Coo Coo Ka-choo

What amazes me about Vegas is that people actually save up their money to take a vacation there. After not visiting for 11 years, I had an amazingly fun weekend mainly due to the company, but sheesh--the place is nothing but morbidly depressing. Chock full of chain store EVERYTHING, idiotic and ugly people treating the plane ride like a spring break trip to Daytona, readily available vices that will cause you to slit your wrists and the most shallow forms of entertainment imaginable, I thought most of it was a joke, but am not sure 90% of visitors do. I was fascinated by all the stand-up comics on their third lives (Rita Rudner?), and the celebrity impersonators, where no one ever dies or leaves: Barbra, Frank, 3 kinds of Elvis, The Beatles, the Rat Pack and yes, even a John Denver. I can't imagine paying to see some of this crap, much less searching it out.

The Wynn was gorgeous, and had the most beautiful Sports Book I've ever seen, and really, what's not to like about 3500 square feet of bettable sports on TV? (Thoughtfully provided Sports Books allowed me to drop a pile on the Florida Derby by only betting off the morning line odds and memory. Der.) One hilarious misfire: a visit to the Star Trek bar in the Hilton, where Tommy's enthusiasm from his last visit had me totally convinced that a smoking fish bowl containing about a gallon of pink god-knows-what-kind-of-liquor while sitting next to a mean female Klingon was a great idea.

That said, it is tough to beat sitting by the pool for two days with frozen drinks and periodic rides down the water slide; ghetto 2 AM under-the-influence blackjack at The Golden Gate with two of my best girls; seeing Anne marry a good fella she truly loves; lots of quality time with the crowd I have the greatest comfort levels with; and running around with six unambiguous under-30-friends- of-the-groom until all hours with true Mrs. Robinson style. Got it: rejuvenation.