my husband has often spouted a liquid gold observation regarding las vegas:
it's the only city in the world where both the offensively-stinky, private jet plane, flying-to-the-supermarket-clientele, can rub shoulders with society's pigeonholed down 'n out; plucked, primed and ready for roasting...
splatter me in the gun spray of triggering vegas thoughts; the cunning, compulsive slither over to the darker side. slather me in the dark mud of excess; caked on 'til thick and hard and cracked when i sink from the weight of it all...
drinking, drugging, gambling, fucking, shopping. moderation never does caress vegas' hot desert sands, but rather, compulsion. once the obssession is stirred lightly as with a cocktail stick; your tab is full and all roads out of sin city are shadowed over by the darkness within.
black thoughts carry you full speed within the cabin of an 18-wheeler, into the blackest soul science will ever discover; except it comets violently down from the milky way and crashes into you.
words, deeds and actions lived everyday by the lost, the sick, the terrified.
but today i found vegas' heart.
on a stunning, pollyanna morn, i entered a strip mall storefront entitled "serenity club" and found where the darkness parts.
where newcomers petrified of the seasonal alcohol blitzkrieg can find reprieve.
where i flirted with a dice dealer with 27 years sobriety, because he endeared me with the term "flea bag hotel".
and where i made a gentleman smile across the chasm of chairs, simply because i was from toronto, too.
our hearts will never be filled with that which we inhale, ingest or suck down with swirly straws...
but, they will be filled knowing that we are all the same: flawed humans, no matter where we roll the dice...