About: Patience (Part One)

It’s 6:30pm, and I’ve yet to eat a single bite all day.  Around 8:30am the morning was greeted with bitterness, confusion, and anger…the by-product of another memorable forgettable evening.  We’re in Vegas, and one of my best friends is getting married the next evening, but today is moving day.  We’ve paid our last respects to bachelorhood…now it’s time to start the hotel shuffle.  We go here, he goes there, she and him somewhere else…and the motion is set very early.  MGM, Tropicana, Paris, a few places in between, all a blur…a blur with undertones of ravenous hunger. 

Finally, after countless trips to the car and back again, this hotel and that hotel and this hotel again…all are as settled as possible, and now it’s time to eat.  It’s 4:30pm, and the body is begging for something, anything to chase away the residuals of last night’s adventures.  The phone rings.  Of course we can help the bride and groom to be get things set up for tomorrow’s reception at Caesars…after all, that’s the reason we’re all here!  Food will have to wait, but only for a short time.  This task cannot possibly last too long. 

Standing outside the entrance to Caligula’s lair, the coordination begins.  Phone calls are coming in left and right.  Directions are given to unreceptive ears.  Time marches on.  Patience is tested.  The stomach is angry.   It’s 5pm. 

It’s safe to say that all who know me would describe me as an extremely patient man (if they were asked to say something that was entirely untruthful), but it’s not my day…so I put on my best face, and silently pray that the supplies arrive soon.  That prayer is answered at 5:14pm.

The cars pull up.  Two SUVs.  Massive.  Filled to the brim.  Overflowing.  Although the task seems daunting at the onset, four 30 something dudes using hunger as a motivation should be able to knock this out in no time.  Our only instructions…we can’t ask the hotel staff for assistance in any way, because you’re technically not supposed to bring in outside food and beverages to their establishment.  This could lead to annoying little problems that could only add to the stress level of an already stressful time for our special couple…so it must be kept on the extreme DL.  No problem.  We will comply.  I will comply.

It’s 5:15pm.  My buddy the General, with a hunger on par with my own dives into the job by opening the driver’s side back door.  Las Vegas is loud…very loud.  It’s hard to hear your own thoughts at times above all the hustle and bustle.  Rarely does Las Vegas go silent.  But this was one of those moments.  All noise ceased.  All humanity stood in place.  All was quiet, all was calm…all except the thunderous, echoing crash of one crystal serving bowl transforming itself into 10,000 shards of glass on the cold Nevada pavement.  “Don’t worry about it…as long as it’s not my crystal serving bowl!!!” cried the former owner of said crystal serving bowl.  Good times.

Being an admittedly impatient and indescribably hungry man with an aversion to awkward situations and a plethora (long live El Guapo) of things to be transferred from point A to point B, I grab the first item I can get a hold of.  Two SUVs.  Massive.  Filled to the brim.  Overflowing.  This is not going to be a one trip job, so I might as well leave the chaos behind me and head off for the first of many trips to the room.  My duty is clear.  My resolve is steadfast.  My adversary?...an 80lb plastic container chock full of wine bottles.  It’s 5:17pm.

Stay tuned.