What Always Happens in Vegas (to me:)

I never cared much for Las Vegas.   I deplore gambling and never understood the appeal of losing money as entertainment and fun.  Personally, I’d rather go to the dentist, but sometimes we find ourselves in Sin City, not to commit the aforementioned transgressions of drink, vice and everything in between, but because we have to earn money to be able to commit these affronts to our creator.   (Yes, I’m in close contact with him/her and he/she has told me that the actual purgatory that we read about is located between the dilapidated Harrah’s and wherever Mariah Carey is staying when she’s doing her residency on the Strip.)  While I have nothing against Elvis, Celine, JLo, Brittany and even Ms. Carey, I am hypersensitive to the nefarious energy that sticks to the place like my last FB stalker to my comment thread.  Like an aging woman who puts on way too much make-up, gets a face lift and faux “enhancements” to recapture her youth, Vegas is still a cubic zirconia, no matter how much platinum, glitz and venture capital is poured into her.  If Vegas was a woman, she’d be Tila Tequila.  Sounds ruthless, but let me explain.

I’m an empath. Not a sociopath, psychopath or any other “path”, but a person who has way too much empathy.  I feel, therefore I am and when I go to a place with many people, I am bombarded with all of their energies.  If they are happy, I am recharged.  If not, I am depleted.  If they are desperate, it clings to me like stale cigarette smoke in the casinos where I was shocked that it is actually legal to smoke in.  Whether it’s the elderly lady with her walker at the slot machines or a crew of tattooed young men acting like they are on “Rumspringa”, trying to pick up women, regardless of anyone’s marital status, I am uncomfortable.  It’s not that I am self-righteous or holier than anyone.  I just don’t get it.  Being a woman probably has a lot to do with it. Somehow Vegas gives a license to predatory men to lose any semblance of manners.  If you say “hello” to a guy, it means you want him (ok, I guess that applies outside of Vegas too).  What usually “happens” to me in Vegas stays there, because I, actually, STAY in my room and watch TV.  Yes, I’m an extremely exciting individual.  Let me illustrate my “wild times” in the desert playground.

Wherever I go, I try to bring spirituality.  Growing up as a Lubavitcher Chasid, I have always been taught to go forth and reveal the hidden sparks and light that are contained even in the darkest places and executing this enlightenment in Vegas is surprisingly not that difficult.  People are hungry for faith, especially at the poker table.  On my last trip, while returning to my room at the end of the day and preparing to gamble on whether or not I should watch a pay-per-view movie, I received a text from a wonderful woman who had recently divorced.   It seems her ex was not returning her calls or texts.  She requested my help and asked if I could please speak with him.  I called him, even though I had not seen him in over ten years and the memories of that were not too pleasant (nothing to do with him) and left him a voice mail, saying I was in Vegas.  Surprisingly, he called me back, immediately.  He gushed on about how he loved living in Las Vegas.  I spoke to him at length for about an hour when he said “Why don’t you get your _____into a shower and get over here to the Poker table”.  I told him, I don’t like gambling or watching people gamble, but since I wanted to mediate something and help, I went.  I put on my heels, some lip gloss and left my life-partner (the TV) and dragged myself to the Aria, where the intensity of the people playing poker was palpable and uninviting.  I thought it rather ironic, that the silence was thick and tense in a place where people are supposed to be enjoying themselves.   Joseph (not his real name) began waxing philosophical about the brilliance of poker and its players.  I wasn’t impressed.  To me, it seemed a bit shady, but the guys (no women) around the poker table were all highly educated and intelligent.  Maybe there was something to this.  I deduced that these guys were very much like techies, left brained, great at math with nerves of steel, all the attributes, that have eluded me.  So I watched.  We really couldn’t have a full conversation, but snippets between hands went as follows:

Joseph:  “So, how are you?”
Me:  “I’m not a gambler.  I take too many risks in real life and I don’t enjoy it for fun” (I’m basically a wet noodle- a Gluten-free one)

To my detriment, I generally reveal too much of my life within seconds of meeting a person, like the fact that I’m a vegan and an observant Jew with tinnitus.  Joseph tells me he is no longer observant, but loves to go to shul and have a Shabbat meal.  Like many people who grew up ultra-orthodox, his path went in a different direction.  For me, being a religious Jew, has helped me in every aspect of my life.  It has provided me with much needed stability, but I understand that some people don’t feel that way and I respect that, but I go on anyway.

