the annual february las vegas pilgrammage turned out to be relatively pain free. i managed to avoid getting sick (last year spent 4 of the 7 days holed up in my hotel room with the most miserable cold/flu i can recall having), avoided drama (with this many co-workers in town, it seems there is always drama), visited the zombie apocalypse store (which was a little disappointing) and spent time with some of my favorite co-workers and colleagues.
since a couple of our crew had never been to las vegas before, i played tour guide and showed them around some of my favorite strip-spots, including dim sum at the palazzo and the bellagio fountains.
however, by far the most dramatic turn of events happened about 5 minutes and 2 stop lights from me, and for several hours, i had no idea.
during a layover in dallas on my way from vegas to columbus, the news and the random overheard snippets of airport conversation were singularly focused on the events of the morning. at about 4:30am, while i was on my way to the airport, there was a vehicular shoot out on the strip which resulted in an exploding taxi and left 3 dead. and i had been close. very close. scary close.
not even a week before, after shootings reasonably close to my california home, i received a number of messages from family and friends wanting to make sure i was okay. my response? "totally fine! i'm in vegas!". needless to say, i'm glad those did not become 'famous last words'.
i've experienced what i suspect is an above average amount of 'nearness' to crime sprees, shootouts, live munition detonations, and other downright unsafe situations, and while i don't mean to be over dramatic about it (after all, i'm totally fine), this one left me a little rattled. i was grateful to be putting vegas in the rear view, having had an unexpectedly successful visit to my least favorite city.
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