“Shock”tober, Vegas Style or the Beginning of the End?

“Oh, America. I wish I could tell you that this was still America. But I’ve come to realize that you can’t have a country with out people. And there are no people here.” - Zombieland

Welcome to Las Vegas. At 131 Square Miles and a population of over 500,000 in the city proper (over 1,000,000 in the Metro Area), it’s a close knit town. Well, sorta.

Still, Las Vegas is America’s party town. People come here to do the kinds of things that you can do in just about any major city, but we won’t look down on you for it. Hell, it's how we all make a living. If you like to party, booze it up, get your freak on, or get it on with a freak, LV (America’s Armpit) is the place to go.

While the Strip is the place most folks talk about, it isn’t really my scene. To me, the Strip is like dinner at a fancy restaurant - don’t bother if you aren’t wearing a jacket and don’t like to look down on the little people.

No thanks.

Fremont Street is wear I run. It has the atmosphere of a college keg party, and for pure entertainment value, the Strip doesn’t touch it.

Free concerts almost every night? Yup. Talented entertainers that don’t cost an arm and a leg? Bingo. Booze that’s dirt cheap? Hell yes.

But Halloween is a special time on Fremont Street. Sure, on any given day you can see folks in costume. But nearing the 31st, it becomes a dream for people who love All Hallows Eve.

That’s right folks, we’ve got it all. From zombies (shit tons of them, given a boost by the zombie walk on the strip) to girls  in hot costumes and dudes wearing dresses, there’s a little bit here for everyone. Ninja turtles seemed popular, and for some damn reason I saw a LOT of panda bears. Seriously. WTFs with that?

But what I noticed the most were the couples. While Halloween has traditionally been a holiday for the kids, filled with ghost stories and lots of sweets, it seems to me that it’s become a tradition for people in love.

So many of the costumes went together. Kings had their queens, Lucy had her Ricky (in black n white, of course), and Red Riding Hood had her Big Bad Wolf. Smiles were a plenty and there was lots of kissing and PDA. Can’t fault people in love.

Some highlights of the night were sexy storm troopers  showing bare midriffs and wonderful curves (Lucas, why didn’t you think of this),  the gingerbread man, and an adorable little gal dressed as Belle from Beauty and the Beast (she got her picture taken with some soldiers - seeing little Belle with a huge gun was super cute). Why was this kid out a 00:45? Oh, and the remote control Jigsaw riding the tricycle was pretty damn sweet.

The fun and cuteness just seemed to emphasize something that’s been nagging at me. I don’t belong here. Kids? Cute, but I miss Caleb and hate that I can't get him out here sooner. Couples? Hah. I’m alone here, at least until someone gets off her ass and comes out to me. Costumes? I don't think so, Tim.

And while I don’t feel so great about that, given what I saw here tonight, it may not be a bad thing. Not having someone that I'm attached to here could potentially save my life.

You see, all fun and cuteness aside, it seems that the college atmosphere of Fremont Street may have gotten out of hand tonight. At least, I hope that’s all it was. Because tonight, I may have been witness to the start of one of the greatest fears of my generation - the zombie apocalypse.

We’ve all thought about it. The possibility of some sort of virus that drives people mad and turns vegans into flesh eating psychos is there on the fringes of our minds. But what if it’s not just a fear? What if it isn’t just some silly notion?

Case in point, the gentleman I met tonight. We’ll call him Bryant in order to maintain his anonymity. Hopefully, my respect for his privacy won’t doom us all.

I met Bryant in the bathroom of the Fitzgerald while I was washing my hands. He stumbles in, pain and confusion etched on his face. His hand is covered in blood.

“Holy shit man,” I said. “What happened?”

“This crazy bitch just grabbed my hand and bit me!”

Isn’t that how it always starts in the movies?

Bryant’s story was a bit out of the norm on fair Fremont Street. There are plenty of whorish girls, traipsing about is short skirts looking to get their mouth on something. There are plenty inebriated men and women making out and nibbling each other’s necks. But a full on bite? Near Halloween no less?

