Fever Dreams

Here's the thing: I have just turned 29. This means I am now in my 30th year of life. Jesus H. Christ. I wasn't prepared to see it in print. I guess it's real now, the truth, no denying it. What am I supposed to do with that truth? Hell if I know. I don't know that there is anything to do. It's just a number and as a rule I don't subscribe to timelines and deadlines on life events or goals. At least, that's what I tell myself and that's what I'd like you to believe about me. But I am nothing if not an unreliable narrator of my own life. 

The sun rises over ATL

With 1/3rd-life crisis (is that a thing?) thoughts like these swirling in my head, I set off once again for a pre-birthday trip to Vegas for Kash and Dan's 3rd annual, and first to be graced with my presence, Festivus party. More on the Festivus merriment in a moment, but first the retelling of a dream. 


On the eve of my departure I had a vision in my sleep that gnawed at my unconscious until it broke through while I was sitting in the plane, high above Florida, somewhere between Del Boca Vista and Atlanta. I had not remembered the dream until then but had felt a nagging neurotic sensation radiating from the back of my brain all morning. When the sensation manifested in conscious thought I recognized immediately where it came from and I didn't want to forget it... I needed a pen and paper, stat! No such luck. I needed to use my phone to take notes! Phones had been strictly forboden by the flight attendants. Out of options and my feeble mind losing grip on the memory of the dream by the second, I had to do it: I reached for my phone, studied it for a second not wanting to break the rules and somehow doom us to a fiery death in a crash caused improbably by Blackberry interference, put my finger on the power button, and finally said my prayers (to what god, I do not know) and hit the button. I had to write down what was going through my head. This is what I wrote:


Last night I awoke in a sweat with my heart pounding and a deep, lingering sense of an insane longing gone unfulfilled, just beyond my grasp. I realize now what I wanted so desperately in my dream. Studying child psychology and seeing kids first hand as a substitute has stirred up a powerful, morbidly curious, narcissistic impulse/need/craving in me to go back in time and view myself as a kid in school. I don't want to just see pictures, I want to literally travel back in time and BE there. I want to see first hand, with my own adult eyes what kind of kid I was. 


I think the fact that I can shut my eyes and remember my kindergarten classroom - where the letter people hung on the wall over the windows, where the gold stars for being good were taped to the cabinet, where I daily rolled out my nap mat and mostly refused to nap - the fact that I can remember these things indicates the near grotesque importance of these years in my life. I mean, that was practically 25 years ago for fuck's sake! Sometimes I think I can't remember much, but it's actually kind of insane that we can remember these times at all, when you think about it.  


And it's not like I was traumatized, it's just I'm so sure that my personality today can be traced back in so many ways to that kid in grade school who now seems like a stranger, or at least an alternate self. So alike and so different from that kid have I become in adulthood... Would I rather be more alike or more different today? I don't know. That's why I want to go back and see scenes from my life, A Christmas Carol style. A Festivus fever dream style.


After I got it out I turned off my phone as quickly as possible (we had not crashed... whew) and quietly slipped into a peaceful ipod induced stupor, disturbed only by the offering and accepting of coffee (blech) and cookies (surprisingly, the best part of flying Delta). Later, I thought more about this craving to see myself as a kid in grade school: was I really formed by my experiences there? Is that when I developed my shy/asshole tendencies? Is it too late to overcome the personality defects imprinted in me at that age? Is trying to come up with material for this blog causing me to think entirely too much about myself? Questions, lots of questions.

One question I have thought about before. Shy/asshole confusion is a big motif in my life, I think. Let's just get this out of the way now: If I don't call or don't talk to you it's either because I couldn't care less about you and I am enough of an asshole to not pretend to care, or I care very deeply about you, but I am too shy to call for fear that I do not mean as much to you as you mean to me. See, I'm either shy or I'm an asshole... you decide. Hint: if you are reading this you can be sure that I care about you... I'll overcome my embarrassment and call you one of these days, I promise. You're all waiting with baited breath, I'm sure.

Festivus Now!

