Vegas & The Amazing Meeting (Part III)

Continuing from a previous post . . .

When the alarm went off Saturday morning, my first thought upon waking was, "Why the hell is my head in a bear trap?"

With a quick inspection, I was somewhat delighted to discover that there were indeed no steel teeth digging deep into the sides of my skull after having been triggered by a thousand pound per square inch spring load. But at the same time, I was distressed because my brain felt like it was as dry as the surrounding dessert and as swollen as a basketball. I just knew various important lobes would soon be pushing out of my ears, hanging there like pieces of jerked gray meat. My tongue was stuck to the roof of my mouth. One eyelid was calked shut. The inside of my nose was like a box of Triscuits, and someone had poured Drano and battery acid into my stomach.

I staggered into the bathroom, pried the calked eye open, noted the red-threaded pattern that had replaced the whites, fell into the bathtub, and turned the shower on. Before the water hit me, my breath actually melted the shower curtain, and the Drano and battery acid threatened to make a surprise appearance. Fortunately, it was a false alarm, and the water washed the nausea away while providing a little hydration for the piece of leather that was my tongue.

Shortly before I drowned, I climbed out, dried off, brushed my teeth, gargled with some sulfuric acid and Listerine, and dressed for the conference.

Rebecca decided to eat the Continental breakfast again, but I couldn't stomach it in my current state. The fruity little nibblets didn't appeal to me, but I needed to hydrate, so I downed two bottles of water and a bottle of orange juice (because I'm so health conscious), and then grabbed a large cup of joe for a caffeine kicker. I drained half the coffee, refilled the cup, and grabbed another bottle of water for good measure before finding my seat near the stage.

Peter Sagal was the first speaker out of the chute on Saturday morning. Sagal is the host of NPR's Wait, Wait, Don’t Tell Me program, and as the theme for this year's conference was skepticism in the media, he was a great speaker to have. His is one of many popular programs aired on NPR, and it's nice to have an intelligent, humorous, and highly creative voice that will challenge people's beliefs.

Humor seemed to be the order of the day for Day 2, as the next guest to appear at the podium was Scott Dikkers, Editor of The Onion. Scott told some hilarious stories of people who contacted him unaware that The Onion is a satirical newspaper. This is made even funnier if you've ever seen just how far over the top some of The Onion stories are. As an aside, James Randi related a very funny story of how the genius mathematics and science writer, Martin Gardner, was even fooled at one point, thinking the stories in the online paper were true. It just goes to show that critical thinking can escape even the best of us and gullibility can visit at any time. But Scott's presentation was an enormous hit with the crowd, culminating in a slide presentation (with audio) of some of The Onion's most popular news items. If you can find the audio that accompanies the faux story of the Moon landing, download it, and save it to your hard drive. I had to be resuscitated I was laughing so hard.

Next up on the cavalcade of fun was the Bad Astronomer, Dr. Phil Plait. Phil is actually a very fine astronomer, but he uses the "Bad Astronomer" moniker because he is passionate about fighting bad astronomy, as well as bad science and pseudoscience in general. He had apparently recovered from the Mountain o' Nachos he and I shared on Thursday, as his talk was polished and very funny. Phil examined the way the supposed Moon landing hoax was portrayed in the media, particularly on Fox TV, and he systematically debunked each of the claims made by hoax proponents. He even had a video clip of 72 year old astronaut Buzz Aldrin popping smarmy hoax advocate Bart Sibrel in the mouth when Sibrel kept hounding him and called him a coward, a liar, and a thief. Aldrin is a hero of mine for that punch as much as he is for his accomplishment of walking on the Moon. And Phil Plait is a hero of mine for posing naked next to a telescope for a calendar benefiting skeptical women.

After Dr. Plait exited stage left, we adjourned for lunch, and I gorged myself on some chicken, rice, and steamed vegetables (I was famished because I didn't eat breakfast).