Hmmm.

I turned on the water for him and told him to get it cleaned up. It was swollen and a bit purple where she had bit him. Hopefully, all it will do is leave a nasty scar.

“Why the hell she bite you?”

Bryant took a moment to answer. “I don’t know,” he finally said. “I was drinking my beer and she went to grab it. I pulled my hand away. Then she just grabbed my wrist and bit down!”

I’m hoping that this ghoul was just a very drunk chica. However, I would question the likelyhood of a person chomping down on a guys hand because he didn’t give her his beer. I wonder if somehow, she caught the virus and that it was starting to get to her.

Sorry for the poor image quality and total lack of blood. It didn't occur to me to get a picture until after it took the picture. That big purple blotch on his hand is the bite, right by his vein, and it was f'ing deep. There was a lot of blood and I apologize for my lack of foresight.

That being said, Las Vegas is not a physically large town. Like sardines is the way we’re packed in this little valley. If there is going to be an outbreak, what a great place for it to start. Awful convenient, I’d say.


So, if you find that a great, unmentionable disaster afflicts the 702 over the next few days, you heard it here first. If Sin City is placed under quarantine for an unknown reason, you’ll know why.

Hopefully, this is just an isolated incident. Hopefully, nothing will come of it. Hopefully, all of you who love Halloween will get to come out here and experience it for yourselves. I can promise you, there isn’t anything like it in the USA.

Then again...we may not be here next year. If the mystery girl who chowed on Bryant’s hand is patient zero, well, hopefully the slogan will be right. Hopefully, what happens in Vegas will stay in Vegas.

Happy Halloween everyone.

Fish Bowls

*NOTE: This post was originally posted on whenthemusesspeak.blogspot.com which is where I write pretty much whatever comes to mind. It's alright there, but it seems to be more fitting here. I suppose.

I went to Towne Square to buy some Oolong Tea from a shop
called Teavana. It's an excellent shop, with a great selection and
knowledgeable employees. Not only did I get a tasty beverage, but I got
enough oolong to last me a few weeks.

The benefits of oolong tea are interesting. According to Chinese folks, it
makes you thin. The people at Teavana tell me that it helps you process
carbs. This isn't true.

In actuality, oolong tea inhibits your body from absorbing fat and
cholesterol. It also produces an interesting side effect. Your body, when
burning energy, will go after your fat stores rather than a more readily
available source - your muscle.

I'll admit, the employees explanation is more marketable. It's a lot easier
to say that something helps you process carbs than all the information I
just gave. So I can't fault them.

But I digress. After receiving my tea, in both drinkable and brewable form,
I sat down with a book and relaxed a bit.

I enjoyed the travel writings of Paul Theroux. I sat tensed, ready to spring as a
small child (maybe 1 or so) nearly walked into the street as her preoccupied
mother chatted with a friend. I breathed a sigh of relief when the mother
grabbed her, the car heading toward her hit its brakes, and a very bad thing
was averted.

Would I have been quick enough if the mother had not been? I don;t know. I'm
not as fast or limber as I used to be. I'm just happy it didn't have to be
tested.

Again, I digress and turn my attention to people watching.

Las Vegas, when you get right down to it, is little more than a barren
desert. We get our water from somewhere else, and the trees we enjoy in Sin
City are usually of the palm variety, which means it's actually a type of
grass (look it up if you don't believe me).

But real grass in this dust bowl is at a premium and many places substitute
AstroTurf. Neighborhoods have this cheap, green fabric, and so does Towne
Square. And the local couples flock to it; it's one of the things I find
interesting in this otherwise cesspool of a town.

Las Vegas, to me and many others, is a place to go to create some sort of a
memory. And while our marketing geniuses will tell you that what happens
here stays here, it  makes me wonder about the people who call the town home. What kind of place is this to live if you're young (or old, for that matter) and in love?

What is there to do? Where is there to go? What kind of memories can you
make?

