My cousin, D-, turned 21 last October, so, like a good 'big brother' (Filipino tradition/custom states a very unique nomination of titles to different familial relationships - D- is my uncle's daughter, so I am her 'Kuya' - big brother) took her to Sin City to party in style. My sister and her friend were enlisted to help out because, like a man with a family, my mojo has diminished to an uncomfortable level inappropriate for proper partying.
Tao is new to me. The same spot a few years ago at the Venetian was one of the last Warner Bros. stores in the country. Now, an ultra-swank Asian themed lounge/club is comfortably nestled in the same corner of the front lobby. I'm tired as I dress in a fall cord layered ensemble. I never had time to shave before the trip...so the scruffiness looks intentional. I'm a fiend.
The place had the usual crowd shifting in front of it. Lots of young folks looking around eagerly. It's pretty annoying to me, I've always found it unnecessary effort - it makes one look desperate. Par for Vegas, the bouncers were the best dressed folks in the front. Luckily, I'm with three beautiful girls and I'm not sweating getting in. $20 bucks for everyone.
Tao is adorned with Buddahs everywhere and candles - a look I really like. Red and smoke and blacks - if they had wood accents here and there, I would have found it more interesting (there is some, but not impactful enough). The clientle is young and hot. The place is packed. I don't even remember what I ordered first. But I know I'm taking it easy, since I'm already dragging after a normal work week and the three hour drive which included a stop by the California CHP, who was working hard to maintain the 1 billion a year in traffic tickets they had out. Can I get a tax deduction on this? I'm betting not.
We get the drinks and I'm feeling that D- is overwhelmed. Good. Vegas has the best clubs in the country, it's overwhelming. I took my sister to 54 on her birthday and she felt she 'graduated' from the experience. She nursed her drink against a statue. I watched some guy walk up a grope a girl on one of the stands set up for exhibitionist young lassies. I'm not amazed, but I still find it odd that a woman will let any idiot come up and touch them. Personally, I'm a bit more respectful.
I find a column to stand against, right between the bar and the dance floor and chill. We danced a little, the DJ kinda stunk that night - the paid dancers showing their disapproval now and again. The music was that mindless rap junk that has made its way out since Jay-Z stepped down. Whatever. A guy who looked strangely like John Favreau came up to me and said that he was glad to see me again. I'm all question marks. Ok. Another girl look just like Kelly Cuoco, and I mouthed the words 'Wow', because she was the hottest chick in the room...not because she's a celebrity (trust me, I could give a shit).
The beginning of a two day epiphany happened as things slowed down for me that night. The Mirage sparkled across the way from the full windowed walls in front of me. From the position I was in, it looked like 'Rage'. I was fixiated. The cold stillness of my tired body was stirred and I must have stared at it for ten minutes. "Rage" sparkled above the disgusting parade of decadence and gyrating flesh. Fascinating juxtoposition. It stayed with me until just before lunch at the Parisian buffet the next day.
"Not my world," the giant black bouncer watching the dance floor and I looked at eachother a few times through the night. I believe he felt I had a curious look on my face. I wasn't hungry for drinks, dance or attempting to stick my junk in some chick. I was a fly on the wall and I looked like it. Buzz buzz.
I asked to leave early and my sister said they would take a cab back to the hotel. "Sorry" I say. I'm just too damn tired. Work, kids, projects, house, life is like a giant shifting puzzle in my head. I promise to take a break one of the days.
Shower, pajamas and a sleeping bag and I am out for the count. However, the rage has already planted its seed.
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