Back From Vegas

Darin went to Vegas as part of a celebration with General Magic's team; although he's no longer an employee, he's still important to them and they wanted him along. Originally I wasn't going to go--since I'd been writing like a maniac, I thought I would relish having the time alone to write. But since I've had a rough week of it--the Toblerone, while the worst of it, was not the only of it, I'm afraid; how I managed to have the week I did and still lose a pound I have no idea--and I didn't want to be alone. I'm doing better than I was, but I still feel scared and vulnerable. Hence: I want to be where Darin is.

So yesterday we flew to Vegas in the morning and met up with other General Magic people on the airport shuttle. We checked into the Treasure Island hotel. By the time we got there, I was ravenous for a shake--I haven't mastered being able to travel and eat on this diet yet--and then a large group of us headed over to the Hilton for the Star Trek Experience.

Boy, howdy...you can get a pretty fair hike walking up and down the Strip. By the time we reached the Hilton, I turned to Darin and said, "Well, I don't have to make it to the hotel fitness center today for my workout." My feet were swollen and I got a blister on my heel. Time for new walking shoes, I guess.

The Star Trek Experience is a huge new attraction in an area where a huge new attraction is a reason to build an entire new hotel-casino (each one of which covers acres)--the hotels really need to keep up in order to compete. The Experience is a Star Trek museum--costumes! phasers! cast photos! and an entire timeline of the space program, from Goddard through Voyager getting Lost In Space!--and a ride. They have produced a very elaborate scenario involving real actors and a filmed portion involving Next Generation actors, and there was one part of the scenario that took everyone by surprise--if you go to the Experience, tell me how they do that first, major illusion (I was first in line and had my nose near the door and have no idea). Eventually you sit in a "shuttle" (one of the ones Voyager keeps losing, no doubt) and have a "Star Tours" type rollercoaster-ride. Pretty cool. By the way, when they say don't do this ride if you have neck or back injuries, they're not kidding; my head wobbled around so much I had a headache when it was done.

Darin, Greg, and I went to the Hilton Snack Bar where they snacked and I coveted--I was amazed at how expensive the snacks were. I've had this image that food and drink are really cheap in Vegas as a way of keeping you put in the casino, but it just ain't so. $1.25 for a small cup of Diet Pepsi. Sigh.

Everything else I've ever heard about the casinos is true. Wall-to-wall slot machines. Wall-to-wall blackjack and craps tables where there aren't slot machines. And people everywhere feeding money into these things--that was the scary part: where do all these people come from? All of the casinos are designed so that you can't tell whether it's day or night, and they're all designed in such a way that it's really, really hard to find a goddamn door out of the place. They don't want you to leave. Ever. Fires and other disasters are going to be serious nightmares, I tell you.

Darin and the Magic people went to dinner--Darin said I could go, but right now sitting with people while they eat huge, scrumptious meals and I sip water is more exacting than it was when I was happily and faithfully on the diet--and then I joined them for Cirque de Soleil's Mystere.

CdS's theatre is in the Treasure Island, which is probably why that hotel was picked. Mystere was a good show, but not a great one: a couple of good scenes but overall not much substance. One of the acts was messed up twice, and people who had seen CdS before compared this show unfavorably to previous shows. (The only time I'd seen CdS was about 10 years ago, at an Apple company party. I remember being underwhelmed by them then, too.)

Today Darin and I met up with Justin and headed down the Strip looking for a place for breakfast. We walked past Caesar's Palace and the MGM Grand and about 15 new hotels being built--Las Vegas is basically one giant construction crane right now; I overheard someone saying today that 40,000 new hotel rooms are under construction at this minute--and ended up at New York New York, the New York (natch) themed hotel-casino. We settled on the Motown Cafe for breakfast, and Darin and Justin seemed satisfied if not excited about what they got.

Afterwards we went on the NYNY Rollercoaster and I gotta say: it's a good one! (It oughta be, for $5!) Pretty long ride, lots of jolts.