You can go to Mt Charleston for real green, but the average tourist won't be
doing that. You can visit Lake Meade for your water fix, but even that is
man made. So does that mean that all of our potential memories are false?

No. And I debated this with myself for awhile, but the only answer I can
give is no. The memories you'll take back from Vegas, while built on fake
grass or quick drying concrete, are not fake. We are a town of masks; nothing truly fake, but you never really see what's real.

Towne Square has the quaint, pretty little setting. There are light strung up and a small gazebo. Plenty of tables and benches are there for you to relax on. Or you can just lay on the "grass" near the water.

The water is designed to be a like a small brook, complete with a sort of little island. There is a little bridge that goes over it and the rocks are all fake (or at least covered by some kind of sprayed on concrete, which lends them the look). In all, watching the happy couples laying in each others arms, it give a true sense of serenity.

And it reminds me of a fish bowl. Fake plants, rocks and cheap decorations make the fish feel safe and at home. This is what Towne Square is like as well. In fact, much of Vegas is like this.

Think about it. Caesar's Palace is designed to look like something out of Roman history. The Luxor harkens back to ancient Egypt. And the Venetian is meant to whisk you off with its romantic vision of Venice (it fails because the water is much cleaner than the real thing).

And while all of these things are false, it doesn't make the memories you can make here any less real. In our little fishbowl, in the middle of the desert, you can enjoy sites and sounds from around the world.

Here, we have the Eiffel Tower, castles and pirate ships. And while none of these can compare to the real thing, it's a lot cheaper and the pictures are just as lovely.

So back to my point. What does this mean for the people who call Las Vegas home? It's simple.

We have the world at our finger tips. And people from all walks of life, from all over come here just to see what we've managed to carve out. It's a paradise in a wasteland. It's a fishbowl in the bedroom of America.

Plus, we got tons of hookers.

WTF (what's this for)?

I've been doing a lot of thinking lately, wondering to myself why it is that I do some of the things that I do. Why I feel this need to be outdoors or this near unbearable urge to be away and in situations where I am alone or in some sort of danger.

Am I an adrenaline junky? Do I need to feel alive? No, that isn't it. Do I hate people and being around them? No. I rather like people.

So what is it? Why do I do the things that I do, and what's the point of it?

I'm starting to realize that no matter who says that they love me, or how many friends claim to "get me", they never really will. Because my answer makes it difficult for people to accept me.

The point of the things that I do is fairly simple. I do them to do them. Why? I don't really know, and it doesn't really matter.

Oh, it matters to everyone else. But I do things because something in me says it needs to be done. The question "why" makes me feel childlike because the only response I can come up with is "because".

I have met some amazing people in my life and shared time with some amazing, lovely women. But I don't honestly believe that there is a woman, or even a friend of any gender really, that could accept this about me. It doesn't make a lot of sense and I'm aware of that.

Do I think I'll grow old and die alone. Actually, no, I don't. But I think that marriage will be an adventure for another time. Perhaps if I meet a gal who is willing to hike the Appalachian Trail with me I'll have found the one.

Oh, and I'm not talking about walking on part of the trail. I'm talking about the whole damn thing. Over 2000 miles. At typical speed, you're talking about 6 months. Why would I even want to do that?

Because it's there. Hell, my question would be, why not?

The things that I do, and at a more basic level the things I seem to want(I guess, though it could be the other way around) make sense to me only because they "FEEL" right. I'm not necessarily talking about emotions, either. It's tough to explain.

I guess it's like finding someone you know you want to spend the rest of your life with(you know, until you realize that he has no definable direction and only answers your questions with "because" or "I don't know"). That initial feeling of, "this is right". That's how it feels for me. It just feels right.

And it's one of the only things in my life that has felt right without wavering. It has its share of stresses involved (like thinking you might plummet to your death or getting lots of cuts and bruises from stumbling into those DAMN thorn bushes that seem to be all over out here), but when all is done, I feel right.

That's what matters to me. Feeling right. With my world and myself. Try it. You might like it.