PROLOGUE

I am in my 30’s and I have never been to Vegas before last week. For that I am ashamed. I was the only one out of my inner circle of friends and girlfriends that hadn’t experienced Vegas and was told that July 4th weekend was the best weekend to go out there. Since I am single, I have some money in my pocket, a fulltime job as well as residual income from previous acting jobs, and no real responsibilities to anyone other than to myself I figured, fuck it, now’s as good a time as any to experience Vegas. The best way to experience Vegas, I knew, would have to be with my friend Howard. Why? Because he is sort of a Vegas expert. How do I know he's an expert? Well he has been going out there on average 3 - 4 times a year for the past 8 or 9 years. I think by all the United States Judicial Courts’ (are there any other kind?) standards, that number qualifies him as an expert on Las Vegas. By expert I mean he knows all the hotspots, the people who work AT the hotspots, where to stay, how to spend, how to party and how to live out there and make the most out of your condensed time pushing your body to the absolute limit without actually dying or slipping into a coma.

I must say I was a bit nervous going out there for 5 nights and 6 days with a guy I haven’t hung out with often. I didn’t know what to expect. He told me a week in advanced to start training for our trip. Training? Yeah. Training. Eating healthy, exercising, trying to increase my alcohol tolerance and at the same time getting plenty of rest. All the things that Vegas will take away. So as you can pretty much guess, it was a long intense weekend…of partying. All those who know me well know that I am not really a party guy. Friendly. No doubt. Can hold a conversation with just about anyone, anywhere, at anytime. And that's what people love about me. But a partier? Nah. Not me. So, yes I got damn sick out there. But not as much from the amount of alcohol consumed as it was from the intense heat, lack of sleep, food, and water to keep my body nourished and hydrated.

HOWARD

In order for you to understand why my weekend was so intense you have to know the dude I went out there with.

Howard. Can party. He seems to know everyone on the scene and everyone seems to know him. He talks low which forces people to lean into him. There is some power in that. Unlike me who has such a loud fucking voice, people tend to back away when I speak. But I speak with passion and excitement and I am very animated, while Howard speaks with a calm smooth intensity. Very focused energy. Kind of like the energy in the atom particle - moments before the Big Bang happened putting the Universe in motion.

I met him while I was temping for Marsh & McLennan. After 9/ll the survivors that were working down there (me among them) were relocated to midtown. The company took on a slew of consultants to work on the Disaster/Recovery effort in the IT department. Howard was one of those consultants. So I knew him since early post 9/ll.

We are almost polar opposites on the surface. He parties like a great big cock and I party like a nicely groomed vagina. Everyone that we met out there (which was quite a lot) seemed to ask the same question. "How is it that you two are friends?"

He used to be a bouncer. I used to get bounced. He loves the club scene. I hate it. He loves to party hard. I like to party soft (note the 'vagina' reference above). He loves house/trans/rave/Hip-hop music. I hate it. Well, I do like some hip-hop. He loves to dance. I kinda like to dance to good hip-hop music but Howard is quite good at it. He can bust a move and I have heard many people tell him so while I was out there.

He also has a liberating "I don't give a fuck" attitude on the surface. Me? I give a fuck. In fact, I give way too much of a fuck. But that is starting to change a bit. The amount of fuck I give is starting to decrease a bit.
He sees no woman or I should say NO ONE as above him even though they may be taller. Which is more often than not the case. Howard is not the tallest guy and doesn't have the most hair (shaved head) but damn does he have game. Good game. And women love him. I love him. But by the same token he has very little patience and tolerance for people and as I said before I probably have way too much. Don't worry though. I am starting lose my patience with all of you as well.

He can be a very scary guy too. If he wants to be. A Pitbull. The slightest thing can set him off. He is short and stocky and has that slightly off-center psycho element about him that if you are going to get into something physical - just hope you have 911 on speed dial. That was the first number I stored on my cell when I landed in Las Vegas. 911.

