I woke up last Sunday feeling a little off, and I just couldn’t shake the feeling all day. As I boarded the Continental flight to Vegas, I was seriously thinking of getting off. Maybe I would end up like one of those psychics who have a premonition not to fly, and then the plane blows up. Unfortunately, I wouldn’t be so lucky.
Instead, I landed in Las Vegas feeling worse than ever. Grover met me at the hotel, and it soon became readily apparent that I was suffering from a stomach virus. Thoughts of hanging out at the show meeting photographers and checking out what was going on in the industry were quickly squashed as I lay in bed from Sunday until I left on Wednesday evening. Things got so bad that I decided to visit an emergency clinic — Harmon Medical Center behind the Aladdin in case you ever need it. I was only slightly surprised to find that the clinic was virtually empty during the day. I can only surmise that the drunks, stoned and generally unwell roll in after dark.
New York banned public smoking a few years back, and I was really surprised to see how incredibly sensitive I was to the smoke while sick. I tried desperately to find something innocuous to eat, but it’s pretty difficult to get a piece of toast at Harrah’s late at night. Fortunately, the night manager at the Oyster Bar took pity on me.
Many bottles of Gatorade later, I’m still not back to 100%, despite having been back in New York for over four days. It’s hard to believe how much a little stomach bug can set you back, and I’m dying for a greasy cheeseburger and fries, but that isn’t in the cards quite yet. So Las Vegas, we shall meet again, but next time on my terms and around the Blackjack table.
I also had all these wonderful April Fools plans that didn’t come to fruition – like the blog entry about how we bought Getty and Canon, but alas, those will have to wait for another day.