Binh and the Latin Masters

McCarran airport has free wifi. That’s how it should be. Why should I pay $7 at Burbank to check my email?

Anyway, I’ve got time to comment on my cab ride into Vega$, which I forgot to do earlier. Why I looked at the cabbie’s ID, I don’t know. But now his name is etched in my mind: Binh Nguyen. Obviously Vietnamese, but with his round wire-rimmed glasses, he looked like a Japanese war criminal.

The ride began innocently enough and I talked about the weather. I think I asked about all the new condos going up in Vega$. That’s when it started. He started telling me that Bush is responsible for high home prices. I don’t remember if he heard me when I said that I liked Bush and that I thought it was actually liberals like those in San Francisco who limit the amount of new buildings that can be constructed, thus raising the housing rates. In any case, he was off blathering about Bush and his father, whom he also hated. He also tossed in Ronald Reagan, but I couldn’t tell what it was about Reagan that ticked him off.

He then proceded to tell me that the most important thing is that we all be kind to one another. I agreed with him on that, but the ride was beginning to get uncomfortable. What is one supposed to do in the ten minutes one is in a cab and one’s driver brings up a point of view contrary to one’s own? Grin and bear it, I suppose.

His sermon on religion included constant references to a triumverate of Jesus, Buddha and what at first sounded like the “Latin Masters.” Visions of Ricky Martin and Shakira danced in my head until I figured out that Binh was actually referring to “EnLIGHTend Masters.” I still don’t know who or what these are. Luckily my ride ended soon enough and I was glad to bid farewell to old Binh.

Saved by modern technology

After checking into the Stardust yesterday I got a call from the printer who’s printing the brochure I just did for a client. One of the fonts I used is not showing up right on his PC (I of course use a Mac). Luckily I’ve got my cell phone and he was able to reach me in the elevator. Luckily, too, I brought my PowerBook and a backup of the Illustrator file. And, despite a $15 charge for wireless access, I was able to email him the outlined version of the font. You can’t send email out from your regular email client, but a quick trip to yahoo to sign up for a webmail account and I was in business. I am amazed that I can be 400 miles from home and send things through the air to take care of business. It’s FREEDOM!

Stardust-Las Vegas

What am I doing here in the lobby of the Stardust on a Tuesday afternoon?

The short answer is I came for a slot tournament. This is the first time I’ve ever done this. With the exception of two 20-something girls who were daughters of one of the entrants I was the youngest player by about 20 years. It seems like kind of geriatric thing to do, but I still had fun. $99 for three nights in the hotel and my entry fee. Not bad. $33/night.

But I also wanted to experience the Stardust before the wrecking ball hits it at the end of the year. I’m trying to hit all the remaining Rat Pack era hotels here before they’re gone. I’ve been to the Sands, The Desert Inn and Tropicana. I need to hit the Sahara and Riviera soon. I’m working my way through the map that Frank laid out on the pool table in “Oceans Eleven.”

The beautiful and sometimes wise Kanako Kusano tells me that I have little chance of winning the top prize in this tournament ($2500) but I *may* have a shot at the $50 they give to the first 100 finishers. I’m doing okay so far. I’ve killed time on my favorite game, the penny Men In Black. Got three wild symbols and it paid out $65. Not too bad for a 20 CENT BET! Dropped $30 at Circus Circus, but then went to the Riviera where I spotted the Dirty Harry game. Of course I had to play. For some reason this machine would NOT STOP winning. I doubled my $100, but lost about $50 before calling it quits.

Even though this town is replete with empty glitter, I still love the history of it. To paraphrase Goldfinger, I love its color, its excess, its divine tackiness. Well, that’s not totally true. I wish this were still the town we see in Oceans Eleven, where men still dressed for dinner. I try to ignore the t-shirts, beer bellies and yards of blended drinks that passersby carry with them as they walk along the strip.

But even my foray into Circus Circus was nostalgic. The tacky clowns and 60s/70s style typography used on the entrance signs hark back to an era that’s fast disappearing. Plus I like to drop in on those places visited by Bond in Diamonds are Forever. I don’t think Bond would have gone to Circus Circus if he weren’t forced to, however. 25 more minutes and I’ll see how I did in the tournament.

The guy next to me is now singing along to Roy Orbison and I can’t stand it. I like Roy Orbison fine, I just don’t like this guy. He’s drunk. Another one of the myriad visitors who all seem to dress alike. He just burped. Thank God I’m looking at the computer screen so he won’t talk to me. Ah, Vegas. Or, as my brother likes to spell it, Vega$.

When do I get to become an expert?

Am I an expert at anything? When I think about all the things I know I don’t know if I can say I’m an expert at anything. I keep coming to these conferences (like Web Design World) to learn, but will I ever be one of the people on the dais? It’s a frustrating feeling. When I think about it it makes me feel constantly unworthy or false. I ask myself, ‘why should a client hire me when I don’t know as much as this other person?’ Whether it’s here at Web Design World or MacExpo, I am surrounded by “experts.”

How Jen is Coping

That’s the headline of the magazine that screams at me in the gift shop at the aiport, at the supermarket checkout and anywhere else I frequent that sells magazines. I don’t care. Why do you? What did you expect? HOllywood marriage is almost an oxymoron. Wouldn’t it be great if nobody cared? Maybe it keeps the magazines and their staffs busy and paid, but do we really have to be so obsessed with celebrity?

The implication is that these people are better than you or me. Their lives are more interesting. Certainly they have more money. We have to remember that entertainers are just that. They are not experts in other fields (with the odd exception) based solely on their celebrity status.

I don’t understand the attraction. I find almost any other woman more attractive than Angelina Jolie. I find Donald Trump’s hair absurd. I find Martha Stewart as entertaining as drying paint. What is it that keeps these people not just in the public eye but attractive in some way to the public?

Is it a manipulativeness on the part of these celebrities or their publicity people? Or is it a failure of the public itself to be more discriminating? I think it’s the latter. Unfortunately I think this is how things will always be.