The Dork hits Vegas

In the morning I'm flying to Las Vegas to attend a "conference," which apparently is some sort of pseudonym for "I'm going to gamble my life saving's away and wake up married to the waitress of a local diner."

I actually am attending a conference, but I suspect that it'll be a big challenge trying to resist skipping the whole thing so I can see repeated performances by Celine Dion and Wayne Newton. I could get a lifetime's supply of overperformed pop music and cheesy lounge tunes in three whole days. And while I'm at it I'll get my fill of neon and drunk people.

The truth is, however, that this will be my first trip to Vegas. I've never been there, mostly because I don't gamble.

(Note: According to something I looked up on the Internet by myself, only 5 percent of people admit they go to Vegas to gamble, but 87 percent gamble while they're there. So if I succeed in not gambling I'll be in the distinct minority.)

The thing is, gambling scares the hell out of me. Don't get me wrong -- the prospect of winning large sums of money appeals to me. The problem is that I have to spend money for the chance of that happening. I'd be far happier if I just walked in the door and they showered me with heaping amounts of cash. Heck, I'd be thrilled with just a few mid-sized bills. (Perhaps, if I worked hard enough, I could convince somebody to pay me to stay out of their establishment by repeatedly yelling "I HAVE A BLOG AND I'M NOT AFRAID TO USE IT!" But the prospect of the owner using a few big, beefy guys to toss me out keeps that from being a viable option.)

So gambling is the only way I'll get large amounts of money, and I hate gambling because I'm risk-averse. I once drove all night with a friend of mine from college. He was a gambler, and we passed a casino on the way home. "Hey, want to stop by quick so I can throw away what little hard-earned money I have?" he asked.

"Uh, sure," I said. He was driving, after all, and I have a hard time saying no.

I had $5 on me. I used all of it on the slots, and won $0.

He went and played blackjack. After 30 minutes he was out $100.

Guess who was more upset? Me. Sure, $100 doesn't seem like much, but we were in college and neither of us would be what anybody would term "wealthy." $100 at the time WAS a lot of money. And as I was subsisting on deer meat and government cheese from a roommate's friend at the time, so was $5.

I HATED losing that $5. I kept thinking about the gas station burritos I was going to use that $5 on and it made me sad and grumpy -- and hungry. The memory of tossing that $5 out the window has stuck with me so much I've refused to go into a casino ever since.

Which of course would make Vegas an unlikely option for me, despite my love of Elvis and tiger-loving magicians.

The good news, I guess, is that come Wednesday night when I come home I'll likely have the same personal net worth that I had upon my arrival there -- unless, that is, I give into my intense obsession with Cirque du Soleil and blow it all on tickets. Must ... see ... people ... who ... bend in ... odd shapes!