Short story |
What happens here stays here ... seriously!
Monday Morning: First thing off the plane, my pregnant wife and I head to the casino. I win big. When I cash out my winnings, the security guard grabs my arm, holds it for a long, intense moment, and tells me, "What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas." I ask why he is telling me this, but he doesn't answer because he is too busy pocketing all of my winnings.
Tuesday: On the Strip, I save an old woman from being hit by a speeding taxi. She thanks me. Her tone abruptly changes, and she warns me not to tell anyone about my heroic actions outside of Las Vegas or she will "hunt me down and bash my brains in," with her walker, I presume.
Wednesday: Wife and I check out an Elton John concert. It is an amazing show, and afterward we are able to meet the legend himself. He signs an autograph, we take a picture, and he chats with us a great deal. I mention that my friends at home will never believe this, and he becomes angry, tells me they never will because they'll never know about it. He rips up the autograph, smashes my camera and says that if I ever talk about meeting him, he will spend his vast fortune making my life miserable.
Thursday: Wife and I visit the Liberace Museum. We find it very informative and entertaining. We take some brochures to recommend to friends and family back home. The tour guide tears them out of our hands and advises us not to talk about Liberace outside of Las Vegas. Fed up, I tell her that I will talk to whomever, wherever I like about Liberace. Two large security guards enter, carrying the largest rhinestone in the world, and threaten to hit me with it unless I promise not to tell anyone outside of Vegas about the good time we had at the museum.
Friday: My wife goes into labor. I become the proud father of an 8-pound, 7-ounce baby boy. I try to call my mother and father to let them know the good news, but a nurse slaps my cell phone out of my hand. I tell her I thought that "Whatever happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas" only applies if a person does something naughty. She looks at me as if I just said the dumbest thing in the world.
Saturday: Wife is recuperating. I am careful not to use the phone or mention to anyone anything about Las Vegas. I am quiet, considerate, conscientious. I am awakened from a nap and beaten by hospital orderlies who claim they can tell I was dreaming about telling people about something that happened in Vegas outside of Vegas.
Sunday: We're at the airport ready to return home. As we wait to board the plane, the police arrive. "What do you think you're doing?" they ask. Going home with my wife and baby, I say. They respond, "Sir, I think you know ... your baby is already home." My wife and I plan to return to Vegas every few months to check on our baby and see how he's growing up. After all, Vegas is the entertainment capital of the world, and whatever happens there deserves to stay there, I guess.
– Rick Stoeckel
A stunning achievement in local filmmaking |
I keep waiting for someone to make a genuinely good local feature film, but in the meantime I end up seeing stuff like My 9/11, a "para-documentary" from filmmaker Marko Sakren. Sakren believes he had a premonition in 1980 and saw signs that foretold the events of 9/11, and was overcome with guilt after failing to warn people about the coming disaster. His pretentious, narcissistic documentary chronicles his efforts to overcome the deep depression that he endured after 9/11 (despite not actually witnessing the event or knowing any of the victims). It's one long, ponderous montage, with some bad acting (in re-enactments) and lots of soul-searching voice-over. The DVD started skipping about an hour into the movie; I should have taken that as a sign to stop watching.
My 9/11 premieres at the Brenden Theatres in the Palms on February 18 at 5 p.m. Tickets are $10, and DVDs are also available. www.my911movie.com.
– Josh Bell
Wild political book of the week |
In America at Night: The True Story of Two Rogue CIA Operatives, Homeland Security Failures, Dirty Money, and a Plot to Steal the 2004 U.S. Presidential Election—by the Former Intelligence Agent Who Foiled the Plan (Riverhead, $26.95), former spy Larry J. Kolb recounts this tale: In early 2004, a former CIA agent paired up with a con man to fix the presidential election. Kolb fires up his old intelligence network and, with just his old files, an Internet connection and a telephone, tracks down these two shadowy men and learns they have an explosive plan: tie John Kerry's campaign manager to al Qaeda and scuttle his bid for the White House. Much of this book seems too wild to be true, but Kolb has produced a mountain of evidence, which suggests that maybe the shenanigans of Watergate aren't behind us—they've just gone freelance.
– John Freeman
A shoe thing |
Shoes, sneakers, kicks—so many brands, so many flavors, but where can a guy find what he's craving? I'm hungry for something rare, not something you can find in your local sneaker shop. I'm starving for some Nike SBs, New Balances, Vans Vaults or maybe some Adidas—but where? Thankfully, Vegas, we are now home to one of four U.S. locations of Undefeated, which at one point was exclusive to LA. No more four-hour drives—what I save in gas I can spend on shoes. Hallelujah! 4480 Paradise Road No. 400, 732-0019. – Wesley Gatbonton
The one-minute vegan doughnut critic |
The apple fritters and maple twists? Vegan. The more-traditional chocolate- and maple-glazed? Vegan. Of more than a dozen doughnut options available this particular morning, only those little cakey ones on the bottom and four sprinkle-covered specimens aren't veg-head-friendly. The soy-cream-filled variety, however, is your best bet: a chocolate-topped, texture-melding treat bursting with a pocket of pudding-like deliciousness. Light, fresh, not overly sweet and surprisingly cheap, these gooey beauties are the best way to elevate the blood sugar—in a socially and health-conscious manner, natch. Ronald's Donuts, 4600 W. Spring Mountain Road,
873-1032.
– Julie Seabaugh