karma and chicken

This last weekend I lost my Vegas virginity. Despite having lived in California for about 93.5% of my life, I'd never before been to Las Vegas. To some, this admission was met with incredulity or scorn; to others, it was a mark of good sense or prudishness. In any case, I went to help my friend scout out potential wedding ceremony sites. We spent about 45 hours (less than 6 of which were spent asleep) running around town, up and down The Strip, doing some gambing, eating, shopping...it was all craziness, but enjoyable purely because it was so very different from what I do from day to day. It is hard to believe that so many people go there so often, as it surely wouldn't be my first choice for a vacation destination and I am clearly not cut out to be a big-time gambler (On my first and only previous Roulette experience, 27 had been my lucky number; this time, I played for about 3.5 hours and 27 didn't "hit" once. Not a single time.). "Ostentation" was the word that kept coming to mind, along with Elvis' ghastly "Viva Las Vegas" song. Ugh.

Utterly exhausted and mind-numbed from the trip, immediately I drove from the airport to home, to shower and take a nap before attempting to go to the laboratory. After a bit of work, I faced a rainy drive home to an empty fridge, so I stopped for chicken at Popeye's (an occasional indulgence). A homeless man silently opened the door for me when I approached, and while waiting for my dinner I noticed he opened the door for all the patrons coming and going, never saying a word. Seized by a sudden need to purge my Vegas weekend, I decided to give him a dollar when I left. When I saw my order come up, I realized that they had screwed up my order (giving me more than I'd planned to eat). So when I approached the door and the man opened the door for me, I gave him the dollar and then the food. I smiled and started to walk away, and I saw a pathetically stunned look on his face, a look that I would have branded as sarcastic on a less needy person. But his surprise seemed genuine; I was surprised even more when as I turned to go to my car I saw out of the corner of my eye that he was reaching towards me, arms outstretched, clearly wanting to give me a hug. I returned the gesture, caught in an embrace so tight I felt I'd have bruises on my shoulderblades from the pressure of his grip. I admit I had a moment of fear as I stood there helplessly caught, but I heard him whisper "thank you, thank you" over and over again until I patted his back and wished him good luck, pulling back and rushing out into the drizzle to reach my car. I was unnerved more by the genuine strength of his gratitude than anything, and I found myself thinking of how much more I could have given him and how that brief moment juxtaposed with the excess of Las Vegas...it was hard to believe that lives differ so greatly only 600 miles apart.