Anyway, enough! Festivus was rad! Kash and Dan throw a helluva party... There we all are in our ugly sweaters (a Festivus tradition). While it may look in the photo that the party had all the trappings of a traditional Christmas event, in reality it was ever so much more. Not too long after this photo we were airing grievances, displaying feats of strength, and winning raffle prizes. I won a very nice tub of popcorn! Three flavors! Also, I believe I was nominated in both the "disgruntled elf" and "Festivus cheerleader" categories. I did not win either of those competitions, but I consider my paradoxical nominations in both categories to be a moral (amoral?) victory. The party unfolded in two parts, the first at a Gordon Biersch restaurant, the second at a suite at the Golden Nugget... the "Vegas Baby Suite"! We were partying in high style, a jug of Costco rum in one hand, a tall cup of "purple drink" in the other. Both halves of the party were a lot of fun and it was great to be back running with the Vegas crew. See you next Festivus!

Bingo! I've got Bingo here!
And Donuts!

While in Vegas I also partook in some poker playing (lost); early morning bingo playing with Dan (lost, but with free donuts to ease the pain); blackjack, because Dan is addicted and attracted me to the game with the force of his addiction (lost... fuck blackjack); pai gow poker (won 6 bucks!); and roulette (won 36 greasy downtown Vegas dollars!). I had been hoping to parlay my rather small gambling budget into a rather small but perfectly adequate fortune, which I would have then shared with all of you. Oh well... maybe sometime in my 31st year of life.

Besides not making a fortune, the only thing wrong with my trip to Vegas was that it rained for one whole week straight, only stopping on one occasion I can remember. The sun came out for about two hours one afternoon when Dan and I were at the Neon Boneyard, which is pretty much what it sounds like, an old-neon-sign junkyard. Turns out they don't let you dance on the signs like they do in Vegas Vacation, but it was pretty cool to see all the old-Vegas signs up close. Look, there's a demented neon duck! Don't see that everyday.

When all was said and done in Vegas I got back on a plane and reconsidered my crazy making desire to be a witness to my own formation. I hope I don't get that particular craving again. Why do that to myself? It's all in the past. I am that I am.

Always double down on 11! or
We're so money!

Seeing my past will not really make a difference to my future. I can be who I am or who I want to be starting now, no looking back. The moral of the movie Greenberg, which no one saw, but which I loved, was: Embrace the life you never planned on. There's a truth I know what to do with.

Throwed Rolls and Cowboy Whores (NSFW) (Not really.. but there are nipples)

I set off from San Francisco, emotions and thoughts veering wildly in every direction at once, but my car firmly planted and pointing straight towards Vegas. Of course. Where else would I go when all else fails and I am down to my last few bucks? That last great American desert oasis of hope. Where dreams come and go but the stench of desperation clings and suffocates. Well, speaking for myself, anyway. But seriously, it was great to see Dan and Kash and the rest of the guys again. I am proud to say that I got Kash re-hooked on poker... he once was lost, but now he's found.

After Vegas I headed to a place I was sorry to have missed on my way out west... Tombstone, AZ. I've always wanted to go to an old cowboy town and this is probably the granddaddy of them all. Land of Earp and Holliday, the Clantons and the OK Corral, the Crystal Palace Saloon and Boothill. Stuff of legend and many, many movies. I mosied down the main drag for a while before I siddled up to the bar at Big Nose Kate's Saloon, formerly the Grand Hotel built in 1881, now named after Tombstone's first and most famous "shady lady". The BBQ sandwich was tasty and the Sioux City Sarsaparilla was.. um.. good and sarsy. Plus, there was some really cool paintings and stained glass work in the room. When I get my own whore house someday, this is how I want it to look. I mean, I know they just took a lot of these ideas from Better Whore House Living magazine, but still... pretty cool.

After lunch I swung by the OK Coral and Boothill... although I was just a leeetle too cheap to pay to go inside them. I got the idea from the outside. I spent most of the morning just wandering the streets wishing I was wearing a cowboy hat and a six shooter. I weren't looking for no trouble but I also had no intention of backing down from none, neither. Anybody looked at me crosswise and I'd shoot 'em down where they stood. In my brain I was your Huckleberry.. either a sheriff, a bad guy, or a mysterious hired gun, it didn't really matter. I had my horse (a fine black Korean-born filly) hitched nearby and I was ready to take all comers and ride off into the afternoon haze, vanishing like a spectre, leaving the townsfolk to wonder whether I was real or a phantasmagorical instrument of retribution sent from the heavens...  It's a hell of a thing, killing a man. Take away all he's got and all he's ever gonna have. Well, that's how it went down in my brain, anyway. With apologies to Clint for stealing his lines and persona.

