Fridays with Fenech -- What happens in Vegas

By Anthony Fenech, Senior Reporter || February 25, 2011

So where were we?

Ah, yes — creeping. On coaches. And athletes. And girls that work at the SAC and girls that sit in the front of you in class. And you didn’t want this to turn into a creeping column, but you’re creeping when you eat and you’re creeping when you sleep and —

So where are we?

Ah, yes — Vegas. We’re in Vegas. You’re hung over. You’re always hung over. But Vegas hangovers are different. Its mid-afternoon, your head is still throbbing, the liquor still lingering, all you’re thinking about is sleeping —

And then you meet her.

You meet her and then you’re at dinner. You’re watching fountains and walking the strip together, inside the Mirage and through Caesars Palace. You’re wearing a black shirt, she’s wearing a white dress; there’s a Heineken in your left hand and a tall margarita in her right. You’re falling in love under the lights and it’s kind of like a Taylor Swift song —

And then she grabs your hand.

Or you grab hers. Palm-to-palm for a second before interlocking fingers and you smile. She smiles. You’re in love, she’s probably definitely not in love. You walk to her room and ask for a kiss; she doesn’t give you a kiss, but you absolutely love that she didn’t give you a kiss and you stumble off in this dreamy daze —

And then you wake up.

You wake up hung over, but you’re always hung over. Athough these hangovers are different, your heart still throbbing, the love still lingering, all you’re still thinking about is sleeping. And then you work all day and now its late and you’re playing slots and she’s watching you –

And then she says hey.

“You might have a Facebook message from someone.”

You say no way, she says yeah and you’re baffled. She’s got a boyfriend, you’ve been creeped on. You’re in love with this girl that’s got a boyfriend and it’s all because you didn’t creep in the first place.

You didn’t accept her friend request yet. You didn’t want to read her life story on a website; you were having enough fun doing that in real life.

You didn’t need to see pictures online; you had a gallery of shots all the time. And you certainly didn’t want to know that there was a boyfriend on the other line.

But you think its funny. She thinks its embarrassing, and then she talks and you listen. And it sounds bad – the relationship. And you feel bad — for her. And she talks and you listen. Then you walk her up to her room and you don’t ask for a kiss, but she asks for a hug and it’s kind of like that kiss —

And you just stay up.

You stay up and work all day. You get another Facebook message from the boyfriend — “What, no answer?” And you tweet about it. Then he creates a Twitter feed and he tweets about it, and you think its funnier and she doesn’t think it’s funny at all. But regardless, you only have one more, so you play all night and talk all morning and you don’t want to say bye —

And then it’s bye.

You say you loved meeting her and that she deserves better. She says thanks for not responding and it sucks that it’s over. You get on a plane to your cold-weather home and she gets on a plane to her warm-weather home with your heart in tow and wrapped in a bow —

And then you get a Facebook message from someone.

You see the face, you get real excited and, with each word you read, it hits you in the jaw like you you’re blindsided.

Your jaw drops. Your eyes pop. For a minute, everything just stops.

Whatever happens in Vegas doesn’t stay in Vegas.