K. recently moved to Las Vegas. She’s been here for three months, but she’s never been to a proper Vegas club. Opportunity’s never really come up, she said. So last weekend, I gave her that opportunity. Some people donate to UNICEF; some people volunteer with Habitat for Humanity. Me? I took K. to Pure at Caesars Palace. It’s my way of giving back to the community that’s given so much to me.

First we went over the basics:

“Are we going to have to wait in line?” (Probably not, but you never know.)

“Who are the people sitting in those booths behind the ropes?” (Mostly tourist guys who paid for the tables and girls who got shuffled there by various promoters.)

“Can we get drinks?” (Yes, let’s.)

I went for a gin martini; K. went for a triple (!!!) vodka and Red Bull. She kindly offered to get the next round, but that was before she learned that two shots cost a good deal more than the $20 she’d brought with her.

Welcome to Vegas, K.

We chatted up a girl in a tiara, who, sure enough, was about to get married. “What do you like about your fiancée?” I asked.

“He’s blonde and tall and really hot. And he likes me a lot.”

I give the marriage two years. Looks are incredibly important, but when you’re describing what you like about your future spouse, I don’t think they should be the first three of four things mentioned.

“And how long have you two been dating?” the girl asked us.

“K.’s just a friend from magic club. We’re both magicians.”

It was the truth, but the bride-to-be didn’t believe it.

“Really. Show her a trick,” I told K., who instead went off to dance with some butch lesbian.

It feels good to give back.