LAS VEGAS – The boys got together again in Las Vegas last week for our annual gathering of guys who’ve been friends since junior high.
None of us have added any new gray hair. If anything, some have lost a little more hair. We’re a little gigglier around the waist and our gaits are slower and shorter.
The most notable thing is nobody can hear anymore. We can have six stories simultaneously, and nobody can listen to them.
And yet, we had a great time.
When we went to dinner to escape the lather of the first-round NCAA Men’s Basketball Tournament, we talked about old times, particularly traveling for our jobs and Las Vegas.
Most of us spend much time on the road for a living. I covered sporting events – more than 40 years of NASCAR, NBA, NFL, college basketball and football, Dan Spoone with the National Retinitis Pigmentosa and National Association of the Blind, Tom Weidl as a business owner, Dan Weidl and Mike Nostro for a company that supplied chemicals to cities and counties that offset deadly gases in sewage and Lou Nostro who does legal and accounting work, so we have decades of traveling experience.
The first thing I remembered was that we all had forgotten the days when we woke up and found the daily newspaper at our doorstep.
I can remember being invited to free “happy hours” when I checked in, or being allowed to help myself to soft drinks, snacks, beer or wine.
Suddenly, we remembered other disappearing tradeoffs from being separated from our families and paying someone the equivalent of a car payment for a bed, a shower, a door that locks and air conditioning.
At this year’s Rolex 24 at Daytona last January, my hotel offered complimentary breakfast. It was a loaf of bread and a toaster, and there wasn’t any butter or jelly. That’s it. The television didn’t work, and I had to park at the hotel next door because there weren’t any open spots.
Somebody in our group remembered when you didn’t have to pay to park at your hotel. I spent more on parking at my hotel in New Orleans last year than for any hotel during my first year covering NASCAR on the road.
Most hotels in Las Vegas charge a “service charge” when you check-in. When you ask why there is a service charge, they say it’s for service. Isn’t that why you pay for your hotel? They also ask if you want housekeeping or if you want fresh towels.
Here’s a true story on our first night in Las Vegas: Mike and I shared a room. The next morning, I went to the room shortly after lunch to take a break, and housekeeping had already been to our room.
Only one problem: They forgot to make my bed. Mike’s bed was made. We had fresh towels. The garbage cans were emptied. The floors were swept. But my bed was a mess. How does that happen?
Based on what happened at various table games in the casino that day, that was the best thing that happened to me all day. Maybe I should have taken that as a hint, because the ATM was the only machine that paid off.
On the flip side, we remembered that being a bellman was a job that made good tips. Now that every suitcase has wheels, you wonder how they make a living.
It wasn’t that long ago when Vegas acted like it appreciated your business. They gave you two drink coupons if you made a $500 bet in the sports book. They treat you to dinner if you bet $25 a hand at blackjack for an hour. Now, you can make a $1,000 bet on a game, and they don’t even blink. If you play $500 a hand at the Pai Gow table for three hours, they’ll check with the computer to see if you qualify for the $4.99 steak and eggs midnight special at the coffee shop.
The reason is simple: They don’t have to give away freebies. The demand far outweighs the supply. The tables are filled, and the room counts are up. People headed to Sin City don’t get economic information from cable television news. Money at Las Vegas is like a roach motel: it checks in and doesn’t check out.
Our eighth-grade March Madness group doesn’t go to Vegas to win money or compare services of today or days gone by. It wasn’t about teams covering the point spread or whether a point total went over or under. (Actually, the other guys did because they are rabid Florida Gators fans).
We came to continue a tradition we hope continues for years. It’s rare to have friends like we’ve been, so when you’re as lucky as we are, you celebrate the moments.
Until next year…