But also know that Howard is the nicest, most generous guy and loyal friend. He is an intense planner and seems to live life with a day to day itinerary. And he takes pride in showing people, mainly his friends a really good time. It’s actually a huge priority for him to make sure whoever he’s with is having the time of their lives. As awesome as that is, it also creates unneeded pressure. But better that then the opposite, someone who could give a rat’s ass.
The guy also has your back in any situation. Someone I know I can count on and I hope he knows that he can count on me as well. I don't think there is any limit to his loyalty but I suspect that if you cross him, a 2nd chance is as hard to get with him as it is to get season tickets to the New York Giants. Like at the end of Titanic I found out the point in his life where the proverbial ship snapped. Aside from all the joking around, the laughter and drunken stupidity we shared with people out there (mainly women), we also had a chance to bond with some serious heart to heart talks about our lives. Now before this blog starts to sound like Brokeback Mountain II, as I am suspecting some of you fuckheads are thinking, I'll just end this section by saying we all have our own personal tragedies. Some worse than others. And these tragedies and heartbreaks that we experience tend to mold and shape our personalities and how we tend interact with other people – whether they be strangers, lovers, friends, or family. For better or for worse.

Until this weekend, we were little more than acquaintances but little less than really close friends. We just had different lives. Until late last year, I have been in a serious relationship for as long as I've known him. I was very domesticated. Doing all the things that couples do and he was doing all the things that a single man should do. So I have been out of the "scene" for quite sometime. When I landed in Vegas I was thrown into the wild. Imagine taking a domesticated cat to the jungles of Africa and releasing him there. My survival skills were a little rusty but by the end of the trip I was a wild animal. Or maybe still a cute domesticated cat that simply made friends with the other wild animals out there. I don't know.

We did hit a few turbulent moments during our stay, (his digital camera got ripped off; I got real sick and a few others not worth mentioning).

So. Come to Vegas with us.

VEGAS

Thursday, June 29th. I Worked a full 8 hours and went straight to the airport. I was flying JetBlue out of JFK and Howard was flying continental out of Newark. Our flights were leaving within a half hour of each other. Both our flights were delayed by 2 hours. So we were texting each other from our respective runways at our respective airports within our respective aircrafts. "Have a safe flight, see you in VEGAS!!"

I am not a good flier. So the funny text messages from my lovely friend, Liz really helped to keep me from becoming agitated. Well that and the Xanex. Well 2…and ½ Xanex. So I was good. So good, I felt I could have flown the fucking aircraft myself. But that was not part of my JetBlue package. When the rep asked where I’d like to sit I requested the cockpit but the fuckers gave me seat 14A.

Once we took off the flight was smooth. I had peanuts, soda, and “Blue” chips. I pissed and slept throughout the flight but never simultaneously. [clap, clap]

We meet up at Las Vegas Airport a little before midnight Thursday. We head to the Hard Rock Hotel & Casino (our hotel) and quickly unpacked, shit, showered, shaved, changed and we were out the door by 1am. We went to a place called JET and met up with one of Howard’s connections - the floor manager, Leo. We had fun. We drank, danced, talked to some girls, danced with them, and drank with them. We left at 4am to go to another place. When we walked out, the sun was up. And everyone’s day was just starting while our night was just ending.
It is officially well into early Friday morning and…shit - forgot to sleep. And we forgot to eat. Damn.

We went back to the hotel. Took a nap for a about a couple of hours but had to be at the hotel's pool by 11am to claim our cabana. We did. So we drank some more that day. Ordered some finger food. Admired the pool. Swam in the pool. Met some more people. Drank some more. Until around 6pm. We go back to the room. Napped for 1 hour. Had to be at Nobu by 7:30pm. This was to be our "Last Supper" until Monday night/early Tuesday morning. It would have been great to have a Da Vinci like artist to paint us at our last supper. But there were no renaissance painters on hand. Just a bunch of cute touristy girls with digital cameras. I would be the innocent Jesus figure and Howard - sorry bro - would most represent Brutas in this “Last Supper” scenario! He had a mission to introduce my body, my mind, and my spirit to Vegas life. His life. A place where most people who know me would say I didn’t belong.