I took a taxi back to the hotel (my feet were killing me), I packed up the room, and I made as if to check out. I ran into Greg and I was on the verge of tears--I had all of our stuff, I had to check out, I had to find some way to get Darin's airline ticket to him, and I had to get on the shuttle to the airport...all in about 5 minutes. Greg walked me over to the check-out counters (these places are like McDonald's--they have 50 gazillion counters, so there was no wait), he took Darin's book and airline ticket from me, and then he walked me out to the airport shuttle. I did not cry all over him. I think he was grateful for that. He asked where Darin was; I said he and Justin were going by Caesar's Palace, and Greg said he'd look for them there. (Mr. Needle, say hello to Mr. Haystack.)

I went to the airport, checked in, flew home, picked up the car, drove home, made a shake, got my mail, got back in the car, went to the airport, and got Darin, who had in fact found Greg at the Treasure Island, not Caesar's Palace, and so had gotten his book and ticket. The two of them went to lunch at Emeril's New Orleans Fish Market, Emeril Lagasse's Vegas restaurant, and pronounced it one of the best meals they've ever had. Greg said the entire trip to Vegas was worth the banana cream pie. I am incredibly envious of this meal (and I am writing "Emeril's banana cream pie" on my list of things to pig out on; see below).

(Isn't Emeril Lagasse just the cutest thing in the universe? I want to go to New Orleans just to go to his restaurant(s). And if Darin and I are going to New York, I'm getting tickets to Emeril Live, dammit!)

I had a long, relaxing soak in the tub tonight. I feel much better now, not quite so crazed, even though I missed thesis class today. Linda filled me in one what happened, and frankly I'm just as glad I missed it--Len ripped her so bad that she's not showing him anything else until she hands in her thesis script on April 17, which guarantees that he won't even be her advocate in the thesis committee meeting, and he evidently loved other classmates' material that I thought was okay but needed work, so who knows.

The very best thing that's happened is that on the machine when I came home was a message from the teacher of the rewrite class saying how much he loves the pages I gave him this week, that they're the best thing since sliced bread. Well, okay, not that good, but pretty damn good. (And certainly a different reaction than he had to my classmates' work.) Then later tonight he called again, just to say it to me personally. I love that. Okay, it's a little above and beyond the call of duty on his part, but sometimes a little too much enthusiasm is a welcome thing.

When we came back from the Star Trek Experience, we were both tired and so decided to take naps. Darin hadn't slept at all the night before--really, really horrible insomnia, which he doesn't usually get--so he settled down quickly. Me, I tried to nap, but something I'd wanted to do kept interfering. So I got up and did it.

In one of the journalling books I recommend, Journal to the Self by Kathleen Adams, I came across the technique of "lists of 100." When something's on your mind, make a list of 100 things associated with that idea. You usually find...okay, I've usually found that I peter out around 35, and when I push myself I get to 45. (The idea of continuing to go until you get to 100 is to really drain yourself, to get down there to the nitty-gritty deep down inside of you. As I've said before, I'm glib and superficial and I don't get there.)

I decided to make a list of 100 Things I Want To Pig Out On At Some Point In My Life. My basic criteria was, name something that I would order from room service right now if a)room service served anything and b)they served endless quantities of it. What have I ever imagined eating until getting sick to my stomach?

When I got to #125, I decided that perhaps I'm just a wee bit food obsessed. Or, despite my guiding principle over the past several years that I can have anything I damn well please when I want it, I still have lots and lots of foods that I automatically place on my "No no no, can't have that" list. I was pretty amazed at what wasn't on that list, although a few more things occurred to me after I finished (just now, "barbecue ribs like they make at County Line" came to mind).

I've been doing a lot more writing in my paper journal recently. Mostly I'm trying to work through why I've entered this period of fear and crushing self-doubt--and what can I do to get out of it. As you've probably gleaned, I'm not an exhibitionist. So entries might be a little sparse around here for a bit.