Tag Archives: Las Vegas

Fleeting Vision (Spilotro P2)

Pinpoints of light began to flow across his vision as he struggled to wrap up the summary of how he found himself here. The “here” being dangled outside a window of a predatory loan business in Las Vegas, Nevada. Not to be confused with Las Vegas New Mexico. He thought he should be specific in his summary since there were predatory loan places everywhere and not just Las Vegas Nevada.

He took the pinpoints of light as an indication that his vision would soon be lost to unconsciousness and he should wrap things up quickly before he passed out but the lights came into focus and he recognized the shiny faces of Abraham Lincoln, Thomas Jefferson and George Washington flying out of his pockets. Oh well, it’s not like he had a couch to lose them in. He made a mental note to find a couch for his concrete man cave. He needed a place to store loose change.

The name predatory loan office was the ever imaginative Acme Loans. Not surprisingly they don’t advertise themselves as a predatory loan service and the more accurate Loan Shark term is a no-no,

It’s as if it the name sprang from the imagination of a crook who had grown up on Looney Tunes but then Frank reminded himself that he used to be a crook who had been raised on Looney Tunes and put a halt to the judging. He’d best get a move on with this story before consciousness left him.

The good news was that he had found Arnie Spilatro. The bad news was that he had found Arnie Spilatro. Along the way he discovered he had some detective skills. It also helped that Nick The Peep knew of the type of places where Spilatro could be found hanging out. Asking around at some of the bars and casinos that fit his profile, Frank was able to identify Acme Loans as belonging to one Arnie Spilatro.

One other thing he learned about his skills was that his ability to keep things on the down low needed work. Arnie was waiting for him with two friends. They were the two very large friends who were now emptying Franks loose change all over the streets of Vegas.

Nick was afraid that even though he was offering Arnie a job he would not believe the offer coming from someone claiming to be Nick over the phone. This is why he hired Frank to make the offer in person in an attempt to avoid the very situation Frank was in now. It had worked, for Nick. He was not in Frank’s predicament. It was time to plead his case before he lost consciousness and/or was dropped.

“Mr. Spilatro, there is no way I could cause you any harm. These two gueril-uh large gentleman are quite capable of preventing that. Especially since any weapons I could have but did not have on my person would be on the streets of Vegas below.”

The blur that was Arnie Spilatro appeared to shrug his shoulders and muttered “You have a point. Let him up.”

A few minutes later his vision returned and Frank was sitting on a beat-up old couch that had a look that said, “I fell off a truck at 70 miles an hour and I still look better than you.” Frank felt like he’d been thrown off a truck so the couch was getting no argument from him. Coming into focus was Guerrilla #2 offering him a cappuccino. A name totally made up without much imagination but he did look smaller than Guerrilla #1. Frank had a smart remark about the cappuccino and stereotypes but thought better of it.

“Mr Spilatro thanks for listening to me and for not killing me, mostly for the not killing me part. I just came to on behalf of Nick The Peep to offer you employment. I do not know the nature of the job but I have a number to call and he will tell you all about it. Frank pulled out his wallet from his back pocket and handed him a card. Thankfully, his fat George Castanza-like wallet had not succumbed to the gravity inversion he had been subjected to.

Spilatro told him he was making a call and that he should make himself at home. The kind of home where guests are routinely hung outside the window, thought Frank.

Ten minutes and a cappuccino refill later, Spilatro returned looking happy or a happy as a Vegas mobster could look without having just beat a murder rap.

“Well it looks like your boss and I have come to an agreement so you are free to go.” Frank had a few questions but decided that “thank you” was the safe response and headed back to the airport.

Nick had been happy with the job that Frank had done and wired him his money before he left for airport. Deciding he had earned himself a treat he upgraded his seat to avoid the middle aisle and included a drink voucher.

Upon draining his Scotch he reclined his seat, closed his eyes and put the upside down vision of the Vegas Streets to rest.

Notes of Future Past (writers block)

I’ve decided that I need to be more regular in updating my blog and as such I am harvesting some ideas from older notes for a few of my latest blog posts.

My current dilemma is what most people call writers block but I tend to be a bit dramatic so I like to refer to it as “the proverbial brick wall.” It has a nice combination of legend and pain.

One would think that a pandemic in which you are forced to restrict all physical contact with everyone would be perfect for getting some writing done. One could think this but one would be wrong.

Writing during a pandemic has been near impossible for me to do without being affected by any emotion associated with the pandemic.

Consider the cliche and somewhat comedic, “It was a dark and stormy night.” During a pandemic a “dark and stormy night” is a walk in the park and does not achieve what the writer intended to create , a foreboding atmosphere. To truly capture the feeling of impending doom, the cliche would have to be modified such that the walk in the park turned into a dark and stormy walk in central park, during a recession. Maybe I’ve seen “The Warriors” too many times.

