Write Fright

11:00am- Walk into Book Passage in Corte Madera to attend 4-day Travel Writing workshop. So nervous, barf down front of shirt and pants and subsequently choke on the remainder.

6:13pm- Eat dinner at table with author, Michael Shapiro, and 5 co-participants. Sit next to older man who refers to himself as a troglodyte. Not having heard this word for epochs, am shocked when he produces club and bludgeons me for meat.

9:02pm- While watching writing legends Tim Cahill and Amy Tan discuss “Cultures in Transition” and how this topic relates to travel writing, realize I am squished into the furthest nook of a room packed with eager students. The only way out is to run screaming while stepping over bodies, or to break a thick glass with shoe. Opt for shoe/glass breaking and sever most major veins as well as arteries in the process. So much for bathroom breaks in this place.

Other than that, pretty good day.

Happy Deathday

7:04am- Am shocked to discover I have made it to another birthday. So shocked, it stops my heart.

8:19pm- Sweet boyfriend takes me to Le Colonial for dinner. Waiter fails to show in timely fashion to take order. Die of starvation while staring at delicious meals being served to surrounding diners.

Other than that, pretty good day.

I Never Made It To My 32nd Birthday

11:02pm- Getting so drunk at your birthday celebration that you start rolling around on Sadie’s Flying Elephant’s pool table gets you kicked out of the bar. Stumbling into the street to hail what you think is a cab, gets you hit by a car.

Other than that, pretty good day.

Wishy-washy Neighbor

Who washes their car out in the street at midnight on a Monday night? That’s right, my new neighbor. And who apparently doesn’t like to be confronted about it? If you said my new neighbor, right again.

Other than that, pretty good day.

Flesh Buffet

10:47am- Wake up with what I think is signature Vegas Hangover®. Turns out to be mass dehydration coupled with healthy dose of aneurysm. 11 o'clock check out time does nothing to save me.

11:49am- Meet friends at Mandalay Bay’s Bay Side Buffet. Sit next to freshly married couple and family having wedding reception. Attempt to sneak piece of wedding cake as part of my gluttonous champagne breakfeast. Am gored with cake knife by mother of bride.

2:02pm- Mesmerized by “Bodies – The Exhibition” at Tropicana. Having recently read Mary Roach’s “Stiff” about cadavers and plastination process, feel compelled to really get up in there and examine every muscle fiber and strand of sinew. Immersed in the experience, am distracted enough not to notice body snatcher come up behind me. Bound, gagged, and flayed for next day’s presentation.

4:19pm- Back at Desert Passage Shops, indulge in foot massage being offered by roving band of masseurs. Nervous foot specialist will only look at me askance. I realize too late he is fetishist/serial killer.

7:33pm- As I try talking myself into having calm takeoff, plane bursts into flames on runway.

Other than that, pretty good day.

What Happens In Vegas Is Still Prosecutable

12:13pm- Head to pool at Luxor to relax and drink beer with friends. Oasis completely crowded and full of beautifully lotioned scenesters. Sensing discord, they swiftly descend to eliminate imposter.

1:11pm- Sun stroke.

3:06pm- Drive downtown to scout out lower table limits. Enter daiquiri bar and come upon confrontation between management and customer who was given extra shot of rum and then expected to pay for it. Fight ensues. Caught in middle. Bludgeoned with plastic cowboy-boot-shaped daiquiri container.

4:14pm- Agree to couple’s lap dance at local strip club. First documented case of fatal crabs.

11:06pm- End up drunk at craps table with too high a limit. Lose money quickly. Am forced to mortgage house I don’t own and college money for kids I don’t have. See too clearly how gambling has consumed life. Take cab to Stratosphere and jump off tower to assuage guilt for tarnishing family honor.

Other than that, pretty good day.

Luck Be A Faithful Lady

9:12pm- Here I am on plane again. Pilot depressed because flight to Vegas reminds him of third wife who married him at famous Little White Chapel and who then promptly slept with best man, officiate, and ring bearer. As we descend into the decedent city, he nosedives plane in despair.

9:38pm- After dropping friends off at Luxor, attempt to drive down Strip to get to our own hotel. Traffic unbearable. After ½ hour barely any progress is made. Forced to kill and eat boyfriend for sustenance. Once his body is consumed and my urine store is depleted, waste away a block from Aladdin.

10:24pm- Once at Aladdin (soon to be Planet Hollywood), am forced to navigate through ridiculously expansive Desert Passage Shops en route to registration desk. Not knowing how much further to casino entrance, accept ride from pedi-cab driver. He assures us it is still far walk and then not 30 yards from where he picked us up, he stops, unloads bags and holds out hand awaiting $5 and tip. Incensed, refuse payment and am quickly mobbed and massacred by 8 men wearing billowy Bedouin genie pants.

11:02pm- Meet up with friends for dinner and drinks at Zanzibar Café. Portions so large, and drinks so strong, slip into hedonistic coma.

Other than that, pretty good day.