Cocktails first, questions later

I'm sorry - was I just saying that I needed an airport detox? Well, I guess my detox requirements are akin to Lindsay Lohan's in Wonderland, because I am headed to Las Vegas this weekend!

My friend Mia is a huge sports fan and so had planned to go for the hoopla surrounding the All Star game. She asked me if I wanted to join her, and I thought of a million reasons why I shouldn't go: trying to save money, tired of traveling, I hate sports, etc. But then I thought about it and how I was just saying to myself that I need to get out more, do more stuff that I wouldn't normally do, live a little. In fact, I had just paid off all of my bills and credit cards Saturday morning, so, much as I would like to have some money in the bank, what's the point if I can't spend it every once in a while? I don't know if it's the Jewish guilt or my Protestant puritanism that keeps me from splurging, but I decided to suck it up and get over myself for once.

I've only been to Vegas once in my life, and it will be a hard trip to beat. I was 25 on a summer Saturday in August, alone in my apartment because my roommates were both away for the weekend. Everyone was away that weekend, it seemed, and I was having quite the pity party for myself, feeling alone and lonely in the Big Apple. I returned from rollerblading to a voice mail asking me to cover for an event happening Monday night in Las Vegas. The woman whose account it was threw out her back that day, and they needed someone with TV experience (me) to manage the camera crews that were set to cover the party.

Less than 24 hours later I was on a flight. It happened so quickly I wasn't even able to reach my parents to tell them. The party was being held at the Hard Rock, so I took a shuttle directly there and met up with Jason, the Fabulous Gay Guy in my office that was managing the talent and the event-planning aspects of the party. This being the summer of "Hit em up style", Blu Cantrell was our opening act, and I watched in awe as Jason troubleshooted for hours between our client and the record label.

When everything was mostly settled, we went downstairs to dinner at Nobu, as Jason was friends with the manager. I don't even eat sushi but I tried everything and actually didn't mind it, as it all tasted so good with the many client-bought drinks that were accompanying it. When the bill came, the waiter leaned over and said to me, "Didn't you go to Syracuse?" I looked up and sure enough, it was this guy that I had seen in the bars for years but had never known. I gave him my number and an invitation for the party the next night, and laughed at my luck at having a run-in so far from home.

I woke up Monday, party day, at 7AM. Hit the breakfast buffet at 8, the pool at 9. Since it was Vegas in August, I think I left the pool at 9:30 - way too hot. Nevermind the leisure, though; our job was to distribute invitations to the press staying at all the different hotels around the city. In four hours we hit every major hotel, and I got my crash course in Vegas. It felt like anything but work.

My job for the night was to get the camera crews upstairs to the VIP room and coordinate any interviews with the client and the headlining performer, Wyclef Jean. Now, I had coordinated TV segments before, but I had never managed celebrity interviews. Fortunately, Wyclef was the most chill man imaginable, and he didn't even notice how nervous or tongue-tied I was. The only celebrity to show was Gary Coleman, and it tickled me to be in a room with such vastly different characters.

My post ended around 11PM, and I went to find my new friend, who had brought some of his friends to the party. We stayed at the Hard Rock for a bit, although ultimately ended up at some club at the Venetian, which was the only club open on a Monday night. More people met us out, and the next thing I knew, they were dropping me off at 5 AM. Exhausted, I (of course) slept through my 7 AM wake-up call, and missed my 9 AM flight back to the New York. I ended up catching the next one, and only partly worried about what I was going to tell my boss. It was Vegas, after all, I couldn't stress too much.

Turned out, I didn't need to stress at all. The next day I was given a $250 bonus and an extra day off as a "thank you" for jumping in and being such a team player. Of course, I had the time of my life and felt like I should have been paying them. Or at least paying someone to ensure that what really happened there, stayed there.