Me: “Some people are religious and not spiritual, while others are very spiritual and not religious.  One is not dependent on the other.  (Someone once told me that the original Buddha and I share the same birthday.  I don’t think he’d be too happy about it.)

I was attempting to enlighten the folks at the table, but it clearly wasn’t working because a 30-something year old handsome guy piped in.

Guy:  “Religion is a terrible thing.  Most wars are caused by religious ideology.”

It didn’t take long for someone to bash religion, but I went on.

Me:  “I really feel that Jews have never really wanted to battle  or force our religion on others, in fact quite the opposite”

Guy:  “Well that’s what the true Muslims say, as well, but there are factions that disagree with that”.

Me:  “Being religious gives you discipline and people need that certainty in uncertain life.  That is why people gravitate towards religion, especially the Islamic one, because Islam means “submission”.  You don’t need to make choices, since you submit to the religion.”

Guy:  “I don’t think that’s true.  It means religion of peace”.

I decided it was time for me to leave, but Joseph won his hand and told me to stay another round.  Meanwhile the guy had googled Islam and apologized to me.

“Wow, you’re right.  I learn new things every day.  Thanks for pointing that out”.

I love when people are receptive and not too insecure to admit a mistake.  I figured I better leave while I’m ahead. I bade farewell to them, since I wasn’t able to have an actual conversation while they were playing.  I teetered back to the front of the hotel, wondering whether I should take a taxi, even though I was staying on the strip.  Since I was very unfamiliar with the whole area, I had no idea of where to go.  All I saw were various ramps.  As I contemplated my dilemma, I turn to my right and a gentleman appeared from nowhere.  He was tall, broad, about fifty with intense eyes and a uni-brow.  I resisted the urge to tell him to wax them, but he was very pleasant looking.  He seemed harmless, but it WAS Vegas, so I politely moved away from him, but really didn’t know where I was going.  He asked me if he could walk me to wherever I was going with a thick Texas drawl, which I don’t hear too often in Brooklyn. He reminded me of Don Johnson, the quintessential non-Jew.   He was the furthest thing from a Jewish guy from Long Island as you can get.  I asked him  how to get back to the hotel I was staying.  He replied by giving me an elevator pitch.

“Look, I know you don’t know me, but I’m not married.  I have a good job and I’m a gentleman.  Allow me to please walk you to your hotel. “

(I mean “Dexter” also looks like a nice guy) I didn’t want to end up dead in Vegas, so I began to walk away, but he wasn’t giving up.  Of course, he was in sales.

“You can google me and check me out.  I used to play football and I now work in sales for the Wyndham hotels.  I’m from Texas.  I never was married and I don’t, currently, have a girlfriend”.

I take my phone and google him.  He seemed legit and I didn’t know where I was going and allowed him to walk with me.  He was giving me the grand tour of Vegas and told me that living there was not like the strip.  It was very family oriented and beautiful in the desert.  He was selling, selling, selling.  I told him he didn’t have to sell to me, but he kept going as he escorted me back. He asked if I wanted a drink and we both ordered water in the hotel lobby.  I told him I was Jewish and shockingly, he told me that he was too.  I couldn’t resist, but to try to sell him on MY brand, which is Kaballah.  He was clearly not interested.  It seemed he had some issues with the religion.  He was very bright and analytical and tried to veer the conversation towards dating.  I wasn’t a fan of dating, because I found it awkward.  He agreed and we had a very pleasant conversation.  He then asked me.

“So how are the rooms here”? (typical)

I replied, “Sorry, but you are NOT going to see the inside of mine”.

He laughed “Oh, I didn’t mean that”.

“Sure, you did”!  I had to give him credit. I thought he probably excelled at his job.

He turned and gave me his phone number on a piece of paper. 

“Hey, here’s my number.  If you need a ride to the airport or you want to hang out and go out to dinner or something, let me know”.

I thanked him and headed on back to the room where I devoured a bag of baked Lays and watch TV.  No one would ever guess that this is what I do in Vegas.

It takes SO little to make me happy.