Achilles’ Heel No More
My Two Cents
Every year Las Vegas BikeFest comes knocking on my door. While I’m amped to see the cool custom bikes from around the country at the Artistry in Iron show, or the multiple parts vendors displaying new products that might be useful for you consumers out there, there’s one thing lurking in the back of my mind: am I going to make it home alive?
Having been conditioned that Vegas is no place to give in to temptation, I did things a bit differently this year. Even though I love to gamble, I’ve accepted the fact I’m horrible at it. I can’t seem to apply Kenny Rogers’ precious advice either. Once I’m up, of course I can always win more. After I lose the farm and fall deep into the depths of financial crisis there’s the opportunity to win it all back, right? This is never the case. The allure of hitting the jackpot isn’t there anymore. That’s freeing.
The other issue—and my other Vegas vice that has always chewed me up and spit me out into the gutter—is there is never a shortage of booze. I’ve woken up so many times not knowing what the hell happened the night before because the beer and spirits flowed freely. However, tequila shots never entered the picture, and I didn’t have to deal with that depressing feeling of wanting to die because I’d force-fed my liver copious amounts of liquid poison. Maybe things just change with time.
Instead of worrying about the horrible plane ride home because I just blew my savings on a pipe dream, or suffering from borderline alcohol poisoning, I decided to take that incredibly dark, depressing scenario out of the equation altogether. It was more fun to enjoy the company of friends on Fremont Street, and talk with vendors at the Cashman Center—the Las Vegas BikeFest venue—about their latest and greatest. It’s nice to be able to remember who you met, and the events that transpired throughout the weekend. God knows that’s never been the case before.
Bye for now…