Tuesday, February 9, 2010
Day 40 - Pushing it in Vegas
At House of Blues we saw the last set of Ronnie Rose. Ronnie was wailin'. He was on his 6th night straight and his voice was failing him a bit, but the singing he held back from us he more than made up for with his harmonica (Sorry you missed it, Robin.)
Here are the kind of things that I notice... the guitar player looked just like Joe Mantegna, the bass player just like Derek Daly, and the guy sitting up from, from the back, was a dead ringer for Larry David, from the back.
Ronnie felt bad that he couldn't sing, so he gave out free CDs and autographed each one, as he apologized unnecessarily.
It was 10:00pm, pretty late, especially having traveled 3 time zones west, so we were about ready to... "Hey, what's going on over there?"
What was over there was the most fun I've had in Vegas, maybe ever. The band (I think they were called Lemon, never did make it out. First time I thought he said Women.) plays only requests. It's like a live jukebox. They played everything. They played great. They rocked.
Anyway, too many great moments in the 3 sets we were there for to call any out... ok, just one. Someone requested Spirit of Radio, which apparently these guys had never played before, at least not together. It wasn't perfect, but damn if it didn't rock hard.
Ok, this is a running blog... get to the point...
Was out past 4:00. Woke up just in time to jump onto a conference call. Midway through that call I realized I hadn't eaten in 24 hours. Lunch had to happen quickly.
I'd reached that point where you're so hungry that nothing sounds good. We picked an asian noodle place, pretty much by default because it was at its entrance where we decided we couldn't take another step without fuel.
The service was sooooo slooooooooow. I was eating drops of the lava-like sauces left on the table next to the soy sauce. I threatened to eat the place mat, which was made of natural fibers... I'm thinking a grass.
Eventually the food did arrive and we inhaled it. And it was fudging tasty. Better than the place mat would have been.
Somehow it had drifted past 2:00p. I had to work at 3:00p. Crap.
Booked it to the room and started to throw on my running gear in what was just short of a panic.
Then I realized there was just no way.
I dressed for work, and headed to the show floor for my 3.5 hour shift. Standing. 3.5 hours. Concrete covered by cheap carpet and no padding. This is pure evil on feet and legs and mood.
The good news, the floor was dead at 6:00. We bolted.
Another mad dash to the room, geared up, out the door to elevator gridlock. I guess everyone bailed at 6:00.
Coming off the elevator, I saw Seth, co-worker, fellow booth slave, and running bud. He was still wearing his blue blazer and a dejected look. He had yet another meeting to go to. He looked like the kid whose mom wouldn't let him play ball with the other kids, sitting in the front window, watching all the fun he wasn't having.
Forgot the GPS watch in the room, which was on the other side of that elevator mess, so repeated yesterday's tour of backstage Mandalay Bay. This time, it was dark. And chilly. And wet, having just stopped raining.
Las Vegas has the best sidewalks in the world. Smooth, wide, uniform. Not a crack or toe-stubbing bump. This evening, I was the only one using them. It was like being at an amusement park before it opens. Not a soul on foot but me.
Got it in, though. And now, I'm typing as fast as I can so we can hit the "partner events" and then start the night.
Numbers: 1.2 miles, again. Tomorrow, Seth.
Posted by Douglas White at 7:46 PM