From Tombstone it was a relatively short drive to El Paso, where I got to see Margaret and Mia again. They are doing great and looking well and as I write this Mia has just graduated from second grade and is smarter than all of us. We had awesome Mexican food at Margaret's favorite place, Lucy's Restaurant, where I mistook an overturned pool table for some kind of new, or possibly archaic, bar game I was unaware of. In the moment, as I fiddled with what turned out to be the legs of the table, trying desperately to figure out what they did, I genuinely had no idea it was just a pool table on it's side. Even after Margaret laughed at me I still didn't catch on right away. It must have been that my mind was exhausted from being on the road... yeah, that's the ticket.

Next up was a stop I had been excited about since I saw Pee Wee's Big Adventure in 1985... The Alamo! I'm not sure I ever really knew what exactly happened there until recently, but the words were always iconic in my mind. THE ALAMO. I could not drive through Texas and not stop for a look see. Turns out it is right in the heart of downtown San Antonio and it is smaller than you might imagine but, you know, still old and historic and stuff. Davy Crocket wasn't there, but his statue was. And they still sell coonskin caps in the gift shop. I stayed the night in San Antonio and also walked along the famed River Walk. This is a mall and a bunch of other shops and restaurants along a below-street-level river, again right in the heart of downtown. It's quite the happening hang out. I had a fine walk and some genuine tourist trap quality Tex-Mex fajitas before retiring for the evening.

The next day, somewhere between San Antone' and Houston, I saw a sign for Joel's Bar-B-Q. Well, obviously I had to do this. There's a picture of Foxy at Joel's. Sad to say the sandwich was mediocre, but the place had that middle of nowhere Texas charm and was clearly a favorite with the locals. I personally witnessed two separate big ol' country fat asses slugging beers and ribs before driving off in their pick-ups. So, if you're ever in wherever-the-hell-I-was, TX, stop by my joint for some good people watching and some totally average food. It's not like there are many other options.

From Joel's it was a long, slow drive to Biloxi, MS (who knew it was spring break and that everybody and their mothers was driving to New Orleans and thereby clogging up my road?). I checked into my hotel, completely dog-ass tired but determined to get me some hot casino action before bedtime. I took a shower and set off to find the Beau Rivage casino, which has a reputation for being the Bellagio of the Gulf Coast. Well, once I started to walk the casino, it took me about a minute to realize that Biloxi is basically inbred hillbilly bizarro Vegas. I mean, no offense. Not that there's anything wrong with that. I guess having lived in Vegas, I'm spoiled, but to me Biloxi was just not that exciting. Everybody else (the inbred hillbillies) seemed to be having a good time, but this was not the place for me. Hey, good for them for recovering from Katrina, though!

The next day was a short one, as I made a pit stop only a couple hours from Biloxi, in Robertsdale, AL, where my dad's cousin Sandy lives. As they might say in Alabama, he's kin. And kin is kin. Sandy and his wife showed me a great time, actually.. including a memorable trip to the house of throwed rolls and fried okra, Lambert's Cafe. And by "throwed rolls" they mean exactly that. Periodically throughout your meal a waiter will circle the room pushing a cart full of big, fresh from the oven, steaming hot and yeasty pull-apart dinner rolls. The smell will catch you first; then you'll hear the waiter's call; then you'll see people raising their hands, so you'll raise yours, too; than the waiter, across the room and wearing an oven mitt, will grab up a roll from the tray, wind up like a baseball pitcher, and hurl a sinking fastroll right into your outstretched hands. The roll is so fresh that as your hands squeeze around it to secure your catch, bits of bun will break off and go flying, so that by the end of your meal the floor will look like two vast armies of bread soldiers just had an epic battle. After you have secured your roll, still reeling from trying to understand what just happened, another waiter will come around with a big jar of apple butter and you will say 'yes please'. And this dance will repeat itself at least three times before you go. These rolls are damn good. The fried catfish, aforementioned fried okra, fried potatoes and onions, and fried apples were outstanding, too. Plus, they were fried.