We reconvened an hour later, and John Rennie took the microphone. John is Editor of Scientific American, and I expected the laughs created by the morning session to disappear when he took the stage. But John was very funny as well, which was great because I was really feeling a lot better at this point. The hang over was receding and my head was swimming around less and less. At any rate, John's pretty much seen it all in regard to science during his tenure as editor, and he related much of the history of the magazine and talked about its influence in a very informative and entertaining manner. He was yet another quality guest.

After John Rennie, Christopher Hitchens took the stage. In addition to being a pundit and a very brilliant social and political commentator who is published in magazines, websites, and newspapers all over the world, Hitchens could very well be the only man in Vegas who drank more whiskey over the weekend than I did. Every time I saw him he had a drink in his hand. I just love this guy. Granted, I don't always agree with his point of view (though often I do), but I admire him because he speaks his mind unapologetically with much aplomb and a very acerbic wit. He will verbally shred you to pieces if you're not careful. His talk at the conference covered the recent dust up over the publication of the image of Muhammad in a Danish cartoon. He was a hit and he can share my bottle any day.

Mythbusters has become a very popular program on the Discovery Channel, and we were fortunate to have Adam Savage and Tory Belleci from the show as speakers at the conference. Their show does nothing if not demonstrate skepticism. It approaches myths and urban legends with good science (well as good as can fit in the show's allotted time). And both Adam and Tori seemed thrilled to be among an entire conference of people who are willing to say, "Hey that sounds like bullshit to me, let's test it". Because that's what they do on the show. Both guys took questions, and Adam showed some hilarious outtakes from the program. Again, another very funny, entertaining, and enlightening presentation.

Sticking with the comedy theme, the creators of South Park, Matt Stone and Trey Parker were the final speakers of the day. Matt and Trey have never shied away from any subject when it comes to their highly popular cartoon on Comedy Central, and many times they lampoon some of the same people and issues that scientists and skeptics question all the time. For example, one South Park episode featured so-called psychic John Edward being elected the Biggest Douche In The Universe. Matt and Trey actually consulted with James Randi and the JREF before doing that particular show. And they spoke about that, as well as their shows ripping on 911 conspiracy theorists and Scientology during their talk. One thing I admired about Matt and Trey (even though I still don't know which is which) was their insistence that funny take precedent. They were adamant that, where they would not hesitate to take on any subject or person under the sun, they were first and foremost driven to tell a story and make it funny. I thought that was as it should be.

After that, a lively panel discussion featuring all the speakers and questions from the audience brought Day 2 of The Amaz!ng Meet!ng to a close. There were some peripheral after hours activities, like a performance by a mind-blowing up close magician and illusionist named Jamy Ian Swiss, featuring old-time carny, Todd Robbins, but most of the attendees went to dinner and got geared up for the conference party that would begin at 9:00pm.

This year's party was organized by my roommate, Rebecca, and sponsored by her organization, Skepchicks International. The organization concentrates on skeptical issues as they relate women all over the world. Oh, and by the way, they really know how to throw a party.

Rebecca procured a suite at the Riviera, and we moved all the food, the music, and as much booze up to the room as we could. The conference attendees knew to bring anything special they wanted, and as the guests started to arrive it became apparent that we were not going to be short on alcohol.

The party started slow, as most parties do. Folks were mingling and meeting really for the first time, since most of the 800 plus attendees were at the mercy of the speakers during the daily sessions. But soon, everyone started to loosen up, and before long, a cool Vegas vibe settled over the crowd.

The official conference videographer showed up, and one of the speakers, Dr. Richard Wiseman, stole the camera from him, and was running around conducting his own semi X-rated interviews. If I can get my hands on that footage, I'll YouTube it and post a link here.

In one of the rooms of the suite, a friend of mine named Christian from Germany had organized the Chocolate Challenge. Since the attendees were from all over the world, folks were invited to bring their country's finest chocolate to participate in the challenge. Dr. Phil Plait was one of the judges, and he seemed to really enjoy the chocolate, as well as the various young ladies who fed him pieces in hopes that he would choose theirs as the best.

