what better way to spend new year's eve

than stranded at mccarran airport in las vegas after missing a 7:23pm flight to los angeles thanks to a heated argument with security goons who searched your bags and forced you to part with not only your zippo, but also the travel-sized sewing kit you needed to fix a tear in the lining of your jacket? i could care less about crappy needles and plastic thimbles, but COME ON. (read like gob from arrested development. now once more, with feeling!) don't tell me that zippos aren't allowed on board. i flew with this bad boy last year, and there are signs everywhere that say "certain tobacco materials" are permitted. don't make me pay to have it sent to my home. screw that. what? then you'll keep it for yourself? fine, i'll cough up 14 big ones. but only because that lighter was there for me when good fortune was nowhere to be found, case in point, moments like these. no need to apologize and call me sir, i'll live. and thank you for jamming my stupid magazines into the wrong pocket. happy fucking new year.


other than this quasi-fracas and my second flight being delayed by 45 minutes, the past few days were quite nice. my parents recently invested in a house in las vegas--they're taking advantage of nevada's booming real estate market, they say--and a bunch of family members caravan'd from LA to check it out before the renters move in and make it their own. now there's family time, and there's good family time; despite the absence of warm water (for a few hours at least, until someone came to activate the gas) and furniture (unless you count sleeping bags), and me not being too fond of sin city in the first place (huge crowds generally scare me, but the opportunity to play bingo with senior citizens is appealing), everything fell into the latter category. and not necessarily because we were drunk or up five-hundy by midnight.


believe it or not, lazing about in an unfurnished house with nothing to do but eat junk food, play board games, and laugh stupidly with those who share your DNA and whom you may or may not always get along is not a bad way to spend the weekend, even when the bright lights, a thousand pretty women, and one-armed bandits promised by elvis can be found a few blocks away.