Las Vegas. Or, as my quasi-husband Alex refers to it, Lost Wages. Though we hope to define is differently for ourselves this year. I've been here for 4 solid days now, and yet I don't feel like I've landed. This is a tough town to take seriously, you know? Flashing neon signs advertising Loose Slots and Looser Ladies, gambling in gas stations, and one buffet for every 10 residents. I live here? People shouldn't live in a place like this; they should just stop by for a few days of hedonism and escapism. And yet, I'll be calling this place HOME for the next 6-8 months. I gave up the keys to my lovely upper-west-side-NYC apartment a week and a half ago, put all my furniture in storage at my sister-in-law's Jersey basement, then loaded up my Buick with the basic necessities (gold stilettos are a necessity in this town, after all) and headed west with Alex, She-ra the wonder cat, and a very fuzzy idea of what the hell I'd like to do with myself out here in the desert. Very fuzzy, indeed. I'd like to get onstage. Somewhere. Somehow. With my clothes on.
But first, I have to get grounded. So, I'm spending some quality time in my new apartment, marvelling at the way people live outside of Manhattan. I mean, I have a dishwasher! And laundry IN MY APARTMENT! Sure, many people consider these to be standard home goods. Many people also consider a monthly rent of $2400 enough for a few bedrooms, a yard, perhaps a live-in masseuse. My $2400 in Manhattan got me a lovely one-bedroom with broken hardwood floors, windows that could drop out of the frames at any moment, walls that crumbled if I stuck up a post-it note, light fixtures that hung by wires, an elevator that had me considering religion each time I used it. Don't get me wrong, I LOVED that apartment. Mostly, I loved the neighborhood. 3 blocks to Central Park, 2 blocks to the Hudson River, and an extravagantly priced foodmart on any corner. It was tough to walk away from it. Except that I could no longer afford to live there, which made it easier.
And now, for less than half what I paid for my pre-war crumbler, I've got a nicely furnished one-bedroom with ceiling fans and central air and a balcony and a fireplace (yes, it does get cold in Vegas in the winter) and marble countertops and cable tv (another first for my adulthood). There's a pool and hottub on the grounds, groundskeepers to prune the palm trees. I mean...WOW. I feel like a real grown-up here! This is, by far, the nicest apartment I've lived in. The neighborhood...well, the "neighborhood" is a big switch from the upper west. The location is good, a 5-10 minute walk down Flamingo to The Strip (for those of you who are familiar with Vegas, we're west of Strip, a block from The Palms, so I've got the Playboy Bunny winking at me every night). But it's not really a neighborhood. For one thing, I'm living in an extended-stay hotel, basically. Whole long story to that, but the complex is called The Desert Tides, and a few units are privately owned (we're renting one of those) while the rest are managed and maintenanced as hotel rooms. It's surrounded by empty lots, which may someday become parking lots, who knows. Sure, I've got the bright lights of the Rio lighting up the night sky. But as someone who considers walking to be key to life...this isn't a walking town. At all. Nor is it a biking town. Okay, sure, it's 110 degrees out now, so neither of those activities is currently appealing to me. But on an average week in NYC, I walked a good 20-30 miles (not during my Columbia days, of course). When I lived in Seattle, I walked everywhere, unless I was on my bike. Even in LA, I was braving the roads on my bike. But Vegas is just not conducive to these activities. Not to say I won't be giving it a shot. But it's definitely the biggest lifestyle change I'm gonna have to figure out.
Good stuff: my incredibly persnickety cat is adjusting quite well. The day we left New York, she peed in one of my bags (thanks, cat). But since then, she's been pretty mellow. Guess it comes with old age (she's been with me for 13 years now). Also, I am once again able to make Trader Joe's my main grocery provider. Been missing TJ's since leaving the west coast in 2003. And did I mention that I have cable? With HBO and Showtime? I am trying my best not to turn on the TV during daylight hours, otherwise I may accomplish nothing in this town.
So, here I am in my new hometown. I don't really know what to expect. But I'm excited! It's certainly an adventure, and I've been hankering for a change. And it will be nice to live with Alex for an entire year. We've been together for over 12 years now, which is probably why we were able to survive the last 3 years living on separate coasts for more than half the time (yes, I consider Vegas to be on the west coast, even though there is no water to be seen for hundreds of miles, except for Lake Mead and the Hoover Dam, but it's only about a 4-hour drive to the Pacific, so here I am, back on the west coast). But it hasn't been easy. And Alex has spent his Vegas time shacking up with too many men in too small spaces, men with names like Barndog and Hizzle, Goose and Chaperone. He's thrilled to have his family here in his town, and I'm thrilled to be with him.
I'm gonna use this blog to keep people up-to-date on what the hell I'm doing with myself, and I'm gonna use it to figure it out myself. Here's hoping for many reasons for you to check in!
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