At one point it became apparent that having folks make their own drinks was going to cause a bottleneck at the bar, so I hopped behind the bar to try my hand at mixology, and that's where I stayed for the rest of the evening. This move turned out to be the smartest thing I did all weekend, because everyone had to come to the bar for a drink. I got to make drinks for Nick Gillespie and Ron Bailey, I got to make a drink for Christopher Hitchens, and I got to chat with all of the celebrities and all the beautiful young ladies in attendance. Plus, just about everyone who came to the bar insisted I have a drink with them, so I was feeling no pain whatsoever, and making some killer drinks. The entire party was getting pleasantly wobbly thanks to me.

Also, from the bar, I could see right into the living area of the suite, which turned into the main gathering place/dance floor, and I had a slightly obstructed view out the sliding glass doors where Las Vegas thrummed some 25 floors below. Amid flourishes of loud laughter, dancing, and the pungent, earthy aroma that occasionally wafted to the bar from the restroom, folks took photos of each other and discussed everything from the latest movies to fake breasts to quantum fluctuation and the discovery of dark matter. How many parties have you been to where that happens?

At one point, Rebecca approached me and asked if I would keep everyone out of one of the bedrooms. She was tired and needed to get some sleep because she had to do a presentation the following morning at the conference. I told her that it would probably be impossible to clear one of the rooms out, let alone keep everyone quiet, and suggested she go down to our other room (I had booked it for that night, too, despite the fact that we had the suite). She agreed and left, meaning that a very tipsy, very generous bartender was now in charge of the party.

Pending litigation and a hazy memory prevent me from relating more details of the party, but at about 3:30am, someone approached the bar to inform me that a small troop of security guards was at the door. I quickly appointed a relief bartender, and made my way through the crowd to see what they wanted.

The following is a close approximation of what went down:

Security: Is this room registered under your name?
Me: No.
Security: Where is the person who's name the room is registered under?
Me (avoiding smart ass remark about poor grammar): Huh?
Security: Who's room is this?
Me: Oh . . . umm . . . She's not here.
Security: Where is she?
Me (lying): I dunno. I'm not sure.
Security: Who's responsible for this party?
Me: That would be me.
Security: Sir, you're going to have to clear the room out right now, or everyone will be kicked out of the Riviera.
Me: Are you serious?!
Security: Yes sir.
Me: That is so cool!
Security: ?????
Me: You just made this party legendary, my friend.
Security: ????
Me: You know what? It would be even better for our reputation if you could bust down the door and pepper spray a few people.
Security: Sir, just . . .
Me: Or at least get some night sticks and club a guy a few times. I'll pick one out for you.
Security: Sir, just clear the room.
Me (somewhat disappointed): All right.
Me (inside the room, shouting to all the party goers): Folks we've got to get out or they're going to kick us all out of the hotel! Security is shutting us down!
Party: Yeah!! Woohoo!!!!!! Whoof!! Whoof!! All Right!!
Security (looking baffled that exiting party goers were stopping to have pictures taken with them): ????????????
Me: Hey everyone, let me straighten up a little and I'll meet you at the bar. See if we can get kicked out of there.

So, with the help of some really great, generous people, I cleaned up a little bit, and then met most of the people from the party downstairs at the bar. At about 5:30am, my brain was sufficiently addled and my eyes were betraying me. They'd gone on strike or something, because they wouldn't focus or stay open anymore. So I staggered to the elevator and somehow made it back up to the suite where the party had been and crashed out.

I didn't get up on Sunday until 9:30am. Day 3 of the conference is the day they have academic paper presentations, and there were only two papers I was interested in hearing about, one of which was Rebecca's on how to become a C-list Internet celebrity.

I was very creaky and in quite a bit of pain, as I made my way down to the conference hall, but happy to have helped Rebecca and the others pull off such a fun party. As I walked down the hall, people I didn't know I knew came up and told me how much fun they had, and how funny I was, and I thought, "Great. Can you tell me what I said?".

