50+ Lifestyles

Just Saying…

By Q.C. Jones

Bright Lights, Big City and a slice of homemade Pumpkin Pie

I was dog tired, the ‘crawl under the front porch for a week’ kind of dog tired. It had been something like 22 hours since I clawed my way out from under the covers at home and stumbled out the door for a pre-dawn flight at the Quad-Cities Airport.  It was 11:30 west coast time, and I had finally arrived at my hotel room. Nearly ready to pass out from exhaustion, I peeled back the sheets and collapsed into the bed.

Almost asleep, I fumbled for the switch to turn out the reading light over the bed. Blindly, I flipped the switch and was met not with darkness but with the low pitch growl of a motor.  Before my mind could comprehend or my body react, the curtains magically moved to full open. The bright lights of Las Vegas came screaming, streaming and flashing into my once quiet room. A combination of artificial daylight and an explosion of Fourth of July fireworks shot through my once sleepy eyes.

Muttering expletives not appropriate for publication, I find myself awake and wired as the witching hour settles over America’s favorite Sin City. And this brings us to our story.

My work brings me to Vegas a half dozen times a year.  Trust me when I say, these are not visits of the tourist type.  We’re talking work, and the travels are merely a bi-product of the effort. Over the past few years, I have made a few observations, and I would like to ask for your permission to share.

First, Vegas is a steaming, swirling cauldron of humanity drenched in the hyperbola of Hollywood romance and incessant Elvis reruns. Your shuttle ride to the hotel brings you into contact with folks from all over the planet; some squeaky clean and naïve, others seedy and shady. On this trip I sat next to a newly-wed couple on their honeymoon and a guy who confessed he would be in Vegas for three days and likely never sleep.  A quick walk in the morning always turns up a few folks who probably wouldn’t qualify for beautiful people status.

Secondly, friendly personalized service of any kind is a rare commodity in Las Vegas. I have waited in line for forty minutes only to be informed the line was going to close and I should march over to another longish line and restart my queue.  There is a good chance the friendliest greeting you will receive comes from the automated coin changer that spews a computer generated thank-you in six languages as it flashes for the next patron.

Finally, Vegas looks better at night than by the cold cruel light of dawn.  A friend, who carries big “street cred” in the world of lighting, tells me Las Vegas uses a larger variety of light bulbs than anywhere on the globe. Special designers are hired in droves to give drab concrete box buildings a romantic or sinfully exciting appearance as you approach after dark.  Black magic of all kinds are used to hypnotize the unwary into a spending frenzy.

For just a moment, I found myself looking out the 20th floor window at the whirling kaleidoscope of lights and videos coming from everywhere.  I was tired but somehow under their magnetic spell.  For a split second, I thought of stepping out into the warm night air and taking in the show.  Maybe the ghost of Elvis was calling. Perhaps, the magic of Penn and Teller was lifting me. But, something happened.

I stumbled back over to the bed. Using the light from my cell phone dial pad, I identified the “curtain close” button and laid my weary head to the pile of pillows.  As sleep drew near, I thought of the lights of my QC home.  The reflection of morning sun against the Centennial Bridge, the beacon high atop the Wells Fargo Building in Davenport and even the colors of the oak leaves in the autumn sun. The pleasant thoughts of our home town QCA brought vivid dreams.

I found myself sitting at a festive table with friends and family.  With the exception of some candles, the lights were neither bright nor flashing. The centerpiece of the table was a massive pumpkin pie. To the best of my recollection, it seemed to be a full three feet in diameter. Topping the whole thing was a decorative likeness to our home on the great river.

Somewhere there is a message.  There truly is no place like home.  Bright lights, facades and excitement are easily trumped by friends, family and the warm glow of home. You can keep the big city, there is no place like home… Just saying.