After dinner we went to Tao (a night club - Duh) where we had our own table/VIP service at the club. Lots of loud music, lots of girls dressed to the nines (don't know what the fuck that statement means, "dressed to the nines?" Why not “to the tens” - it's a higher number. Wouldn’t that make girls dressed to the tens hotter than the girls dressed to the nines?? - who knows. Who cares). They were dressed in a very UNdressed sort of way. Hot. But sort of stripper hot. Not necessarily classy hot. Bummer. We met lots of people that night who helped us finish our 2 bottles of Grey Goose Vodka and Captain Morgan's spiced rum.

We stumble back to the room at around 5ish on Saturday morning. I think. Slept for a couple of hours and yet again had to be at the pool by 11am to reserve our Saturday cabana. So we are at the pool. My blood has been replaced by alcohol, and CO2. Our gorgeous cabana girl started our morning off with a shot of I don't know what. But it was Pinkish Red and it came out of a plastic syringe.

Forgot to eat again. Shit.

It is now 11am Saturday morning and in the past 48 hours I have had but one full meal and a total of 6 hours sleep. My blood alcohol content is probably off the charts and it’s not even noon.

MOM - I can feel you getting woozy reading this. Take a couple of deep breaths and pop a Paxil or two before you read the rest.
DAD - I can feel your pride.

O.K. So now I am officially sick. It is Saturday morning or early afternoon. I am already drunk, naucious, weak, shaky and very dizzy. I am a bit scared. I forgot that I had Crohn’s Disease that I had to nurture. I neglected my poor disease. But then again, fuck my Crohn’s! What did it ever do for me except cause me physical pain and psychological grief. Although it did get me out of work early a few times.

Back to my point – right now at this time I feel violently ill and I fucking hate Vegas. I want out. I want to get back to New York City so I could relax. I want to go home. Please! Somebody rub my belly. No more. Toddy wants no more. No more girls in bikinis. No more alcohol. No more house music. No more $20.00 ATM fees... I am fried. I am done. I am so burnt.

But I had to suck it up. I am a man. And by God Howard was going to make sure of that if it was the last thing he does before he slips into his own dehydrated / low blood sugar / sleep deprived / alcohol induced coma.

What was nice about the cabana (aside from the flat screen TV, couches, lock safe, and constant wait service - was that it had a nice cool mist coming out of these ducts hanging over the roof. You could actually lay outside and you wouldn't get fried from the heat...as much. Laying out with this beautiful mist blowing on you. It was nice. I mostly stayed by the cabana that day. Every once in a while throughout the day, I would down a bottle of water and dive into the pool and try to “accidentally” grab some boobage while I was at it. This was a measly attempt to hydrate my body. But I mostly stayed back.

Oh, and I really didn’t grab boobage. Some of the boobage did happen to be in my way a few times and I tried to dodge them. But it required too much effort to dodge such big fake boobies. So when I saw big fake boobies coming in my direction I’d just position myself in a suicide stance and allowed the boobies to smash into my face and body.

Going off on a tangent here that’s partially made up. Back to my story.

I stayed back and napped while Howard roamed the wild. Every hour or so he'd come back with a set of girls. I swear to God. It was like a poppa bear going out to hunt and bring back food for the baby cub(s) that was sleeping in the den. I bet you can guess who the cub was in this scenario. Just to be clear, I was not hooking up with these girls. Just entertaining them.

Now here comes my favorite story. He brings back 3 women to the cabana. ALL nurses from New Orleans. They were real sweet and felt great compassion for my situation. So much so that they offered to bring me back to their room to hook me up to an IV for a 1/2 hour to replenish my fluids. They swore it worked much better and much faster than just drinking water or Gatorade.