Rebecca did her presentation (and it was hilarious and very informative), and I snuck out to finish cleaning the suite. There was about 50 pounds of chocolate left over from the Chocolate Challenge, so I loaded it up and toted it down to the rear of the conference hall. I then had the emcee make an announcement that folks could help themselves, and then I went back up to clean some more.

Rebecca checked out of the suite, and the hotel said nothing about any damage or mess or cost for security, so we got the hell out of there as quickly as we could before they changed their mind.

Later that afternoon, I had lunch with all my old friends, and all my new friends, and all the scientists and celebrities that had the time for us. And before long folks began to filter out to pack up and head for the airport and to the various cities around the world whence they'd come.

I arrived back in Houston tired and hung over, but happy and extremely pleased that I have friends like the people I mentioned in these posts. I went to bed early that night replaying the high hilarity and brilliance of a weekend in Las Vegas well spent and looking forward to doing it all over again next year.

Vegas & The Amazing Meeting (Part II)

Continuing from a previous post . . .

I woke up Friday morning at 8am, well rested and with a fairly clear head; something that has never happened to me before in Las Vegas. I normally see the older tourists meandering along the streets and shuffling through the casinos early in the Vegas daylight hours, and I imagine they are most likely well rested while my friends and I are usually just looking for some heavy fuel and a good Bloody Mary through sunglasses that won't come off until around midnight. Of course there's always the possibility that those older folks are actually young people who partied even harder than we did the night before and that's just how they look after the Las Vegas night kicked their asses, but I'd wager against it. That morning, however, after I went down to the conference and enjoyed a Continental breakfast of some fruit and a danish, I was fresh enough to do a mall walk and roam the strip all day with the blue hairs.

And by the way, just out of curiosity who are the limp-wristed nancy boys that invented the "Continental breakfast"? It's not breakfast. It's barely an appetizer for chrissake. I need to fill the void at breakfast. Give me something with substance.

The hotel has got balls to lay that spread out for us when there are any number of great belly-busting buffets all over town. I heard tell that the Riviera's buffet wasn't among that number, so maybe they were just trying to go in a new direction. Unfortunately, it had about the same impact as when Garth Brooks' went in a new direction by pretending to be a rock singer named Chris Gaines. Crap is crap, not matter what direction it's going.

The meager meal notwithstanding, Jason, Rebecca, Boo, Simon, several others and I took our seats near the stage. The conference began in earnest at 9am with a nap-inspiring presentation by Skeptic Society founder, Dr. Michael Shermer. To his credit, the material was indeed interesting, but if you're under the gun at a conference with heavyweight scientists, top-notch celebrities, and an extremely sharp audience, you better bring your A game.

Dr. Eugenie C. Scott followed Shermer at the podium. Eugenie Scott is the Executive Director of the National Center for Science Education (NCSE). This woman fucking rocks. Plain and simple. If you're not familiar with her or the NCSE, they do many great things, not the least of which is continuing the fight to keep so-called "creation science" out of our public schools. Scott and the NCSE were part of the team that won the recent Federal Court case (Kitzmiller v. Dover) that kept Intelligent Design from being taught as an alternative to Evolution in Pennsylvania public schools. Do yourself a favor and read up on Dr. Scott and the NCSE. They are the good guys for sure.

Nick Gillespie and Ron Bailey of Reason Magazine followed Dr. Scott by presenting some pretty cool libertarian ideas. If I recall correctly, Nick's mantra was something along the lines of, "Teenagers need to be more violent and have more sex." These guys are for free minds and free markets, and they're pretty cool to boot. Dressed in black with a flippant air of sleaze about him, Nick could have easily been a member of The Velvet Underground. And Ron looked like that one preppy we all knew in college who could always get you good drugs.

We took a lunch break, and then Neil Gershenfeld, of the MIT Center for Bits and Atoms gave a presentation on the Fab Labs he's been involved with. These Fab Labs are really amazing things. If you're smart, look into it and be astounded, and if you're not smart, look into it and get a headache trying to figure out exactly what's going on. The basic idea of the Fab Lab is to turn digital computation from being a tool we use into a thing, an end product if you will. And this is done using source sharing and tabletop fabrication of prototypes. Sound complicated? Maybe, but it's really cool, and there are now several Fab Labs around the world.

