Vegas Bound!
Yes! My honey and I are off! Not yet, exactly. I’m sitting at the computer typing. But later this morning we are ditching the brats and hitting the open road. We are heading for Vegas, back to where our little marriage shindig began more than 17 years ago.
That’s right, we are a Vegas couple. For about $100 and two nights lodging at a now defunct hotel/casino, we got hitched. No family, no friends, no caterer, no ugly brides maid dresses. It was me, my girl (she had been getting sick every morning for a couple of months – hmm?? What was that all about?), and an oddly fitting pair of white slacks and jacket that made me look like Leisure Suit Larry (you’d have to remember that old game).
The Candlelight Wedding Chapel provided the backdrop. Jim Hamilton married us with a chapel staff member serving as the witness. Jim, as it turns out, is quite the personality. If you saw Honeymoon in Vegas with Nicolas Cage and Sarah Jessica Parker, Jim makes an appearance at the end of the movie – actually marrying Nick and Sara in a chapel full of skydiving Elvis impersonators. Laura and I were in the theatre watching the movie and when Jim showed up, we felt like we knew a star.
He is actually listed in the cast here:
http://movies.msn.com/movies/movie.aspx?m=369663&mp=c
Another couple was getting married right before us – and another right after us – quite the assembly line. We kept seeing that couple, the one married before us, over the course of the night – at dinner and then at a comedy club. Each time we waved and giggled like we were part of some secret society. The society of knocked up girlfriends and misguided youth.
Now we are seventeen years into this thing and I think I like her! My wife, I mean.
We were in Vegas a few years ago with all four kids and stopped by to take a picture with Jim. Yes, he is still there – The Candlelight Wedding Chapel across from Circus Circus. It is odd because the chapel is actually pretty but it sits at the end of a strip mall and big souvenir store. It is so Vegas it is frightening!
http://www.candlelightchapel.com/index.htm
The picture on their homepage is carefully cropped but the parking lot/souvenir shop is just to the left of the picture and the Riveria on the right. I’m not knocking them, it was a good time.
In fact, Elizabeth Taylor was married there once – of course, one might be hard-pressed to find a place she wasn’t married.
Now I am back in Vegas to speak at a conference for the parent company of my publisher. This should be fun! As you have read, I’ve been in Cleveland with them, in New Orleans a few weeks ago, and now this. In another week, I am Boston bound!
After the pink Jordache garment bag incident (read about Cleveland in earlier entries), I am glad I am taking my wife. I am sure the Prentice Hall folks have wondered about my “flamboyance” at their events. This is perfect cover – uh, I mean, validation of my strong heterosexual alignment. I mean, she’s a good-lookin’ broad, this wife of mine. I know, I color her hair!
Matt, what about the head in the pickle jar?
Oh yeah, let's get to it.
With all the Terri Shiavo stuff rolling around the news (don’t do it Matt, don’t get political), we had a conversation with our children about end of life wishes. Both Laura and I don’t want to be “fed” if we are in a PVS. PVS for those who haven’t been listening to TV or radio is another acronym. Coming from a tech background and with the Internet, these have become quite popular. Persistent (corrected from Permanent) Vegetative State (PVS).
We, as with almost everyone, have our opinions on the latest news and events but took this introspective time to let our wishes be known with our kids.
My wife and I both agree, no PVS for us. We both agree, organs donated. My wife, cremated. I want to be cremated too but not my head. I told my kids I want them to keep my head in a pickle jar. It is a great conversation piece. They can transfer it seasonally to each of their homes. That is the great thing about four kids. Four kids, four seasons, one head in a pickle jar.
"Nice place you have here. Where did you get that couch – Ethan Allen, nice. Oh, what is that on the mantle?"
"That’s my dad’s head in a pickle jar. He wanted to be passed on to future generations."
"Wouldn’t a picture have been simpler?"
"Well, my Dad felt he wasn’t very photogenic."
"He still isn’t."
The fact is, we are hoping our deaths are not imminent. We just hope the fear and anxiety of the potential keeps our kids from fighting this weekend while we are gone. We are hopeful but not optimistically so.
We’ve even told them they could have a party – two kegs, even illicit drugs, our treat – if we don’t get the predictable phone calls. Yes calls, multiple. Each fighting incident involves multiple calls. That’s the problem with cell phones for each teenager. That provides three phones in the house – the home phone and each cell phone.
We’ve actually had it happen where I am on the phone with Jessica, Matt is calling on the other line, and Christopher and Sara, our babies are calling Mom on the home phone. I’m switching back and forth getting Jessica’s story and then Matt’s story and asking about those items Laura is feeding to me from Chris and Sara. There is no mediating between them in these cases. More often than not, we just put them on mute and carry on our conversation. If we hear a pause or scream, we interject a hearfelt - "stop it." or "listen to your brother."
Basically, cellular technology extends dysfunction. Geography is no longer an issue. It used to be that parents had to come home and simply pick up the pieces. Now they have to be involved. It is a burden that is not really fair. Fortunately, we signed up for the “family fight” plan. That means we don’t get charged for bickering between our cell phones. Our kids can call us repeatedly – again and again and again and again – about the same infraction. We don’t get charged to hear that Jessica looked at Chris wrong or that Matt is being a jerk and sent everyone to their rooms. Matt likes sending them to their rooms because that was our trump authority that we’ve given him.
There are two things we need to add to this situation, however.
The first is sound-proofing the rooms. When our kids fight, sending them to their rooms only means that they have to yell through the house to fight. Even though Chris is downstairs and Jessica is upstairs, they can still effectively trade barbs. Maybe an added intercom between their rooms would be in order.
The other thing they should add to cell phones is a master shocker! The owner of the cell phone account and any assigned roles, should have the ability to send an electronic shock to any of the other cell phones. That way, when we are trying to get a word in edge wise but the words, “but she said” or “but he said” or “you don’t understand” (we virtually never understand), keep interrupting us, we can send an arcing jolt of electricity from the earpiece to their ear!
I’m not sure it would stop their talking but boy would it be fun.
Okay, I have to go pack! See you in Vegas.
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