And here it is. My last day in Vegas. The day that seemed lifetimes away only a few weeks ago. The day that I've been longing for since...well, since about the time I showed up last September. No, no, that's not true. When I first arrived, I was full of hope and ambition and determination to figure out where I might fit in this City o' Sin. And the first two people I met here, Jess the Chanteuse and Vina the Mail-Keeper, are two of the finest people I have had the chance to know in my life. The first band I saw here, Santa Fe & The Fat City Horns, put on one of the best live shows I've ever seen. My first dance partner at said show, Lloyd, showed me that music can keep a person young well beyond his or her years (Lloyd must be around 75 or 80, and during a 90 minute show, he is on his feet dancing for at least 60 of them minutes). My first audition was one of the nicest audition experiences I've had in the last decade or so. All in all, my first month in Vegas was pretty damn cool.
And then October rolled around.
Vegas has a way of offering the best while handing over the worst. It has a way of turning some shiny gem into some tarnished junk. Vegas offers glamour and glitz while doling out longing and loss. It shows you beauty all along the Boulevard while hiding the ugliness of the off-ramps. It promises Fun & Fantasy but leaves you with Regret and Reality, a vicious and blinding Reality, one that swallows entire homeward-bound planeloads of people who understand that What Happens in Vegas Doesn't Always Stay In Vegas. No, that debt goes home with them, along with the headaches, hangovers, and hard-to-remember bits. Not to say that there aren't oodles of humans having fun in this town. Hell, this is Fun City!! Except...it's also Foreclosure City and High School Dropout City and Casino-run Justice City.
But it is no longer My City. Not that it ever was. I never found my place here. In 10+ months, I haven't dropped a single dollar on a blackjack table nor stuffed a buck in a g-string nor tasted a drop of alcohol. And this city revolves around such activities. Really, the only thing here that made sense to me was the music scene. The music I experienced here was amazing, and I once again felt in-the-right in calling myself a Singer, a word I haven't used to describe myself in far too many years. The phrases "I sing" and "I am a Singer" are worlds apart, and I thank Vegas for helping my find my way from one to the other. I thank Jess for that, as she helped me rediscover my voice and my most basic need to use it. She introduced me to musicians who taught me about the business (which is not a great business to be in these days, not in this town) and let me get onstage with them to sing. And then I met this piano player who wanted to put together a duo with a girl singer, and it looked like maybe my lounge-singer dreams might take flight. Diva Las Vegas!!
But in true Vegas fashion, after months of rehearsal and hours of prep-work on my part, I got dumped by my piano player. Last week. Via email.
Yes, Vegas holds out the shiny goods then snatches 'em away once you've decided to GO FOR IT, once you've rearranged your life in order to accommodate it's needs. Alex worked round-the-clock, 7 days a week in this town, then had to spend 7 months and thousands of dollars defending himself against false arrest and trumped-up charges brought against him in a successful attempt at intimidation. We were set to move to Seattle on March 1 until I met this piano player 5 days before Moving Day, and months later (plus this 6-week, return-trip to Vegas for the sole purpose of finishing what we couldn't finish because the piano man had a last-minute, 2-month gig that he took in April), I get the blow-off because he doesn't like rehearsing and is really better off as a solo. That's Vegas: Land of the Duped, Home of the Dumped.
And so, we're outta here. But we go not with a whimper, oh no! Over the years, this town has provided much in the way of free food, free rooms, free everything. Once upon a time, Alex had big pull in Vegas. He could make a phone call to any number of casinos and get comped. And we took advantage of it in a big way. Then that arrest happened, and his juice pretty much dried up. No more rooms, few free meals. But being who he is, he's still got connections. So last night, as we wondered what to do with our last night in Vegas (we're leaving at the crack of dawn tomorrow, so tonite doesn't count), Alex made a call and got us box seats at the Pearl (inside the Palms) to see (ohmygod it's sooooo good I can hardly believe it) DURAN DURAN!! And they were AWESOME!!! 4 of the original 5 band members were onstage (with a new guitarist, a sax player, and a super-hot lady backup singer), and they put on a helluva show. John Taylor, DD's bassist, was my second childhood crush (after Rick Springfield), and that crush lasted for years. Last night, as they were playing "Planet Earth" and John was smiling into the crowd, I realized that my schoolgirl crush lives on. Alex and I were singing along to almost all of the songs (some were new to us both), and our seats were right near the stage, allowing us to see every performance detail. The songs seamlessly flowed from one to the next, Simon Le Bon's voice was pitch-perfect and clear, Roger Taylor's drumming was pounding in my chest, and Nick Rhodes (looking just as sad and sweet as ever) produced entire orchestral movements on his keyboards. The crowd was older, certainly older than the last show we saw at the Pearl (Fall Out Boy, my brother's boy band, whose crowd was 90% teenage girls), but they were rockin' out, especially during the encore, which was a medley of some of their classic hits. It was a beautiful reminder that Life Goes On, and you never know where it might take you. I mean, these guys are what, 50 years old? And they've lived some crazy lives, I'm sure. But here they were, in 2009, playing music together and clearly thrilled to be doing so. And me and my man, we were rockin' along with them, loving every second of our last night in Vegas.
And so we leave Las Vegas, not whimpering, not a la Nic Cage, but rockin' out, looking forward to the adventures ahead. This water-baby is saying goodbye to the desert and returning to the Atlantic coast. I truly have no idea what the future may hold, but I'm excited to find out. And now that this time in Vegas is at it's end, I am thankful for it. It has taught me a lot about myself and the world I live in. It brought my long-term partnership with Alex to new levels of commitment and reward. It reminded me that I cannot live without art, without being the artist I am meant to be. It brought unimagined challenges that forced me to get tough and stay empathetic (I think empathy is a good thing, no matter what those Congressmen say). Plus, I got to be here as a red state turned blue, SWEET! I wouldn't want to repeat this year, not for a million bucks. But, I have not a single regret. So I come out a winner. Now I just have to figure out how to turn it all into a one-woman show.
It's time to finish packing and load the car and GET THE HELL OUT OF THIS GODFORSAKEN DESERT!! We're on the road at sun-up, should be reaching the east coast by Thursday. First, we've got to get through Arizona and New Mexico and Texas and Oklahoma and...
And if you're still reading this, thank you. I can't tell you how much it means to me to be able to share this with you. The writing shall continue, tho I suppose the name of the blog should change. A water-baby in Jersey City? I'll work on it.
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