Don't tell the redneck he's an alien and the weekly jogger report

Don’t tell the redneck he’s an alien and the weekly jogger report | April 29, 2012

Sometimes the people who find themselves in the Hangover movie paradigm are real issue babies, problem children who probably deserve the scorn you are heaping on them as you read this and little of the envy you may feel when you think about it.

Just so there is no doubt
The Lifestyle
Like the one gentleman a few months ago who stumbled into a local hotel three days after the event he was supposed to be in left town and or the one who crawled into another person’s bed in the wrong hotel and few months after that.
Sometimes they are just ordinary people who found themselves in the one city where they won’t ( did you know wont and aint  are officially proper English now hmm) be judged any harsher than any other hedonist in a town full of them and got in over the heads.
Like the woman whose friends ditched her when he was stone drunk and left her not knowing where her room was, her purse was or the room key she was supposed to have was or the medicine or money she left in the purse was or why she slept in her car the entire night etc etc etc ….
A hint to all you coming to Vegas if you are going to ditch your friend in Vegas make sure they are dozing in the right room in the right bed with the right person  with all their stuff before you leave them its just the right thing to do. It is part of the hedonist code..I think …..
Also this week …..I consider myself to be a calm person not one prone to silly belligerence and quite frankly I am too freakin old to be busting knuckles for the sake of …well anything ….but there are times when it seems the right thing to do.
Arrrgggggggghhhhh
This week I had to tell a cab driver he couldn’t do something. I wont go into detail because its  a workplace policy but this is _ what happened. I had a cab drive up to someplace he wasn’t supposed to be and I had to tell him he couldn’t do,  something he most likely he wasn’t supposed to do.
First this idiot mumbles something I can’t understand and when I get tired of trying to figure out what he is trying to tell me with his Monte Python routine “nudge, nudge, wink wink..you know what I mean ,” no I really don’t dude you cant pick up or drop off here….
Then this genius says no dumb ass I mean …well those of you who understand what it means to work with such people will understand when I tell you I stopped listening right there and told him to move his ass more or less and when he continued to make veiled threats I said either get out of the cab or get out of the garage.
Jmore to the point he said something about “No speakie English,” or some red neck BS.
Just for the record in case I haven’t made it clear I am 50-year old white guy  from Texas with what is quite literally an Anglo Saxon surname. I was born in a town that might accurately be called a modern day Mayberry. You just don’t get any more white bread than me and my family.
I mean I’m so white when I was younger  Ronald Reagan once called me a honkie mo fo. You honkie mo fos are always trying to keep the out of touch middle aged white guy down…
No really  I never met Reagan but when I worked at that newspaper in Texas I once paid a young man musician to help me be cool and have soul.
He took one look at me handed me my money back and said man I cant cure the rain ( see colorful southerner vernacular.

           The new Las Vegas motto–photos by Royal
The point is if you are trying to do something you are not supposed to do and have to ask to do it don’t mumble and don’t tell the red neck security guard you think he is an illegal alien.
This weeks jogger report:
I have always been of the opinion that if you want to look at yourself in the mirror and admire what you see try your bedroom or someone else’s bedroom or the bathroom of whatever useless trendy restaurant you want to overpay for mashed potatoes in.
Jogging past the slightly reflective doors of an older Las Vegas casino staring at your image in the somewhat reflective length of glass at its Las Vegas Boulevard entrance is not cool and its kind of weird. Even if you are minor celebrity and if you happen to be just short of a heart attack stop jogging. There are no security guards on Las Vegas Boulevard to call an ambulance for you if you go unconscious and stop breathing. You are going to die as people fumble for their cell phones and take pictures of you for their facebook page.
Man up strange looking dude with clothes from an I love the 80s garage sale and tell your wife you have to stop jogging or your going to fall on the ground. Woman up chick with the Kurt Cobain ensemble jogging suit and tell your jock boyfriend with the crew cut and the triathlon T-shirt you cant breathe.
Get a clue drunk guy who clearly doesn’t recognize what city he is in. Pretending to jog because you realize you look weird walking around in a pair of someone else’s female jogging shorts and an unbuttoned $3,000 Armani shirt doesn’t really fool anybody here and more importantly no one here cares.
Just ask the guy who stood at the corner of Flamingo and Pecos in a huge straw hat, long sleeve ladies western wear button up embroidered shorts with pink trim and floppy sandals…..boring and yawn…
Such is life in the City of Sin
Til Next Week
Take Care