The WAC(AC)-ness Continued
Read about the first half of WACAC 2008...
Sure we were at the conference for work-related business and we were supposed to be learning things, but it's not very easy to concentrate when 1. your hotel room is 30 seconds away from the conference, 2. the casino is 20 seconds away from the conference, and 3. alcohol is in the water bottle in your hand.
After a tepid pool party mixer where our office positioned itself on one of two cabanas and did not move, much less talk to other people, we finally mobilized to head over to Ghostbar. Mind you, by the time that we got everybody changed and out the door, it was close to 11:00 and the voice inside my head was screaming that I should get to bed in order to have a chance of waking up for the next day. Against my better judgment I followed everybody else outside. I needed my rest, but how many times was I going to be in Vegas?
Ghostbar was exactly as I'd left it, but the city of Vegas had grown up a bit. As I stared out over the developing skyline, I saw the construction of some new multi-million dollar lofts on the strip. A brisk wind encircled my body and ran away with any whispers of heat that still clung to me as I looked out into the night. Below, thousands of people were milling about, eating, coming home from shows, and gambling, but up on the deck everything looked still. Neon lights faded in and out as revelers danced the night away high above the Vegas plane. I was tired and it was late, but it was good to be alive.
Nothing of much import happened the next day other than my general sluggishness and the open bar at the college fair. WACAC in Vegas was the best idea ever! Drinking a free glass of wine made the situation much more manageable.
Fast forward to the next night, which held more promise as it was our last night in Vegas and we had to capitalize on our last chance to make our plans happen.
For two of the three years that I have been at this conference, we have arrived at our group dinner in a party bus. In San Jose, this was more like a tram that ran to the airport, but in Vegas we were treated to shiny black plastic, purple lights, and two stripper poles. Okay, so maybe they weren't actually stripper poles, but any silver metal pole in Vegas is a stripper pole to me. Dinner at Burger Bar was good, but not remarkable but it was a good warm-up for the events to come.
After the meal was over and done with, a number of people headed out to experience the Red Square Bar. I'll admit that I had heard of the bar prior to coming to Vegas but it never really interested me as I'm not a heavy drinker and don't generally like to spend a lot of money on things that I won't enjoy fully. We piled into the bar and finally decided to give the vodka ice locker a shot. As we headed in, we subjected the poor hostess to any number of insufferable inconveniences as we paused to take pictures in our coats and on every conceivable space inside the locker.
Our office might appear to be scary to high school students, but we are, at heart, a bunch of goofs.
Inevitably, we attempted to recreate stereotypical scenes of Russian life, including being cold, being poor, being sad, being arrested, and fighting. Okay, so we're not the most politically correct office either. Give us a break. For the record, can we see that everybody in the above photo is smiling and posing except for one person who'd rather drink? And all of those bottles were not for us--I think I would have passed out if that were the case.
After attempting to drink an entire bottle of vodka in 20 minutes, our group headed out with frozen fingers and high spirits. Next on the list was to use some industry night passes at Tryst.
All right, so here's the thing. I generally dislike nightclubs for a number of reasons and Vegas has to be one of the worst places to go. I'm much happier in a lounge setting and clubs are just full of sweaty, noisy, rude people that make it difficult to have a decent conversation. I know, I'm old and probably don't even belong in a nightclub despite being in my 20's.
Due to some fortuitous circumstances, we had free passes to the club and we had a connection who knew the head of security and we were able to get whisked through the VIP line and straight into the establishment. Let me say that this is the first time that this has happened to me and I had all kinds of gripes about the pretentious nature of the VIP line, but I loved being on the other side of the rope. It felt so good to be able to breeze by some people who had been waiting for hours to get in and feel their glares on my back. It's official. I had become that guy. I had been sucked into the glamorous life of the very important people and I could not get enough.
The club itself was fine and was as expected--packed, noisy, and full of inappropriate contact with people. Nobody was being pushy on purpose, I don't think, but in the course of dancing, you inevitably bumped into people. This was all well and good until it kept happening. Alcohol, heat, and irritation do not mix, folks.
Having had our fill, we headed out into the nearby lounge area and proceeded to decompress. It had been a long night, and everybody's feet had taken a bit of a beating. Despite it being almost 2:00 in the morning, people were still lined up outside of the club waiting to get in. As I sipped some sparking water and slid back into the sofa, I recounted the events of the past few days and concluded that Vegas had been a success. I had gotten some work done, networked a bit, and managed to accomplish a bunch of things in a short span of time.
Heading back to Los Angeles was a surreal experience--I knew all along that this time would come but that didn't stop me from wanting to stay in Vegas a little bit longer. I knew that life amongst the glittering lights was not one that I ultimately wanted or one that I could sustain for an extended period of time, but that did not stop me from missing the experience.