Well, I guess that about wraps up this story. I spent the night in Alabama, then the next day cruised on into F-L-A and the rest is history. My past has now caught up with my present. If not yet in real life, at least in the blogosphere.

Ch. 6 - Going to California

When I woke up Monday morning and got in my car heading west from Las Vegas, things suddenly got real. This was now the final leg of my trip; in about 9 hours I would be off the road and in my new "home" town. Holy crap. I was excited and full of energy.. I was ready to see new, beautiful things; I was ready to find out how this long odyssey was going to conclude! But as I got closer to the state line, I realized there was a part of me that didn't want the road trip to stop, a part that just wanted to keep driving for months, maybe years, like that one time Forest Gump just kept run-ning. Me and Foxy the car had seen a lot between Jersey and Vegas, but there was still so much more to see.. I could go to San Francisco, stop for a week, and then head north and then east and then south, and then wherever the wind took me next. I could do this. Money would be a problem, but I could do this! Ahh, but there was an even bigger part of me that craved stability and the comforts of home; a part of me that had been wanting to stop and settle and breath deep and relax for a long time.. probably since I left Vegas the first time over a year ago. As usual, as may be the crux of the human condition, I was of two minds, a man divided. Was it fear that made me want to keep driving? Was I afraid of failure in San Francisco.. or, worse, was I afraid of success? Maybe. Is it possible to have commitment issues with yourself?? Yes, I think so.

Nevertheless, once I saw the World's Largest Thermometer, seen above, and the exit for Zzyzx Road, I knew I had crossed the border and the excitement of finally being in California replaced, at least temporarily, whatever reluctance I was having about completing my trip. I couldn't wait to get there and my mind was racing so much that I hardly remember the rest of the drive through the deserts of California. I remember at one point I passed a cow farm bigger than any I had seen in Texas.. there were cows packed tight for what seemed like miles! The rest is honestly a blur until I hit the Bay Bridge (which, as I write this, has been completely shut down for a week because large chunks of steel were literally falling off of it! But that's a different story). As I crossed the bridge I got my first look at what, for at least the forseeable future, would be my city. It was beautiful! They weren't kidding.

It was not far at all from the end of the Bay Bridge to Danie and Jesse's house, but it was far enough for me to have to dodge cable cars and go up the steepest hill I've ever driven on. Scary on both accounts! Those cable cars roll right down the middle of the frickin' street! You know, as if they were cars.. What kind of crazy town is this? But I found their place unscathed, quickly off-loaded some of my stuff (just enough to allow someone to squeeze into the passenger seat.. barely), and set out to find a parking spot. Here's Danie and Foxy on the steep ass hill where my car still rests today, some three weeks and two parking tickets later (who knew you had to get a parking permit? Well, I guess we knew, but it turns out I am not as above the law as I thought). Anyway, as with any big city, good parking spots are not to be given up willy-nilly.. So, I ain't driving anywhere if I can help it.

The next day I began playing tourist in earnest. The first thing I did was walk to the Ferry Building on The Embarcadero.. I had to see the sea! I sat on the dock of the bay, wasting time, as it were, and took stock.. the journey had been long and winding, but now I was looking at the Pacific Ocean (I understand it was the Bay, but close enough). There was a gentle breeze and the air smelled clean.. I remember thinking life was good! I sat there for a while, I didn't want to leave. Maybe because I knew I'd have to walk back uphill to go home... how is it that there seems to be more uphills than downhills?! I am still working on getting my San Francisco legs. Before I left The Emarcadero, I took a picture of a nice Asian tourist and then he offered to take my picture, too. I couldn't refuse.. There I am at the end of a pier with the famous Transamerica Pyramid building in the background. Shortly after that I became fascinated by the below seagull and took about a million pictures of her (it's a girl, duh). That boat is named the "San Francisco Spirit" and that's the also famous Coit Tower in the background. Scenic.

My San Francisco chapter had only just begun.. would I be leaving my heart here? Can a man live on Rice-a-Roni alone? Can I think of anymore San Francisco cliches? The verdict was still out, but it sure was good to be here.

