I Once Sat On a Couch
On a visit to Las Vegas in 2003, I started talking to a fun Australian-with-connections at our blackjack table. He invited me to accompany him to the Foundation Sin party on the top floor of the Mandalay Bay casino and resort.

Foundation Sin apparently refers to the International House of Blues (HOB) Foundation Service Industry (SIn) party, the only 'public' event held on the top floor, weekly, on Monday's. The lavish top floor featured various VIP lounges with florid Hindu/Buddhist jungle decor.

Large numbers of people were already trying to get past the guards at the elevator. Due to the Australian’s membership, we were able to just breeze our way past the velvet ropes! Loud music and the best scenic vistas of the city!

The Australian introduced me to his boss, and two other guests, one of whom was a wrestler-turned-baker. The boss had reserved the favored portion of the Foundation Room in front of the fireplace just for his guests, which now included me. The area was delimited by couches, and easy to patrol.

The room filled up with acres of beautiful people. As they packed in like sardines they increasingly tried to move into the couch area, but guards kept them away. I felt ostentatiously-privileged at being one of the few people in the room who could traverse the room with complete freedom.

A few beautiful women lingered for conversation, including a student from Florida and a helicopter pilot from North Carolina. What they desperately wanted was an opportunity to sit down and rest their aching feet, of course, but that privilege was denied them. Meanwhile, I could loll around in full view of the glittery rabble; relax in front of far-prettier people who could only dream of doing so.

The boss was very considerate of his guests and loved explaining his philosophy of generosity and joie de vivre. He lectured me on the importance of treating celebrities just like anyone else. This was something of a Hollywood crowd, and one had to be watchful - anyone could be there. I wondered if treating Hollywood-types like everyone else naturally meant treating everyone else like dirt, but kept my thoughts to myself. I'm sure the boss would have expansively explained it all away.

I lingered, because the boss had promised that the party would push the limits of decadence, mentioning a provocatively dressed (or undressed) woman who walked on her hands at a previous party. I waited, but no such woman appeared (they never do, somehow). So, it could have been even more decadent, and maybe it is, at times. A naked hand-walking woman in the zone of privilege, with privileged access: now that would be worth aching feet!
(Perv With A Dog had his eyes pecked out by scrub jays on, Sat 30 Jul 2011, 0:04, Reply)