Easy does it

I wouldn’t really say I’m “settling in” to Vegas anymore, I’ve been here almost three months now. I saved so much money before I came, it’s given me little motivation to get a job. I still have a lot of time before I’ll need one to pay bills. I have done a moderate amount of looking though. I auditioned at one casino, they told me to come back when I have experience. I’ve been unbelievably lazy. And sober. I’ve had a flat tire going on 5 days now. It’s 10:45 a.m. and I’m about to go to bed. I’m not that tired, I woke up at 8:30 p.m. yesterday. This is what I’ve been doing. Lazing.

I play a lot of video games, watch a lot of movies and TV series. I go out to casinos. There’s plenty to do. I’m not bored at all.

———————————-

Last night (by that I mean the 17th) I went to the MGM Grand to play cards with Andy. After we finished, we were heading back to his car, which involved a decent walk through the casino and its massive lobby. Right after we left the poker room, we passed by a girl who appeared to be loitering about who I would best sum up as “very punk.” I think I made eye contact with her for maybe half a second but nothing significant. For the record, I take note of things fast, and have a pretty good memory. She had a pretty cute face, and a pretty good body, but all that was overshadowed by her nose ring (distracting to the point of butchering her look) and her hairstyle (one half not-even-shoulder length, mostly jet black but tips and strands of green and pink, the other half pretty close to buzzed). Her clothes were typical of the style she followed involving completely mismatched tanktop (black with pink outline) and skin-tight single-sleeved under shirt (horizontal black and white striped), ass-tight pants that bagged low and cut off 3 inches above the ankles (dark blue) and Chucks on her feet.

As we passed, she started walking along side me (on my right, Andy was to my left) uncharacteristically close, to the point where I was nearly running into Andy to keep from running into this girl. All the time, Andy and I are in the middle of a conversation (likely about hands we’d played) and this girl hasn’t said a damn word. Pretty quickly into this, I slow down to let her pass and she slows down with me, which does throw me off just a bit, but I continue with what I’m saying. We had cigs out as we started passing her and at this point, I’ve gotten out my lighter, and, having trouble starting the flame, stop walking for a sec to cover and light. She stops too. Maybe 15-20 seconds have passed since she first started walking next to me. At this point I realize that this can’t be a mistake and her actions have to be completely intentional. I take my first puff and turn my head to look at her and say,

“Can I help you?”

Virtually unphased, she cheerfully says “No.”

I start back walking and pass Andy my lighter, not talking for 8-10 seconds more because I’m too busy making sense of what is going on. In my head, I eliminate the possiblity that she’s a hooker, which was what I considered before I said anything. I think that maybe she’s a smoker and is just trying to cute her way into a cigarette instead of asking. So I offer.

“Would you like a cigarette?”

She says nothing, but nods her head rapidly and vehemently, like she’s excited. Really excited.

“Need a light?” I say, offering mine to her. She takes it and lights up; I take it back and start back walking, thinking I’ve deciphered the situation to its extent and the issue is resolved. She continues walking with us.

“So what are you guys doing?” she asks.

“We just finished playing cards.” I say, sounding completely unawkward despite what has just gone on for the last half minute.

“What kind?”

A terrible question. I know already that she isn’t going to know a damn thing about what I say, but I answer anyway.

“Just low-limit hold ’em.”

“Did you win?”

“I did, but…” I turn to Andy, “I don’t think you came out on top, did you?”

“No, I was down a bit.” This is the first thing Andy has said.

“So where are you guys staying?” she asks.

“Oh, we live here.”

“Oh, how long?”

“Coming up on three months now. How about you, where are you staying?”

“Oh, we’re in a Best Western on the North side, we were in North Las Vegas on tour.” Interesting that this is all she says, I take it to mean she’s in a band.

So I ask, “What’s the name of your band?”

“Girls with Guns.” Andy, at this point could no longer contain himself and nearly rolls laughing. I have to say, it was pretty funny that girl would be telling us that was her band name. It was the kind of thing that’s funny because it makes so much sense. I show a little reserve and am not laughing nearly as hard.

Andy manages to squeeze out a “That’s awesome.”

“So where are you from?” I ask.

“San Francisco.”

“Are you playing again?” This was another fish. Though it was pretty apparent at this point she was hitting on me, I thought maybe I could be wrong and she was just plugging her show.

“No, this is our last night here, we’re heading home tomorrow.” I can’t really get across how suspiciously that line was delivered. If I had to call it something, I would call it a signal.

The conversation pauses for a second. I ask her name and start to extend my hand.

“Nash.” she says. I hear Andy choke back a laugh and see him turn his head, so I step to block her view, say, “Nick,” smile, and shake her hand.

“I’m Andy.” says Andy, obviously recovered.

The conversation pauses a second more.

“So where are you guys headed?” she asks.

I hesitate, not sure where this is going. I look to my left to see how Andy wants to play it. Andy meets my gaze for a sec and looks away without saying anything, and I realize it’s on me. I’m almost certainly not interested in anything she has to offer, and am not going to invite her anywhere.

I turn back and say, “Home, I guess.”

Here I fully expect her to make an offer, with a “Well the band and I are going to do X, and/or would you like to go do X with us?” sortof deal, but she doesn’t really respond.

She walks for a second more with us and says, “Well I guess this is where we part ways!” and smiles bigger than she’s been smilling the whole time.

“OK, nice meeting you.” I say, and she walks back in the direction that we came from.

Andy and I don’t say anything for a second, and he breaks the silence with a “What the fuck was that?”

“I don’t know,” I say, “I’ve never seen such a passive-aggressive attempt.”

“Has she tried that before? What result was she hoping for? I guess that would’ve worked on some guys, I mean she was pretty good looking, except…”

“I know, I know, yeah, yeah.” It’s nice that Andy and I have such similar taste in girls’ appearance. “It made me sad.”

He laughs.

“It did!” I say. “That girl was destroying her potential with what she was doing to herself.”

“What, you didn’t like her hair?” he says with a smirk.

I laugh.

We’re still confused about exactly what she wanted to accomplish. We told the story to another friend that lives here. As soon as I got to the point about her only being there for a night, he interrupted with, “Dude, you could’ve gotten laid.” I responded with a dismissing wave of my hand. Aside from that, he had no further insight.

I am baffled by her strange tactics, and wished I could’ve given her a

more positive result, since I have a decent amount of respect for girls who show aggression. But, eh, whatever.

——————————-

I think that I might be some sort of escapist. I seem to recall always seeking/needing relief from my life, my situations, whatever… not really because they were too much for me to handle, but really because I’m bored. I was the kind of kid who multitasked by constantly daydreaming and still getting things done. What’s really brought this to mind is how much I enjoy listening to soundtracks of videogames I played and enjoyed. Mainly adventure games. It’s slightly disturbing that I enjoyed a period of time so much simply because I was engrossed in not being myself. It’s separate and different from nostalgia, but I suppose it’s similar. I would do it with books I read, but they don’t have downloadable soundtracks. I have plenty of appreciation and enjoyment for my real life experiences, but is it that dissatifaction that draws me to get away? Or is it the feelings I’ve had while suspended in disbelief, wrapped up in another world that are the source of my incompletion in day-to-day life? I’m not sure.