Dateline: Harry Reid International Airport, Terminal 1, Gate D5 1220am Sunday morning.
I hate Las Vegas. Let me state that again…I categorically, unashamedly, willfully, viciously and with extreme prejudice despise Las Vegas. Not necessarily those that reside there, although they cater to the problem. No, I hate the transients (of which I am, for better or worse and sadly, one).
I came here to teach a surgical course at a breast cancer meeting. I do find it odd that promoters of health and wellness (aren’t we SUPPOSED to be?) so frequently choose this venue, other than that the organizers get a great deal. Vegas is the poster child for hedonism and corruption, right? The in-your-face, gawdy, so-what-are-you-going-to-do-about-it variety.
I arrived here voluntarily, though, and all of my expenses are being paid. I even had a gratis meal tonight prior to departure for my redeye home, courtesy of a sales representative (God bless capitalism).
Bone-in veal chop at Gordon Ramsey (he wasn’t there, although he has a most punchable face, right up there with Keith Olbermann and Joe Scarborough). It was, well, average, far from worth the price expensed away. The Orin Swift Eight Years in the Desert red blend was nice, but I have that at home. The Khaleesi stayed home with a broken toe, incurred during a particulary aggressive dragon dismount.
Vegas used to be kind of cool. I first came here in the early 1980’s with the ex when a room at the old Tropicana was $49 and steak and eggs was $2.99. No longer. I “remarried” the Khaleesi here in 2016 under the iconic Vegas sign, chaffeured and officiated by proto-Elvis and his camerawoman/girlfriend in a pink Caddy convertible. That iconic sign was Old Cool Vegas. I constructed an elaborate ruse to get her down to the Bellagio entrance in dress attire. Even back then, though, it was awash with and defiled by the loud, bellicose, drunk stupids. America took that “What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas” marketing campaign to heart. Zero-accountability good clean American fun, with an empty wallet and a side of curbside vomit and Chlamydia, hold the mayo, please. My Somali Uber driver told me on the way to the airport that he ferries dead-broke tearful amateur gamblers to the airport frequently. Somali, who has figured it out
We were back in 2018 to see Van Morrison (lousy show) and I returned in January 2020 right before the COVIDiocy to teach a course. Each time the crowd has been more coarse. It’s much, much worse now, truly a window into a segment of our cultural dysfunction and decline.
Is the economy teetering on life support? Deutsche Bank collapsed yesterday but you sure wouldn’t be able to tell here. The casino floor at Paris (yes, I know, dated and long in the tooth, but it’s where the meeting and my comp’d room was) was packed and the restaurants had lines. Sidewalks were jammed. Taylor Swift played last night and tonight to sold-out crowds at the new NFL sportsball stadium. Are these folks, inebriated and lechering (yes, Webster’s says that’s a real word), clued in to something I’m not?
I ran an errand by Uber (much, much better with a scheduled pickup than the cabstand out front) last night out to suburban Summerlin, and it was more normal, so the Strip is really the problem. And the airport, much more than simply being consecrated with the name of a repugnant criminal, is merely an extension of the Strip with runways, TSA (surprisingly amiable tonight) and turbofan exhaust. Regrettably, with Nellis AFB next door, it won’t just be the Strip that Vlad incinerates if he goes full hypersonic. Maybe it will be Xi, although I think he would want to preserve the real estate and gaming venues for his bohemian proletariat…they can’t ALL go to Macau. Do you think any of the dawdling transients ever wonder about it, and like concerns?
When trolling through areas such as this airport, I’m rather fond of quietly observing the behavior of those in proximity, and wondering how each one would fare if, in the next moment, we suffered an EMP event. Unsurprisingly, my assessment is almost universally, “not well”.
Apologies for the lack of serious discourse and pertinent links. Just freestyling while waiting on this redeye. Eight hours to Khaleesi…..
I’m boarded and seated now, 2A. Business class just means more space and first off these days. The masked guy in 2B asked me if I would mask up. I smiled.
Thanks for reading, and remember, don’t get sick.
When the wheels come off, the initial toll is going to be something to behold. Most people are simply too stupid and disinterested to see the warning signs.
The Withering will occur in stages:
* Medically impaired -- 2 weeks tops.
* The obese -- 30 days and that's stretching it.
* Normies -- 60 to 180 days tops.
* Pharmacologically impaired -- 90 days tops.
* Psychotically impaired -- 90-180 days, depends on meds and how they F'up and meet 2300fps.
* Those prepared -- 270 days to infinity.
Best guess is past 90 days things wind down then the warlord stage ensues if the govt has completely collapsed. Woodpile report guidance applies.
PS: I am stealing the learning meme. Lawyers phone # available upon request. 3 fingers of whatever is desirable offered as remuneration.