Next to visit the stage was the venerable magic duo, Penn & Teller. I got the impression that P&T were there just to give our brains a rest, because all they did was open the floor to questions. Sounds boring, but with Penn's boisterousness and occasional wit, and Teller's thoughtfulness (yes, he does talk), it turned out to be an hour well spent. If I had one complaint it's that Teller didn't talk more. I've met him before, and he's a very contemplative though soft-spoken man, but he adds a great deal of value to any discussion.

After Penn & Teller cleared out, Dr. Richard Wiseman took the stage. Richard Wiseman is psychologist and an author, but he's not your therapist, Dr. Phil bullshit artist type psychologist. Wiseman is more of a research psychologist, and he's done studies on some very interesting subjects, like luck and the funniest joke in the world. He takes these sort of avant-garde subjects and applies good science to them. And he is scathingly funny as a presenter.

Wiseman's presentation led perfectly into the after dinner show that featured SNL alum Julia Sweeney and musician Jill Sobule. Their show was outstanding, earning rave reviews from everyone.

That's how the first full day of the conference ended, and we still had the Las Vegas night ahead of us!

For me, I grabbed a quick bite, and decided to play some black jack in the Riviera's casino. While at the table, several friends and conference attendees ambled by, asking if I was going to the Whiskey Party. I told them I absolutely was.

The Whiskey Party is sort of a tradition at the conference. It was started by my friend Mark a few years ago. What happens is this: The girls all get together in one room and have a girls-only Pajama Party. Now the pajamas for said party are indeed Vegas-worthy, but for the first couple of hours, they stick to the girls-only rule, which is kind of a bummer. But while that's going on, the guys gather in another room, each with a bottle of his favorite whiskey, and we drink, scratch, and swear, like men do. The good news is, the girls invariably find out where we are, and soon the parties are mixed into one. And the new hybrid party goes off. With girls in Vegas-worthy pajamas and guys full of whiskey, how could it not?

So, I played black jack for a couple hours, ran to the liquor store, and picked up two bottles of Jameson. I took a shower, and put on something comfortable. Hey, I know how these parties go. If you're okay with having various inorganic and organic substances spilled, poured, or smeared on your nice clothes, by all means dress to the nines. Me? I wore jeans and a T-shirt. Easier to wash clean.

When I arrived at Ed's and Simon's room for the Whiskey Party, I was surprised to see that some of the girls were already there. I didn't mind of course, but some of them decided to forego the preliminaries, and jump right into the rager. And that's what it turned into.

Now, remember, this is in a hotel room. By midnight, there were approximately 45 people crammed in there, and a few more spilling out into the hall. There was so much whiskey, it makes my liver hurt just to think about it. At one point some of the girls from the Pajama Party showed up with enormous chocolate dicks on sticks. Each girl present was then invited to demonstrate her "skills", and might I say, the suppression of the gag reflex was impressive on some of them. I won't name names to protect the innocent, but I'm seeing a lot of these girls in a whole new light.

But that's the type of thing that went on all evening. Raunchy, sleazy, disgusting. You know, fun.

As most of the people at the party were not religious, my friend Kelly decided to have some fun with the Bible that the Riviera was kind enough to place in the nightstand. It amazes me that hotels in a place called Sin City contain Bibles. But that's just me. What do I know? I suppose some sinners want immediate redemption, so they rush back to the hotel to recite scripture and beg for forgiveness. We didn't let anything so asinine detract from our sinning.

Sometime later (time had become a weird, twisted construct thanks to the whiskey and other party paraphernalia, so it might have been an hour or it might have been 30 seconds), someone came rushing in with the conference webcam and a laptop hooked up to the Internet. As a courtesy to those unable to attend, the JREF had set up a webcam and was broadcasting images of the conference at regular intervals. One of the party people had "commissioned" the webcam, and it was now broadcasting images of the party to folks ALL OVER THE WORLD!.