O.K. Can you think about that for a moment? I mean these are nurses! Registered nurses! Women in healthcare. Women who work in hospitals. Women who take care of the sick. Nurses. Who party so hard when they come to Vegas that they actually bring their own fucking IV's with them. How hardcore is that!? All I have to say to that is: “Vegas, baby. Vegas.”

So as the day wore on, I started to feel a little better but still couldn't hold in any food or drink. I was very shaky and at this point I just wanted to stay in for the night. I was sick, exhausted, cranky and I suddenly felt I was not having a good time. I wanted to go home. But I couldn't.

So after a 1 hour nap in the early evening we had to get ready. Again. To go out. Again. To a club. Again. To drink. Again. I wasn’t ready but we did go out. We went to a place called Triste. It was a cool looking club with a massive rock waterfall inside the club. It was a sort of indoor outdoor feel kind of like the city of Rivendell from Lord of the Rings where the elves lived.

The problem was they overbooked the reservations and we lost our table. So did a lot of other people. This caused a commotion on line. The bouncers were assholes, the promotors were assholes, the chicks were bitches, the men were dicks. What more can I say. There was not much love in this club. We got in and it was time to start putting a little alcohol in my body. But this time I always had a bottle of water with me so I would keep myself hydrated as I drank. Smart. Right? On the bright side we saved lots of money and I really was trying not to drink much this night. All in all, despite not having a table we still met a couple of people that were nice, and we did have a pretty good time. At this point I’d say the way I felt was now probably reaching the 60% mark.

We get back to the hotel at around 4:30 or 5am and we decided to gamble a bit. Black Jack we played. I eventually cashed out my whopping $60.00 earnings while Howard stayed. I went to bed because I knew we had Rehab the next day.

Forgot to eat again. Damn it.

Rehab is an absolutely insane pool party thrown at the Hard Rock every Sunday. You know what? Insane is too passive of a word.

It starts at 10am and goes on until 7:30pm. Not sure what time Howard came back to the room, maybe 8:30, 9am? Soon after he went to bed the phone rang and it was his wake up call. All I heard was him mumbling shit like, "Oooh man, oh fuck. Ooooo shit. Fuck. Ugh. Ugh. Oh fuck" He had to drag his exhausted, drunken, beaten down body down to the pool and try to hustle for a cabana for the hottest pool party in the country. It would be a near impossible feat.

Howard. Props to you man. You did it.

He did it. We had a cabana on the best day to actually have one. So he comes back to the room in triumph and euphoria and crashes for about another hour. We have to now leave the room and get to the cabana by noon or someone else may flash a wad of 100's to the pool staff and we could just as easily loose it. So we get there and we set up.

Oh fuck. Forgot to eat again.

REHAB

This time a girl that Howard met in Vegas last year, whom he has kept "relations" with decided (along with her friends) to go in on the cabana with us. They were fun girls. And funny. And naturally they all thought I was funny and I was still not feeling 100%. More like 75% now. Where are those nurses?? Where are those IV's?
Rehab, I must say is probably the craziest pool party EVER. EVER. I was surrounded by INSANELY gorgeous girls (a lot of them were strippers by trade and were just getting off work to show off their new bathing suits. Or birthday suits [?]. I don't know. It was sensory overload for me. Imagine a computer with a 1 gig hardrive – then downloading 5 gigs of porn onto it LOADED with viruses and unlimited pop-up ads. Yup. That was me. Almost couldn’t deal. Wanted to crash but I stayed headstrong.

There were also lots of normal, smarter, and classier looking women. Lots of the men were chizzled. Tan. Obnoxious. Showing off their bling. A little dumb sounding but so were the girls. Maybe that's the point. Every once in a while - you need to just dumb yourself down a bit. Since I hate rave/house music so much it was such an awesome refresher when they'd play a recognizable song, from a recognizable band that actually played recognizable instruments and sang recognizable notes and melodies. And when that happened I perked up even more. 80%.

