I Left My Smoking Habit in Vegas
And a Bunch of Money. And My Phone-Charger.
We saw the “Bodies” exhibit in Vegas, which is basically a bunch of body parts and well-arranged cadavers. I saw one long-fingernailed lady poking them. That exhibition was probably the least Vegasy thing we did. The most Vegasy activities include: drinking champagne and OJ at 11 a.m; smoking everywhere; putting money into “loose slots”; watching an Elvis impersonator.
But “Bodies” was sobering. Hardened arteries, swollen livers, blackened lungs, enlarged, dingy hearts. There was certainly a message there. So as I smoked my way out of that hotel knowing Vegas would be my habit’s last stand, I felt pretty good about my decision. Today, not so much. It’s the shakes, the grumpiness, the sudden bouts of swirly vertigo.
The thing is every smoker knows that smokes kill people. It’s the same way the rest of you know that Big Mac isn’t good for you or wearing high heels is hard on your feet. So please, you righteous non- and never-smokers. Stop telling us about it. We know. We get it. We’re trying. Cigarettes are just so good sometimes. That’s something a never-smoker doesn’t understand.
Here’s to hoping it takes this time.
The other thing I learned in Vegas was not to eat at the $7.77 buffet. I’ll stop there. But trust me. Also, the public restrooms at the Golden Spike are horrifying. And there’s no such thing as a “loose slot.”
As yet another side note, there was an awesome exhibition called “Alternative Bodies,” about transgendered people. One thing we did notice about the original “Bodies” was that almost all of the subjects were dudes arranged in American sports poses. I guess when you’re looking at something as universal as human anatomy, it’s more poignant when it’s culturally blind or sexist.