I can't recall everything that transpired in front of that camera, but I'm certain that no less than 75% of it was illegal.

The rest of the party was pretty much a blur. I recall doing an impression of Dr. Richard Wiseman that met with some approval, but the weird thing is, I don't do impressions. I also remember a friend of mine donning a hat, sunglasses, and a cigarette, and he looked just like Hunter S. Thompson. In my mind there is a lingering image of a pile of girls on the bed. I have no idea what they were doing or why, but does it really matter? And I don't recall if any farm animals were introduced into the fray, but that doesn't mean there weren't any.

And so the party raged until about 3:30 or 4am. Ed and Simon seemed okay if everyone stayed, but folks began to filter out anyway. The casino bar awaited the diehards, and that's where we headed next. I often wonder how much whiskey a man can drink in one night, and I'm proud to say that I participated in some practical research that night. I have no idea what time I finally made it to my room, or if Rebecca was with me when I did, but somehow I woke up at 8:30, and threw my body into the shower to prepare for the conference.

It turned out Saturday would be even better than Friday.


Stay tuned for the next post about TAM and my Vegas weekend.

Vegas & The Amazing Meeting (Part I)

Last weekend I went to Las Vegas.

That sentence should by itself be enough for a blog entry, shouldn't it? The images that it brings to mind are sufficient to stir the imagination without the need to expound further. It implies bright lights, gambling, drinking, drugging, hooking, and zero sleep. And by god, that's without a doubt fairly close to an accurate representation of what went down in my little Las Vegas world for four days.

But — and you knew there was going to be a 'but', didn't you? — this was not a regular Las Vegas weekend. This was a Vegas weekend that transcended the standards and expectations of the usual visit. It was a Vegas weekend par excellence, because though it included plenty of bright lights, gambling, drinking, drugging, hooking, and zero sleep, it also featured a little something called The Amaz!ng Meet!ng V.

What the hell is The Amaz!ng Meet!ng? you ask.

Well, for the uninitiated, The Amaz!ng Meet!ng (TAM, as it's commonly called) is a conference that promotes critical thinking, skepticism, and science and focuses on how they relate to the important issues of the day. It is sponsored by the James Randi Educational Foundation (JREF), which is headed by one of the most revered, influential, and respected magicians since Houdini, James "The Amazing" Randi.

This year's gathering was the fifth installment, and was shaping up to be the best in the series to date. The panel of guest speakers featured well-known pop culture figures like Penn & Teller, the Mythbusters, Scott Dikkers (editor of The Onion), and Trey Parker and Matt Stone of South Park fame. Rounding out the lineup were prominent scientists, including Dr. Eugenie C. Scott, Dr. Neil Gershenfeld, the Bad Astronomer Dr. Phil Plait, as well as acerbic pundit Christopher Hitchens.

It was going to be a righteous groove.

Unfortunately, I had a little scare before things even got underway. As the day approached, I wasn't sure I was going to be able to make the trip, because we had an unusual visit from Old Man Winter. He usually holds court well north of us, but for some reason decided to swing south to Houston for a how-do-you-do, and a couple days of frozen rain had airport traffic a bit sketchy. Luckily, however, the temperature climbed barely above freezing, my flight took off on time, and in less than three hours, I stepped out into the bright sunshine of a cool Las Vegas afternoon.

I quickly caught a cab to the Riviera where the conference was being held. The JREF apparently has a thing for vintage Vegas. In fact, the only reason it was held at the Riviera, which is at the far end of the strip and has been forgotten by time, was because the only hotel that is as old and disturbingly gauche as the Riviera, the Stardust, is currently being torn down. Fortunately, TAM had a strong two-year run at the Stardust. The amount to which that fact led to the hotel's demise is unclear, but TAM has now moved on to the greener pastures of the Riviera.