My lovely friend from college, Liz, bought me a Yankee hat before I went out there. I remember walking into the casino from the pool and the Yankee game was on. And just as I walked pass the bar toward the bathroom, A-Rod hits a grand slam homerun. A group of people ran up to me after seeing my hat and hugged me. The guys were giving me pounds (when you clash fists). Screaming, “New York’s in the house!” And, “Yankees!” Girls tugging on my hat. I just screamed back at all of them and then headed toward the bathroom to drain my lizard.

So hop, skip, and jump to later that night.

Howard, a lady friend of his, and her friends hung in our room for a while and we ordered room service and rested before our Sunday night outing. A cool place called Light. This was one of my favorite nights here. We met up with Howard’s friend, Leo again and we were ushered to the front of the line, into the club, to a back corner VIP table. The place was really cool. Great vibe. We were treated very well. Even in the restrooms. Seriously. I went into the restroom and the moment I entered, there was an army of men cleaning the restroom in unison like sailors on the deck of a ship in a 1950’s musical film. While I was washing my hands, One guy was pumping soap while another was brushing the lint off my shirt with a lint brush!!! Goddamn! What’s next? A blowjob!?

We met tons of people there. Again, I hung back at the table and drank while Howard would go out and bring back people to the table in constant rotation. We consistently met the nicest people that night. I did make a little fau paux. He brought back three beautiful Asian looking women. I was talking to one. Nice conversation about the town. Then I asked her nationality. She says, “Guess!”

This should be fun, I thought. So I immediately said, “Japanese.” She says, “No.” Then I realized she was kind of tan so I guessed, “Korean?” She again says, “No.” “Vietnamese…[no]…Taiwanese [no]…PHILlIPINO!...[NO]…Chinese??” Exasperated she blurted out, “I’m Mexican!” [awkward silence]

Then I shouted, “OK – SHOW’S OVER! YOU’VE BEEN A LOVELY AUDIENCE! THANK YOU VERY MUCH AND GOODNIGHT! I’M OUTTA HERE. PEACE!!”

I got up and left. I took myself out of the game. No recovering from that one.

I sat by myself at the table to recover from my idiocy. Then Howard says, “Ok. You’re up Todd. It is now time to apply what you have learned. Go now, and don’t come back without some lovely women to share our booze with.” Yes it was juvenile. Very much so. But you know what? Fuck it! I am a nice single guy and I am going to enjoy this. So, I left the table and roamed the club. I was a baby cub on the hunt for the first time. Fifteen minutes later, I met Laura, Lauren and Erica. Three lovely women who happened to be from New York City. One who lives directly around the corner from me. Go figure.

As a side note, I think I met more women from New York City, in Las Vegas these 5 nights than I did living IN New York City the past few years. Is that a good thing? I don’t know. Just interesting. Do people become more approachable outside the city? Again, I don’t know.

I don’t remember what time we got back but I made sure I set aside Monday to tour Las Vegas. That was fun. A long day of cruising all the best hotels – The Belagio, The Mirage, Mandalay Bay, New York, New York and my favorite – The Venetian. What a breathtaking hotel. We had to be at the airport by 8am Tuesday morning. I wasn’t really up for going out that night. But fuck…we did.

We went back to JET. Everyone in Las Vegas seemed to be at this club. Paris Hilton was there. I was hoping to bump into her. Literally. I would have whispered in her ear, “Stick with me kid. I’ll make you rich.” Never happened. She was on her cell phone and her Sidekick. Simultaneously. Weird. I think she was texting her own sidekick from her cell phone and then responding.

