One of the main recurring thoughts that's been whirling around my fevered brain is: how the hell can I write up my 2.5 days in Las Vegas? (The other thought is will I ever get over this freaking cold/cough, but being away from smoke filled casinos seems to be clearing that up nicely. And thanks to all who refrained from giggling during our conversations when my voice cracked like a boy's at puberty.)

I'm completely flummoxed. Do I write about the moments? The experiences? The gambooling? The people? Or do I write about how it's shaped me, even over a period as short as a weekend?

It's almost too much.

There were the initial moments of wandering through the airport parking lot with Joanne, Maudie and Gary looking for Joanada's car - she'd been on the phone with Gary when she parked it, and had forgotten where it was. Now, I've talked to Gary on the phone, and have experienced the effects of his velvety voice firsthand, so I completely understand why she forgot the car. But it doesn't mean I didn't make her buy me several Kamikaze's at the Geisha Bar to make up for the delay in getting alcohol into my system.

Oh the Kamikaze...what a vile drink. Add them to the tequila that Pauly handed me, and the beers that Weak and Zeem (and others) handed me, and well, yes there were pear-shaped moments. You have to love bloggers...not only will they get you plastered, they will also run after you to talk you down from the ensuing wicked case of the maudlins.

That first night had a ton of laughs, and I got to meet new people like Linda and Fuel55, but I can't say anything more, as I've been sworn to secrecy. By several people. But I can tell you of my shock when I walked through into the hotel room to see daylight. You could have knocked me over with a feather when I say my watch said 10:30am Toronto time. Last time I did an all-nighter like that, I was much, much younger. Much. Younger.

I awoke at noon Vegas time, and while I wasn't bounding out of bed bright-eyed and bushy tailed, I felt good enough to meet the rest of the bloggers at the Wynn for lunch. Once I was showered, semi-rehydrated, tylenol-ed, dressed and made up I realized just how wrong I was, and laid back down curled up in a semi-fetal position for another hour or so. Joanne and I headed to the restaurant at the IP where we ordered food and then only looked at it for an hour until Gary joined us.

The rest of the afternoon is fuzzy, and the next thing I clearly remember is my delight at finding out that Fiamma in the MGM where Joanne and I had dinner served Bloody Caesar's. It is THE BEST drink for settling one's umm ... delicate ... condition after a night of excess, BAR NONE! Honestly, I don't know why it's hasn't caught on in the US before this. Add that to an incredible meal of divine pasta, and suddenly I was human again.

From there it was on to the merriment at the MGM poker room where I donked off $100 on CORSE but had a lark doing it (my first live straddle, wheeee!), and then giggled it up at the Sports Book. Jules, I swear I did try to give you a Dial-A-Shot or Dial-A-Butt-Grab there, but the big dude said no cell phones. I have witnesses, not that they're any more credible than I am *grin.

Best moments there include:

• meeting Daddy
• watching Carmen with the Marines
• watching the look on Waffles face as Carmen was showing me just how good my boobs would look with either 1) a boob job (never going to happen) or 2) a good push up bra (which I have but it ruins the lines of the leather tank top I was wearing). My reward for being part of this show was Waffles losing control and accidentally pouring beer down my back when he went to hug me. Totally worth it.
  
• having enough self restraint not to ask for a martini

Oh, and while I think of it, here's an interesting little statistic for you:

• Number of time I grabbed/patted/stroked somebody's butt = 3
• Number of times my butt was grabbed/patted/stroked = 9-ish

Thanks to this freaking cold I faded fast though, and left early at 3-ish. Which meant that I woke up at 9-ish. Realizing that Joanne wasn't back yet made me kick myself, because I just knew I'd missed something. (Sidenote - that feeling of missing something good is prevalent at blogger events...you just can't do it all, as much as you'd like. Unless of course, your name is GCox. What a rock star - like 4 hours sleep in 72!).

