- I used to be a cool guy.
-
- I wore sunglasses 24 hours a day and
was the second-in-command to one of the most famous Monster Producers in
TV. He already had Yes Men. My job was to say No. And then hang around
and party.
-
- I even went to Las Vegas now and then,
on the boss's private jet. I didn't gamble, but was always ready for dinner,
a show and some backstage conversation. Witty conversation, we called it.
-
- But until last weekend it'd been 12 years
since I'd been in Vegas. I work for myself now, and never wear shades because
I can't abide the thought of anything clouding my view. As for witty conversation
- these days I talk mostly about the weather, and my listeners are likely
to be my dogs, horses, or trees.
-
- Still, I was looking forward to a few
days with old friends now living in America's Playground, even if this
time around Gwen the Beautiful and I had to fly east from Little Rock to
Memphis in order to get the best price going west. I expected a big contrast
with life in Paradise, and I got it, all right.
-
- The first thing I noticed when we got
off the plane was all the plastic surgery on the folks in the airport.
Men as well as women with facelifts and not a down-turned nose in sight.
-
- The women were perfectly made-up, and
both they and the men wore the hippest of fashions. We don't see designer
bags and flashing jewelry much in Paradise, but we sure saw it now.
-
- And after we got out on the street we
saw another big difference. Ferraris, BMWs and Lincoln SUVs like the one
in which our friends picked us up.
-
- Then there was their home, 3,500 square
feet under a red tile roof in a gated community with a vaguely Spanish
name. A backyard the size of a dog run.
-
- "Low maintenance," Mr. Vegas
Friend grinned.
-
- "No chiggers or ticks," Mrs.
Vegas Friend added. "Don't you love cement?"
-
- That night, they took us to a French
restaurant at the Wynn Hotel. I can still taste my entrée - a steak
so rare it could only be described as singed, with a sauce that made my
lips tingle. I like fried chicken as much as the next man, but this was
beyond compare. And the mind-blowing light show that went with it wasn't
bad, either.
-
- The next day, our foursome caught up
on all that's been happening in our lives in a marathon conversation with
more laughs than words. And that night we saw Celine Dion's show. The lady
works hard for the money. Last time I saw that much sweat on a person was
last August, when I walked from our front porch to the chicken coop.
-
- Soon, though, we were back at the Little
Rock airport, where our friend Celia, Sweet Jane's sister, picked us up.
Celia wore faded jeans and had a smudge of grease on her cheek, and drove
her old Chevy pickup, apologizing because her teenage son had added headers
and glass packs loud enough to out-call a mating bull elephant.
-
- As Celia drove us home, she brought us
up to date on local events. The deputies were still looking for a robbery
suspect they couldn't seem to catch, "mostly because he's six foot
six and a former Marine, and they don't want to know how hard he'll fight
back."
-
- And, she said, her neighbor, Rita, "has
been making a fool of herself, bringing home men at night who she'd never
look at twice if it was day."
-
- Another neighbor, Tommy from Chicago,
had been calling and asking Celia to "come over - please - and kick
out the space aliens camped on my porch!"
-
- Tommy even sent her a bottle of Paris
Hilton perfume to sweeten the pot, but it didn't work. "My word! Like
I'd ever have a place to wear something as fancy as that!"
-
- And and
-
- And I sat there in the seat while, beside
her, Gwen smiled and said, "Thanks, Celia, for such a wonderful welcome
home."
-
- And I thought: Gwen's right. It really
is a wonderful welcome.
-
- Because the way I see it is this.
-
- I used to be a cool guy. Yep, I was.
-
- But now - my word! Who cares?
-
- I'm grateful to both Las Vegas and Paradise.
Just for being two of the many places I can go.
-
-
- Copyright C 2006 by Larry Brody. For
permission to reprint this column, please write to LarryBrody@cloudcreek.org.
-
- ******
-
- Author Larry Brody's weekly column, LIVE!
FROM PARADISE! appears on his website, www.larrybrody.com. He has written
thousands of hours of network television, and is the author of "Television
Writing from the Inside Out" and "Turning Points in Television."
Brody is Creative Director of The Cloud Creek Institute for the Arts, the
world's first in-residence media colony. More about his activities can
be seen on www.tvwriter.com and www.cloudcreek.org. He welcomes your comments
and feedback at LarryBrody@cloudcreek.org. Brody, his wife and their dogs,
cats, horses and chickens live in Marion County, Arkansas. The other residents
of the mythical town of Paradise reside in his imagination.
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