After checking in at the Riviera, just for fun and to kill some time, I walked down the street to the shell that was once the Stardust, and I swear I could hear the low strains of Steve and Edie still emanating through the rubble. Also just for fun, I called my friend, Rebecca, with whom I was rooming for the weekend, and said, "My god, I just got into town and I'm at the Stardust. The place is a wreck. What the hell did you all do last night?"

She played along and responded, "Well, it is Vegas."

Actually what she said was, "You're at the wrong hotel, dumb ass."

(Both responses make me laugh.)

Anyway, after a nostalgic look around, and some harsh words with the demolition foreman (man, those guys can curse), I went back to the Riviera, and checked in with the conference coordinators. They gave me a packet that included my name badge, which was pretty much my meal ticket, and a variety of inserts, along with a tote bag and a nifty T-shirt bearing the name of the conference. I was all set.

Next was the reception.

At this point, I had not seen any of my old friends; those folks who attend the conference with me every year. In fact, I had not even seen Rebecca. She was off fighting crime, or committing crime, or something, but I took the free time to get a shower, and head up to the top of the Riviera where the reception was being held.

Once there, I saw my friends Jay and Pam, stuffing their faces, so I did likewise. The reception featured finger food and a cash bar, along with a pretty decent view of the Las Vegas night. Soon, other friends filtered by, and before I knew it, I had shaken hands with and hugged about 30 people.

But I couldn't stay to enjoy the finger food long, as I was scheduled to play in a poker tournament down in the casino; some of the proceeds were slated to go to the JREF, some went to the Riviera, the rest would find its way into the winners' pockets.

On my way out of the reception hall, I ran into my friend Melissa. She gave me a hug, and said, "You’re bald and cute."

I took that to be a very fine compliment, and I wound up saying it to several people over the span of the weekend. Some of them weren't even bald — or cute.

Anyway, I sat down for the poker tournament, and finally ran into Rebecca. She was in the tournament as well, but seated at another table. We hugged, sat down, and the cards went into play. I started out slow, but hit a couple big hands that earned me enough chips to make it to the final table.

At the final table, I was pretty much card dead, but I scrapped and scraped and held on to finish in 6th place. It was fun and for a good cause, so I had no complaints. Plus, I was free to head over to the bar where my friends were starting to heat up, so I really had no complaints.

At the bar, I saw Evelyn and Kelly, and Kelly ran up and gave me a big hug. I like big hugs from Kelly. I also met up with Simon, Mike, Ed, Jason, and several other guys. I don't like big hugs from them so much, although I got one from Jason.

The service at the bar was pretty slow, which was probably a good thing considering the double whiskeys I was drinking were 12 bucks apiece. Remember, I didn't win any money in the poker tournament, and if you're not gambling you have to pay for your drinks. At any rate, we didn't have to put up with the service for long, as another compadre informed us of a pub crawl taking shape. So we all gathered with several more people, and went acrawlin'. We were about 25 souls at this point, and the Las Vegas night awaited.

The first destination was the Peppermill lounge just next door to the hotel. It turned out to be the final destination for many of us as we realized we hadn't eaten all day, and instead of just drinking, got a table and ordered some food to go with our booze. My friend and conference speaker Phil Plait and I split the Peppermill's delicious Mountain o' Nachos. Now that's not the official name of the dish, but it is certainly appropriate. The thing was huge. Phil was sitting across from me, and when the waitress slid it onto the table it blocked him out, like an eclipse. A salt shaker got trapped in its gravitational pull and went into orbit around the massive pile of gooey chips. I had to hire a Sherpa to get me some of the guacamole that was on top.

At any rate, the night progressed relatively slowly for a Vegas night out. But that was kind of a good thing. It gave us all an opportunity to relax and get caught up with folks we hadn't seen in a year. It was a chill evening to say the least, and when Phil and I had recited every line from the movie Top Secret to the point where Rebecca threatened to karate chop us in the Adam's apple, we knew it was time to scram. From the Peppermill we walked back to the Riviera, and turned in. I was out cold on my first night in Vegas by 2am.

But the conference was scheduled to start early the next morning.

Stay tuned for the next post about TAM and my Vegas weekend.