Anyway. I had fun. Talked to some very obnoxious women. But a few nice ones as well. Met a couple more from New York City. Met some from London who seemed to really adore me. Right off the bat they got my humor. They were intelligent, cute…accents and best of all – drunk. They couldn’t stop saying how women in London would kill for a guy like me. Did I mention they were drunk? They probably would have told “Son of Sam” Berkowitz the same thing for all I know. Ah - but they were sweet.

I also saw a massive, massive, MASSIVE black dude at the bar. Probably 6’5” and maybe 290+ pounds. He was drinking a Corona. I had to mention to him that the Corona in his hand reminded me of one of those mini airplane bottles of liquor in my hand. He laughed. I laughed. Awkward silence. Then I challenged him to a fight. He laughed again. Awkward silence. I said, “I bet I have a bigger dick!” He cracked up and said, “Little white dude’s on a roll. Give me a pound, dawg.” We clashed fists and we went on our merry way.

We go into another room and I noticed a one-legged girl on crutches dancing with her boyfriend. GODBLESS THEM!! Then - two fucked up, scantily clad girls with major attitude are pushing through the crowd and without even being aware of anything around them but themselves they literally pushed the girl with one-leg and knocked her off balance. Without a moments thought, Howard grabbed one of the girls by the arm and screamed at her, “YOU JUST KNOCKED OVER A GIRL WITH CRUTCHES, YOU BITCH! PAY ATTENTION!!” They had such a look of confusion and even fear. Almost priceless. But without turning around to apologize they just pushed forward to get out of the room and out of the situation. Way to go Howard! The girl’s boyfriend was very appreciative.

So we finally get back to the hotel around 5am. We go to the hotel diner for meal number 2 of the weekend. It is 5am and we ordered buffalo wings to start, and bacon and eggs for our entree. Vegas. My appetite was back. I was feeling good. Now 95%.

Howard and I reflected on our stay in town. I really did have a great time. However, if I never step into a club again for the rest of my life, I may be o.k. Howard’s lady friend joined us not too long after we ordered.

We had to be at the airport in a few hours. I noticed a very VERY cute girl sitting by herself at the counter. So cute and so alone, I figured she had to be an escort. Some skeevy guy tried to pick her up and he failed. Miserably. Howard and his lady friend suggest I go talk to her while they went up to the room for a little boom boom. They suggested I do my incredible Scotch & Soda trick. So, I got up – walked to the counter and guess what. She spoke first. I’ll never forget her opening line... “What’s up?” I stared at her for a few seconds like a deer in headlights while I processed this question. Before I knew it we were in deep conversation. I glanced over at Howard and Lisa. They looked like proud parents. They paid the bill and went upstairs and I stayed and talked to Gina. A German Jew. Yes. Her name was Gina and she was a German Jew. Probably still is. And not only that. She’s moving to NYC to go to F.I.T. for fashion journalism. She looked like someone that would grace the cover of a fashion magazine rather than be a writer for one. But...I have to say, she was intelligent and focused, and did I mention very cute. I did do my Scotch and Soda trick by the way and she was floored and freaked out and very impressed. Aside from having been out all night and the fact that I had to be at the airport in an hour I would say I am feeling 100%! So after Gina gave me her number, email, and fax she whispered to me not to tell anyone but she’s 20...

CHECK PLEASE!!

Ah but she was sweet. It is now 7am, I say goodbye to the beautiful and very lovely young woman. I chuckled to myself all the way up to the room where Howard was finishing packing. I collected my luggage and we headed out. Having not slept in the past 24 hours Howard and I were stupid delirious. Cracking jokes from the hotel lobby all the way to his terminal at the airport. He was on an earlier flight than me. We gave a good handshake and a manly heterosexual hug and we parted ways. “Great time, bro! See you back in New York City!”