Went downtown with Weak for breakfast, which turned into far more of an adventure than one would think as much of downtown was closed off. Initially we thought it was a film shoot as there were hundreds of people wandering around in Santa suits, but it was the end of a Fun Run. Pretty freaking surreal.

Barely made it back to wake Jo at the appointed time, where her response to "Are you going to the WPBT tourney?" was "unngnggghahaaaaaa".

I loved playing the tourney where I got a kick-ass if scary starting table of F-train (aka my hero), Maudie, Dawn, Pauly, -EV, Carter, Surly Poker Gnome and the tardy Grubby. I finished firmly in the middle of the pack as I am wont to do, and my hammer bounty was won by -EV mere moments before the Rooster bluffed Gracie off her hammer with...a hammer!

Best lines I heard at the tourney:

• "beep boop beep boop...Poker bot says: CALL", F-train to -EV as -EV was taking a long time pondering F-Train's raise.
• "Fast playing is the new slow playing", -EV
• "After a few days, we all sort of morph into one big bloganism", Falstaff
• "Cool! I'm the meat in a McGrupp grope sandwich", me
  

I donked off another $100 at the $1/$2 NLHE limit table while waiting for Joanne to surface, where my set of jacks were given concrete overshoes by a set of kings delivered by a player who was the spitting image of this guy.

Once Jo showed up, Weak grabbed us and Gary and drove us to the Rio's buffet where we had a blast. Gary was telling us a story about how he looked in one bar and there was a midget running up and down on the bar, pouring drinks for people, and they were going wild. "And everyone is yelling Yay Iggy!" Joanne replied. This was another evening where I faded fast, and split for bed after the PokerTek thing ended.

Colds suck. Colds in Vegas suck huge.

Let me tell you, it's pretty surreal to wake up refreshed, head down to the casino floor and talk with people who have been there all night. I made a run for coffee (mmm coffeee....hadn't had any in 3 days no wonder I had a headache!) then sat at the Pai Gow table with Gary and Easycure.

OMFG, that is one fun game. I'm hooked. And that's at 11am. I can only imagine what it would have been like with Waffles. and Garth.

PAAAIIIII GOOOWWWWWWWWWWW!

My last moments in Vegas were spent with the rest of the morning-after degenerates in the sports book, drinking more Caesar's and getting as many hugs in as I could before leaving.

The truest thing I said all weekend was "I don't want to wait seven months before seeing you again." Of course, the sincerity of the line (and it's VERY sincere) may have been ruined by me pouting and stamping my feet.

I really didn't want to leave just yet.

This is my third blogger event. The first one in July was to meet everyone for the first time, and the second one, the Bash was to get drunk and let off some steam. I had no real expectations of this one, other than to hang and take a vacation from my life for a bit.

But you know what they say; everywhere you go, there you are. And this trip turned out to be not so much a vacation from my life as a series of insights into it. A Douglas Adams quotation works well here:

“He was constantly reminded of how startlingly different a place the world was when viewed from a point only three feet to the left.”

You can go for years along a certain course, acting a certain way, holding certain beliefs, understanding certain things. Then in one weekend, one day, one hour, or one minute, things will change.

I stepped three feet to the left.

Things have shifted; not a lot, not in a bad way. Things that I have railed against have fallen into place somewhat....which is not to say I won't rail against them in the future, but for now, all is well. There was no great lightbulb moment that caused this, no Eureka. Just the ebb and flow of conversation and alcohol among friends.

And I do count a number of you as my friends now. You know who you are. While this is yet another word that gets eroded from overuse, I don't use it lightly. You need help moving, or moving a body, I'll be there with beer, boxes, packing tape and/or a shovel. Like the joke goes:

An acquaintance will tell you not to do something. A friend will bail you out of jail after you do that something. A real friend will be sitting beside you in jail saying "damn that was fun!".

And people wondered why I was getting teary-eyed in my goodbyes. Damn, that was fun!