Hello From Vegas

(April 08, 2008)

Boy am I dusty! It's mere hours after I've landed in the desert and I already look like I've fallen off a dust truck.

I'm at NAB in Las Vegas. That's the National Association of Broadcasters, a gargantuan annual convention involving all things broadcasty.

Most of the grime isn't from the desert, per se -- it's from the Convention Center, which, while in convention set-up mode, resembles in size and noise a mid-sized university. I'm sitting splay-legged on the black show floor, making smalltalk with the lifesaving electrician who's installing our power. Pete. A portly fellow in dirty jeans who's doing things with wires I don't understand. I called him a Rock Star and he seemed to dig that.

He's a rock star because setting up a show like this is a whirlwind of sequential steps, and Electrical is a major one. This morning I got off the airport shuttle, stashed my bag at the hotel, then took a cab straight to the LVCC. First thing -- go get my registration badge. Second thing -- walk the three million feet of show floor to find the 30x40 foot block that's ours.

Found it.

No power cables or Cat-6 cables laid down yet. Those need to me laid down first before the carpet can go down, and the carpet must be laid before the gear gets moved in, which is happening tomorrow...

So upon calling the Gods of Electrical Installation and getting Pete, with his black wire wheely cart filled with wires and pluggy bits, it's quite heartwarming and, well, awesome.

I'm going to stick around here until six or so, then go find some food (oh man, wait'll I tell you what I ate on the plane) and then I'm going to try to find something so mundane as a Rite Aid, Brooks or Walgreens.

I bet those have slot machines in them too.

Can't turn around without seeing a slot machine.

This town is like someone's drug-induced illusion.