THE WRAP UP

So I am back in the greatest city in the world. New York City. I have no regrets about the weekend except for the fact that I didn’t pace myself the first few days. I have been eating like an absolute fiend. Non stop trying to gain all the weight and nutrients I lost out there. Thanks Howard for looking out for me and showing me an awesome time! But if I hear “Drop it Like it’s Hot” Yung Joc’s “It’s Goin’ Down” or “Dontcha Wish Your Girlfriend Was Hot Like Me” one more fucking time I swear to God I am going postal!!!

A ‘friend’ of mine once said to me “You’re not going to find much love in the club.” And she’s right. But that statement I think more applies to guys like me and even girls like her. Because I witnessed PLENTY of love in the clubs out there. But it was between people of a different “ilk” so to speak.

These women, I’ve noticed, all seem to have a fierce look in their eyes while waiting on line by the velvet ropes outside the club. One is more provocatively dressed than the next. All of them sizing each other up. Who has the better body or the most revealing outfits? Who is getting the most stares? Who will be the better dancer? Who’s got nicer shoes? Nicer tits? Who will gain the most attention inside the club? And most of all, who will produce the most boners by the end of the night.

The men on the other hand had much simpler looks their eyes – “Damn! I’d like to fuck her.” Or just simply, “Let’s get drunk, have a good time and hope for the best!” That’s it. Hey, what can I say? We’re simple creatures.

Women, especially the ones that frequent clubs - love, Love, LOVE attention

It’s also funny to hear “normal” women put down strippers and say how much they hate the fact that men go to strip clubs. But I’ll be damned if I didn’t see ONE single woman out there that did not fight to get up on those platforms at each of those clubs so they can “pole dance” the shit out of each song. Just like a stripper.

And I was also amazed at how many women love to play “lesbian” and dance provocatively - grinding into each other throughout an entire song. Seriously. More then ¾ of the women in every club I went to committed this downright fraudulent crime against the Penis. How dare they?!

I do get it though. They’re thinking, “Guys love lesbians, we love attention, so let’s play lesbian, and torture guys (and real lesbians).” And they get angry with us guys who gawk and stare!? Labeling us as “pigs” and “dogs”!?

FUCK YOU! That’s like me dressing up in a pink bunny suit wielding a chainsaw and then complaining that people are staring at me.

Before I went to Vegas I had been hearing that the women were sooo much nicer out there than here. More approachable. Less attitude and just plain friendly. Even the insanely gorgeous, modelly ones.

But the bottom line - wherever you go you will encounter assholes and bitches, gentlemen and sweethearts. You go to strike up a conversation with someone and 1of 3 things will happen. You’ll either catch major attitude - and the person won’t even indulge you for a second. NEXT. The second is - the person will be courteous, answer your questions with monosyllabic answers and you’ll see their eyes darting all over the place subtly hinting that they prefer not to talk to you – but - will not be openly mean. The third and best scenario is – once you get past the “What’s your name, where you from, and what do you do questions - you’ll have a decent, fun, and maybe even an alluring and intelligent conversation that will either lead somewhere like the bedroom, a future date, relationship or just a simple kiss on the cheek and a genuine “Nice meeting you” smile.

I am grateful for all the highs and even some of the lows I experienced out there. Because it means I really lived life for a short time without a care in the world. Every once in a while I think we all need to do that. It’s really not that bad to just let loose every once in a while and act like a total idiot. So long as you don’t harm anyone in the process. Hell, I didn’t even think about my acting career (or lack thereof) the whole time I was out there. Then the day before I was to come back I got a phone call from the head of Orion Entertainment to set up a meeting to discuss a future project he said he had in mind for me. Well that put me in an exceptionally good mood. Duh. I do feel that if you want something really really bad…sometimes…it’s good to just let it go for a short period time. Allow it to come to you. And guess what, it almost always does and it’s when you least expect it. How’s that for a cliché?

And finally, although I am glad that I really lived life to it’s fullest out there I do realize that that life style is just not for me. I can’t say enough how happy I am that I got a chance to experience it and experience it with an “expert.”

Thanks Howard for looking out for me and showing me such an awesome time!