Ch. 5a - Sin City Redux

After satiating myself with massive amounts of Del Taco (have I mentioned I am a sucker for Mexican food? They did not have Del Tacos in Jersey, I missed them. I draw the line at Taco Bell, though. OK, no I don't.. chalupas are too good to resist), I found my way to my friends' house. Dan works the overnight shift and was just waking up at 10pm. Kash was working and wouldn't be home till midnight. I, of course, was unemployed and thankful to have a place to stay! Kash and Dan (left to right) can be seen in the picture above.. they are about to eat burgers, exciting! Although, Kash looks excited but Dan looks quizzical and in some sort of pain. The burgers were good, however.

I ended up staying in Vegas for a week, in which time I played poker as much as possible at all my old haunts (The Venetian is still probably the best place to play, though the heavily perfumed air is equal parts blessing and curse.. if you win, it is the smell of success and better your clothes smell like that than cigarettes; if you lose, it's one of the most sickening smells on Earth). When I wasn't playing poker I went to a tattoo show (the world's largest.. ouchies!) with Dan and Kash, went bowling with my other Vegas-based buddies, James and David Weiner (I can never not use his last name.. he knows it's funny to say.. he knows I'll always be his little Jew), went to a buffett (used my left-over casino player points, so it only cost $2.70.. but buffets are still mostly a gross, glutinous experience), watched as much Curb Your Enthusiasm as Kash and I could watch (Kash is probably at least as Jewish as I am at this point, he loves Curb and Seinfeld so much), got $1 hot dogs and beer (that's what Vegas does best, baby!), played craps with the weatherman from the CBS Early Show (true story, but they left me on the cutting room floor), introduced Dan to the joys of Pai-Gow poker (he's a natural), and generally tired myself the hell out. It was a lot of fun and all told I won just over $700 gambling over the course of my entire road trip.. that sure helps! See, kids, gambling is a sure path to success!

Now that I am out West once again and flights are pretty cheap from SFO to LAS, I hereby promise to return to Vegas more often for more good times. City Center opens in December and I've gambled in every casino in Vegas, I owe it to myself to keep the streak alive.

Ch. 5 - The Thing of It Is

Leaving El Paso was hard for me. I mean, how could I leave all that Mexican food! But seriously, saying goodbye to Margaret and Mia is always tough and doesn't seem to be getting easier. I guess it's not supposed to. Oh well, as I drove away I was forced to console myself with thoughts of how much money I was going to win in Vegas. Man, I love to gamble! There, I said it, and I don't care who knows it! Anyway, besides the gambling (it's progress that I'm allowing for the possibility that there is anything besides gambling, right?), I was anxious to see my friends that are still in Vegas. It had been only just over a year since I left, but I swear "the Vegas era" feels like a different lifetime to me now. So much (and yet, so little) has happened since I lived there.. and I can hardly believe that I lived there for four years! I can't imagine living anyplace for that long now. Operation Wanderlust is in full effect, people.

Nevertheless, I was driving to Las Vegas for the second time in my life and I could hardly wait to get there. The siren song of Vegas is strong and relentless - to me it sounds like chips being shuffled at the poker table. My friends Dan (another person from Texas, a Jew from Texas at that) and Kash were letting me stay on their futon for as long as I wished.. My plan was to make my big score and get while the getting was good. I just about stuck to the plan, too. But before I even got to Vegas, I had to make a stop somewhere in the middle of nowhere Arizona to see... THE THING!!!

Once again I was sucked in by mile after mile of billboards for a tourist trap, this one simply stating in big bold letters on a yellow sign that I must "see the Thing!" Naturally, they do not tell you what the "Thing" is.. marketing genius. "The Thing, what is it?" as another of the billboards read. Will it be scary? Will it be gross? Will it be human? Will it be lame? Most assuredly, yes, it will be lame, but there is only one way to find out.. stop and "see the thing!" So, I stopped, payed my $1 (even this price hurt me to pay) to go behind the closed door in the back of the convenience store, walked along the path to what I was told is just the first of three (!) buildings holding the thing, opened the creaky door to what looked like a big metal shed, and... I almost don't want to ruin the mystery just in case you ever find yourself driving from El Paso to Las Vegas... but, here's the thing about the "thing":

Yes, that says that this car was believed to be Hitler's car.. "The THING of it is, it can't be proved." So, yep, lame-o. The rest of the "exhibits" in the sheds were similar: old horse-drawn carriages, old Coke machines, old guns, old torture devices with mannequins staged to show how it was done. OK, the place did get weird after a while and I realized it would be completely creepy at night.. a great setting for some horror movie where stupid white teenagers get axed by the local ax-murderer. Come to think of it, while on the surface this place was nothing more than a cheesy conglomeration of leftover crap from bygone eras, I think it was actually more than the sum of its parts.. Anyway, I know I personally couldn't get out of there fast enough.