For me, an extended visit to writers block land can usually be broken up by a trip to Vegas. In Vegas there are way too many “What the hell did I just see?” moments to not have any ideas to write about.
In the middle of a pandemic a trip to Vegas doesn’t strike me as a good idea. Don’t give me any “cancel culture” bull. I have a compromised immune system and Ive been a science geek all of my life. If you find yourself using the term cancel culture regularly you might want to retrace your steps back to Jr. High School and find out where you lost your common sense.

In lieu of a trip to Vegas the internet is a good place to break through the proverbial brick wall. Just don’t believe everything you read.
Which is a great way to get writing ideas. Prefacing anything you read with the phrase “what if this were true” is a great way to generate story ideas. Of course if it is true you may be just sewing seeds for disinformation and conspiracy theories. If you can’t tell the difference between fact and fiction and you have performed exhaustive searches through “snopes.com”, “factcheck.org” and “politifact.com” then you should move on to something that is obviously as true as “the world is round”. If you have doubts even about that then for god sake stay off of the internet.

Tales From Vegas

I am on my way to the airport and my stereo system , not finding the artist I commanded it to play,  chooses on it’s own.

Fresh beats hit the speakers and the sounds of  a dance number titled  “Breakfast in Vegas” by Praga Khan are reverberating around the panels of my Fiesta. That’s right , it’s a party on the road. I am a few hamsters shy of having a car commercial on my hands.

Since I am on my way to Vegas I find this whole scenario interesting but not worth much thought. Vegas as a force can put gravity to shame.  The origins of Vegas is a well known story but it is hard to believe that a group of writers were not involved. The collection of characters that inhabit this city should insure that no writer  ever passing through suffer from writers block.

From the neon signs that have been abandoned by their host buildings to the upside down check cashing sign and the house that Bugsy built there are tales clamoring to be told. Every corner turned and every hotel safe opened reveals a bit about the night or the decade before.

Checking into my room I inspect the functionality of the hotel safe. My laptop is old but it contains hundreds of stories and the thousands of hours spent crafting them. Once assured of it’s security I place my computer into it but discover an empty packet for some kind of endurance product named Rhino something or other. Wow,this person took their gambling serious, I thought.  I flipped over the other side of the packet and read the fine print.  A revelation popped into my head, oh that’s what they took seriously. I guess it was in the safe for extreme emergencies and I guess he had one.

Having locked up my dreams* for the night, I headed down to the street to join the characters that would inhabit my world for the next few days. I am in the downtown section of Vegas where things tend to be grittier. It has more of a state fair atmosphere than the strip. Less than a block from the hotel I discover a little bar that has a section exposed to the street complete with barstools outside so you can enjoy your drink and people watch at the same time.  I make a note of it and decide to check out what is happening further downtown. I am meeting up with one of my oldest friends tonight and by oldest I mean he has been a good friend for a long time. He also just happens to be older than me.** His flight puts him in Vegas a few hours from now so I have some time to burn.

I head down to one of the stage areas where free concerts are always going on. Tonight it’s Elvis. I am now officially in Vegas. Truth be told, I could have done better but there was not a keg of beer and a karaoke machine in site. After a while I move past Elvis and make my way down the block to the next stage complete with band. I didn’t catch their name but they seem to be a hair band tribute. Which hair band? Apparently all of them. After listening to their version of Bon Jovi’s version of  the Thin Lizzie song “The Boys Are Back In Town”, I decide that this is my cue to go back to my newfound bar because surely the boys are back in town

Getting back to the bar I  sit down at the outside section . It’s the kind of a place where they may not know your name but are friendly enough to make one up for you.

I pick up a drink menu. It announces  the name of this place as “The Park”. Strange, not a tree or blade of grass in sight, I thought. Glancing around I notice the only business sign attached to the building, a small unassuming neon job with an arrow pointing to the bar and the words “Park”.  That seals the deal. With the sign and the excellent beers on the menu I decide this place is now my favorite bar in Vegas***. I have officially found my orbit in the gravitational field of Vegas.  I obey the sign and stay for a while. I text my friend my location and settle in with a fine brew.

I people watch and continue to consume brews and time passes quickly. You know how it is when you are minding someone else’s business. I soon hear the familiar greeting of my friend and I welcome him to my new favorite bar. Seeing the “Park” sign he approves of my choice. We toast the visit and both agree that this will be a good time, tales will be told and new ones generated. Writers block should not be an issue for a while.

*Hey it’s a metaphor, I am trying to be literary here.

**Yes, its a smart ass shout out to my friend James.

*** When I am in a new town I feel that I have not officially visited unless I have found a favorite bar. It usually does not take long even in a large city. It gives me a home base for the current and perhaps subsequent visits.