(Ah, just go to the slideshow.)
Made it back from Vegas safe and sound on Tuesday. The event was a disaster: the exhibit hall was so far from the conference sessions that few of the attendees stopped in to see us. I knew things would be bad when I picked up my exhibitor/press badge on Sunday afternoon.
I asked a staffer, “Where’s the exhibit hall?”
“Well, you can see it if you look out the window over there, behind the pool area.”
“Do I have to jump out the window to get there?”
“No. If you take the escalator down three floors, turn left, go through that section of the mall, make a left by the towel station, turn right as you get outside by the pool, then follow the covered walkway past the construction signs, you’ll be right there.”
“. . . Really.”
“There’s a map in your conference-bag!” the staffer added. It was, after all, a conference for engineers. I shook my head resignedly, checked my cell phone for the time, and started walking to the hall. It took 8 minutes on foot.
Over the next two days, the 300 tabletop exhibitors joked about how overwhelmed we were with foot traffic, and how we might run out of giveaways. One guy was reading through the Society’s upcoming events. “Oh!” he said. “Next year’s conference is in Boca and ‘exhibit space is limited.'”
“Yeah,” said another, “limited to the number of guys who actually bother to exhibit after this experience.”
You have lots of time to make these jokes when your exhibit hall opens at 7:15 in the morning. In Las Vegas.
We concluded that we’d have had a better chance of reaching the attendees if we set up the exhibits next to the slot machines and poker tables in the casino. But you go to Vegas, and you take your chances.
I mean, you take a chance that your hotel will actually have the non-smoking room you reserved. I lost that bet, and spent three nights unable to do much by way of breathing. Fortunately, I was able to, um, bask in the showbiz-itude of the Planet Hollywood decor. In this case, my room had several framed photos and pieces of memorabilia to celebrate the wonderfulness of movies and TV.
There was a photo from Batman Begins of Christian Bale carrying Katie Holmes, one of Sylvester Stallone and Sharon Stone looking worried in The Specialist (I’d be worried if James Woods was after me), one of Harrison Ford walking by a wall of servers, which I guess was from Firewall, that movie where he tries to convince a major corporation to move over to Linux.
And then there was a frame that held a piece of a Wheel of Fortune, and an issue of TV Guide signed by Vanna White. Because that’s Planet Hollywood.
Anyway: speaking of risk, I didn’t lose a bunch of money while there. I gave myself a severe set of restrictions on slots-playing, didn’t sit down at card table because it’s no fun to do without friends around, and had my faith in Peyton Manning (and six points) rewarded on a $50 bet. Despite having put so much work into an NBA season preview, I didn’t lay a single basketball bet.
On the way out of Caesars Palace to the airport, I remembered that I had a $10 betting slip in my wallet. I haven’t been in a casino in years, and didn’t know that they issue your cash-out with bar-coded slips that you can cash in at an ATM or use to bet more. Even if you only have 25 cents to cash out, you’ll get a slip (I tried it). Anyway, I put that in a dollar-slot, figured I’d hit 4 spins and leave. With $4 left, I hit for $25, and decided, “Well, that’s cabfare back to the airport,” cashed out, and hit the road.
As it turned out, my biggest gamble on the trip was at the airport. I got in around 11:25am for my 2:20 pm flight, and started my e-check-in. I figured I’d find a lounge and do some reading/writing, but the check-in screen told me that there was an earlier flight I could switch to: the 12:15. But it wouldn’t tell me what seat I would get.
Now, as a frequent-enough traveler, I have “Elite” status on Continental, which usually gets me a seat in the first row or two of coach. I figured that wouldn’t be the case with this earlier flight, especially since it looked like that flight would be boarding in 5 minutes. I decided, “I don’t care where I’m sitting; if I can get in at 8:15 instead of 10:30, I’ll be happier.” I confirmed the flight-switch.
It told me I’d be in row 40, seat F, and that boarding would begin in 5 minutes. At this point, I still had to go through security and then board the monorail that would get me to the right terminal. I made like O.J. (okay, “like the O.J. in the Hertz commercials”). I got through security quickly enough and, just before the monorail, I saw the departures screen and noticed that my flight was delayed till 12:50.
40F didn’t turn out so bad. There weren’t many people at the rear of the plane, and the 757-300 configuration had the restrooms up around rows 31-32, so I didn’t have a long line of impatient people standing by my seat.
So I Xanax-ed into relaxation, ready to leave behind Las Vegas, its commonplace spectacles and its idiotic conference venues. Aloft, I looked out the window to see the Valley of Fire. A series of astonishing views spread out below us: lakes, rivers, canyons, buttes. The gridlines of development were missing from this country, I thought.
And over the PA, a stewardess said, “In order to better enjoy your in-flight entertainment, please lower your window shades. Our movie this afternoon will be Hairspray, starring John Travolta.”
I think he would’ve approved of my decision to leave the shades up.
(Now go to the slideshow, darnit!)
