Send me a (Hells) Angel

Kelly told me this would happen...

Well, maybe not the hells angel part, but certainly the part about getting free dinners and drinks when you sit alone at the bar in Vegas. No, we don't have to call Bill W. on me or check me in to some sort of program for people who frequent bars on their own. I was out in Vegas by myself -- for all intents and purposes because Julia was working -- and the bartenders were all pretty damn cute. So, there.

The first night in town, dinner was purchased by Lynn. Yes, that's a guy. Lynn was an inventor from Philadelphia who was in town for the National Hardware Show (exciting) and had left his five kids and his wife at home. The reason I got to hear all about the 5 kids and the wife because Lynn asked me where I was staying and then got an immediate guilty conscience. See, I didn't read anything into it, but he kept declaring that he was only a friendly guy making conversation. He probably was, but the fact that he kept getting louder and louder in his declarations of this fact made me a little uncomfortable. Then, his $2 faux coronas kicked in and I got to hear all about his kids and wife 3 or 4 times. Ugh.

So, when my food arrived, boxed thanks to a not-so-secret signal I sent to the bartender, I did what any self-respecting girl would do when faced with a very sloppy, drunk father of 5 who was too far gone to notice the fact that he was repeating himself over and over again, but who had very clearly said (a few times) to the bartender to put everything on his tab....

Not my proudest moment, but I feel I redeemed myself the next night.

See, the second day in Vegas, I found this racket where CBS pays you $50 to watch new shows that they're trying out for the CW network and talk about them in a focus group. The shows are complete dreck, but when you're sunburned and sick of making charitable donations to the State of Nevada, you go for it -- twice. They also give you free drink coupons at The Rainforest Café. Since their maggies aren't half bad in Towson and I needed to stick close to the hotel because Julia and I were going on the ghost tour, I took advantage of it.

I was minding my own business when a man in what can best be described as one of the scariest individuals I have ever seen sat down beside me. He had rings and tats and spiked accessories and a skull on his t-shirt, and I realize I'm in no way giving the imagery justice. Seriously, just go with me on this one. As it turns out, I wasn't being stereotypical, either. This man, "Dax," is an actual member of the world's largest "1% Motorcycle Club," (aka the Hells Angels) but don't worry, he picked The Rainforest Café because he thought it was one of the "prettiest bars he had ever seen." Yeah, I didn't think that that was what I had heard either, but then he repeated himself (this seemed to be a theme in Vegas) and it turned out that it was. Then, he asked if he could buy me a drink, and because Rule #1 that you don't really turn down a member of the Hells Angels, and Rule #2 is always look for good stories, and Rule #3 is that if you're sitting there, you may as well take advantage of a free drink, I allowed Dax to purchase a fruity beverage on my behalf. Because, really, what part of watching a man in a Hells Angel jacket ordering something with an umbrella isn't a lot of fun? In case you're wondering, he ordered a beer for himself -- disappointing, but it did help to partially maintain his street cred.

Despite the scary outward appearance and the fact that he was pushing 50, Dax was one of the most fascinating people I have ever met. We had a great conversation, and I learned quite a bit about the Hells Angel Motorcycle Club. They even have a website now (www.hells-angels.com)! He kept saying that there was a guy in his club (read: motorcycle gang) that was "perfect" for me. While I'm sure Dax's "brother" is a very nice individual, and I know I give off that biker-chick-meets-Laura-Ingalls-Wilder vibe, I'm really not ready for another long-distance relationship. Especially not one that involves me sitting on a hog for more than 20k miles a year!

Nice of him to offer though... :)