Onward to Sin City. This was the longest leg of my trip, over 12 hours, and I was dog ass tired when I finally rolled into the valley. Still, I got that old familiar feeling of excitement as I looked down on the city lights glimmering in the desert night, and, just like any good tourist, I felt I needed to cruise the strip from Mandalay Bay to The Sahara. And cruise I did, windows down, arm hanging out, inhaling deep breaths of the gambling mecca of the world.. smelled like victory.. and chlorine from the Bellagio fountain. The traffic was still bad on the strip, a good sign for the economy I suppose. I was a little worried there was gonna be no one there from the horror stories I had been hearing. Anyway, I saw some new buildings and enjoyed my cruise, but I also quickly realized that a year away was not enough for me to find the strip newly exciting upon my return. In fact, just the opposite was true. I returned with a new perspective and, alas, the magic of Vegas may be gone for me now. Not to sound elitist or snobby (I promise I am nothing if not a common man), but it all just seemed so fake to me now. Of course, The Strip always has been nothing but artifice designed to distract you while you lose the family nest egg, and I can appreciate how well it does just that. But the total lack of anything, you know, real was just so apparent to me now and it was already starting to leave a bad taste in my mouth.

Don't get me wrong, I still think Vegas is a great and necessary place, and I think a lot of other cities would benefit by adopting some of the things Vegas does right: everything's open 24 hrs, food and drinks are mostly available for cheap, big beautiful bowling alleys are abundant and games are $1 after midnight. Vegas is a fantastic place to visit, but it's hard for me to imagine living there anymore. The stimulus overload is just too much.. which is weird considering I just came from New York freakin' City, but Vegas has a whole different set of stimuli. I guess it's fairly obvious, but I see now how it might not be the best place for one's mental or physical long term health.

Nevertheless, I wasn't planning on being there long term and I had a lot of lost poker time to make up for.. I wasn't gonna let a little bad taste in my mouth stop me from mainlining as much hardcore Vegas action as my system could handle in a week! But first, I needed Del Taco and sleep.

Burying The Lead

Before I go any farther down the road, let me pause for a second and tell you where exactly it is that I am going. Duh. I am going to San Francisco. I will not have flowers in my hair, but I will have good friends there! Maybe you remember these guys, Danie and Jesse, my best good friends I met in Las Vegas:

There I am with Danie when she came to visit in NY. There are Danie and Jesse together at the ch. 8 Christmas party circa 2007. Which reminds me of maybe the saddest part of leaving NY... it all began the year before, at the 2006 party, when I won the only thing I've ever won in my life (like thing, not money from poker).

I remember it like yesterday. The moment had come - at the end of a long night of waiting in the buffet line repeatedly for tortellini and prime rib, finagling for more and more all-important free drink tickets, and watching other people win other prizes - for the grand prize drawing. The suspense in the ballroom was thick, everyone at the station had been talking with lustful desire in their eyes for weeks about the grand prize and everyone wanted to hear their name called at this moment. But it was not to be for anyone else, for out of the hat they pulled... my name, I - me, lowly video editor - had won! It was shocking. The grand prize was a beautiful 32" LCD HDTV... totally FREE! It was a victory for me and for all the production staff, so tired of seeing all the good prizes won by the anchors, producers, or advertising people.. I am sure I would have been carried out on their shoulders if they weren't also so bitterly jealous. If I could have shared my prize with everyone at that party I would have, but in the end there was but one TV and, well, someone had to take it home.

Well, that's how I remember it anyway. The TV really was beautiful too, and did I mention FREE! We had a good run together, but alas, I had to leave behind my beloved in Jersey.. a fate I would not wish on my worst enemy. She just wouldn't fit in the car.. I tried and tried but there was just no way. Very sad.

