Vegas

I am in Vegas for work this whole week. This is my first time in Vegas and it's pretty weird. I have played some slots and video poker with no success. Last night M and I ate at a Star Trek Restaurant called Quark's. Here is M with an alien who stopped by our table:



Guess what M and I did after our Star Trek dinner? We saw Barry Manilow. I am neither a fan nor a non-fan, but M is a huge fan and strong-armed me into it. It was fun, although he didn't sing my favorite song of his, from the film "Foul Play" starring Chevy Chase, Goldie Hawn, and Dudley Moore, more commonly known as Arthur.



The weirdest experience I had here was with a neo-nazi skinhead on the bus. M and I had to do an errand in an obscure location, and then there were no cabs so we took a bus to the Palms. It was very crowded so we stood in the aisle. After a few stops, this shaved head guy got on. The top of his shirt was unbuttoned and right there at the top of his sternum was a big swastika. I felt horrified and scared and sick and I was hoping M wouldn't see it - I don't know I wanted to protect her somehow even though she's no wimp or anything, she's from New York and she's seen it all. I had never seen a real skinhead before. For some reason, he looked at me and said, are you guys getting off at the next stop? And I said no. And because apparently, even when I'm talking to a freaking NAZI SKINHEAD I feel the need to have manners and I felt that my "no" was perhaps a bit abrupt, so I said, we're looking for Flamingo. And he said, that's a couple stops up. I felt horrified by being polite to this man, as if I were condoning his tattoos or something, but it was just so automatic. I felt like a true civil rights minded person would have I don't know, been rude or somehow shown disapproval? I was scared though, and confused, and really really sad.

Some seats opened up, so M and I sat down. She saw the tattoo then, and she overhead him talking to his skinhead friend about their PO's as in, parole officers. We rode for several blocks, and then at one point, the skinhead said to us, this is the stop for Flamingo. And again, even though I felt truly sickened by him, and felt so threatened and mortified, I thanked him. Of course then I made sure he didn't get off the bus to follow us and kill us.

Who knew - a helpful skinhead? It was really surreal. M thought maybe he became a skinhead in prison so he'd be protected. I heard him saying that his kid's birthday was on Saturday. I felt really sad to think about a kid with a nazi dad who will probably teach the kid to hate everyone. Or maybe the man will reform.