Anyway, that's all in the past now and I have to do my best to move on. Where was I? Right.. Danie and Jesse moved to San Francisco only a few months after I moved to New York. They love it there and I don't see why I won't too.. especially with their friendly faces there to greet me. I mean come on, it's San Francisco! Golden bridges, fisherman's wharfs, fog, hills, cable cars, that pyramid building, the Pacific Ocean, the 49ers! I am sure I will love it. They tell me we will eat really well, too. So, I have that going for me. All I need to do now is find a place to live and a job to support myself... details. I'm sure it'll all work out. Now here's a pretty picture of my new home (as of Oct. 1, 2009) to distract you from asking me too many questions about the details.

Leaving Las Vegas

As is my pattern in life, I procrastinated a little too long with my packing. But, I have always found that I do my best work at the last minute, when I have absolutely no other choice, I guess... So, it came down to my last full day in Vegas and I still had quite a bit to box up, haul out, and pack in my to go bags.

In short, I couldn't have made it without my mom's help (only a small part of which seen here). Also seen here is my Condo as I left it.. it was a little sad, but she treated
me well and I hope her future owners like her as much as I did. But, you know, a house is only a home if it is filled with love... the love is left in me, and with the people I love.

Speaking of which... Here is a picture of a happy family on the way to the Wynn Buffet.

Render unto Caesar

Caesars Palace that is. For that was the site of my greatest poker conquest. I bested about 150 other players in a tournament to take home $4,200 cash money. This on the eve of my departure for New York... It could not have come at a better time.

I had a strange feeling almost as soon as the tournament started that I was going to do very well. I lost the first couple hands I played, but I remember thinking to myself, "It's OK, no big deal... You are gonna go far in this thing." And I did.. I made it down to the final three, me and two dudes from the Netherlands. I knocked out the one that looked like Arnold Schwarzenegger, and it was down to me and the other Nertherlandian. We agreed to split the money and stop playing... it was 4am, the tournament had started at 7pm.

Quickest long night of my life. It just felt destined, like someone was on my side. To the right is my final chip stack.. about 350,000 in chips.

To celebrate, I took my parents to lunch at the Wynn hotel buffet. If you are in Vegas, I highly recommend it.. and go at 3:20, pay the lunch price, and get dinner food starting at 3:30! Delicious.

On Blackberry and Boxes

My last few days have been consumed by packing and playing with my new Blackberry Pearl phone. The picture below is me and my friend Danie comparing our new toys at work.. hers is pink, mine is silver, otherwise they are the same, and equally addicting. We are working out the kinks, but are both pretty pleased with them. It's like a phone, but with a lot of other stuff too. By the way, we were actually talking to each other, not texting. Also, this picture is a fair representation of what I have been doing at work during my last week. You might call it hardly working. I am training my replacement, but it just ain't that taxing. I am pretty much just waiting around for the end of the week when my boss will probably give me a pie party, where people at work can say goodbye. Mmmm, pie. Hard to believe it's been almost four years.

The rest of my days have been spent packing.. I have boxes everywhere. Yet, somehow it seems I haven't made much progress. I do not like packing. That's all I have to say about that.

Last Two Weeks in Vegas

This is the Westward Ho, home of 5 cent coffee, 50 cent donuts, and $1 foot long hot dogs. It was one of my favorite spots on the Vegas strip until it got the wrecking ball treatment a couple years ago. We called it the "Ho".

I once bet my best friend Mitch $10 that he couldn't eat the hot dog (which was not only foot long, but an inch round and likely made of at least 85% rat by-product) and not throw up. He won the $10, but I think I got the best of it.. I really just wanted to make him eat the thing for my own amusement.

It has been almost exactly four years since I moved to Las Vegas. I have a had a lot of good times here with a lot of good friends, but in two weeks I am moving to New York City.. Eastward Ho!

I don't have a job in New York, but that didn't stop me when I moved to Vegas. I do have a cheap place to stay for two months.. Thanks to my cousin Ellie! And my cousin Sara also lives in the city.. that's two out of three first cousins.. not too shabby. And I do have at least two of my best friends already in the tri-state area, too.. Margaret and her daughter, Mia. I think it will be fun.

This blog will be a space for me to share my thoughts and experiences along the way. If you are reading it, you care about me at least a little.. Thank you. I'll try not to bore you.

This is the bagel shop nearest my future home...about two minutes walk. But the real question is, how far is Atlantic City from Queens? I'm still gonna have to get my poker fix now and then.