CES 2008
Today I am at the Consumer Electronics Show in Las Vegas. It's a short visit, just enough time to run around the floor of the gigantic convention center, avoiding the typical booth babes and mediocre magicians, so I might find the hidden gem usually squirreled away in the South Hall, next to the Cheap Chinese Imported Items booths.
I had lunch at Wolfgang Puck's, and since the restaurant was busy, I had to sit at the bar to eat. I had tossed my CES program booklet on the bar next to me, and a second later the solitary woman on my right pointed at it and asked if the convention was going on. I told her it was, as demonstrated by all the geeky guys running around with palm-sized name badges hanging around their necks.
"Well, the adult expo starts this weekend," said the woman, whose name I soon discovered was Cindy.
"Now that's a registration line I don't want to be in," I said. "I bet there are some oogy guys hanging around at that one."
"That's my line of work," said Cindy.
Yikes!
"Really," I said, unsure of how to proceed. Yet the quest for the interesting story compelled me to ask questions. "What do you mean?"
"I own two adult bookstores in Florida," she said.
Intriguing. Suddenly I caught myself wondering: do they have franchises, like McDonalds? When does the inventory show up? In the middle of the night, in a truck wrapped in brown paper? Do they even wrap things in brown paper anymore? Did they ever?
"How did you get into that line of work?" I asked.
"I was a dancer for 10 years," she said. [I am using "dancer" as a proxy for our more delicate readers; her occupation is similar to what some people do with old paint when they're trying to take it off the wall.] "So," she said, "it naturally took my career in that direction."
"Naturally," I said.
She then tells me about what she's looking for at the expo and how she's excited to meet the celebrities and all the stuff that goes into managing a business that I always had thought was lit solely by neon.
By this time, I noticed (oblivious to her first three glasses) that she was quickly downing some weird liquor concoction. Her breath could have stripped the skin from my face. It was also at this time that I noticed she had scooted close to me and now, every time she gestured with her hand, her arm rubbed against mine. My weapon of choice in these circumstances: the iPhone slideshow of Disney World!
"And these are my kids," I said rapidly. "And here's my wife. Right there. Right here in this picture."
"Oh, she's so pretty," said Cindy.
"So pretty!" I said.
"Where are you staying?" Cindy then asked without pausing.
"Roach infested hotel over there," I said, waving vaguely in a direction that some would call northwest-southeastern. I had a handful of french fries to go.
"I'm just waiting for my room to be released," she said. I'm here all by myself."
"I'm not," I said. "Plenty of people with me today. Yes sir!"
Right then the guy I had been at the show with stood up from his seat and said he'd see me later. Then he left.
"You happily married?" she then asked.
"I am," I said, because when you get a question like that, the simplest, straightforward answer is the best.
And then she smiled and said she was glad because she doesn't meet many people who are happily married (I imagine this has something to do with her work environment). "You have a beautiful family," she said.
That made me smile, and I realized perhaps I had read her all wrong. Maybe all she wanted was someone to talk to, someone to make lunch a little less lonely, someone safe, someone different.
We talked a little more, mainly, believe it or not, about existentialism, belief, and truth, and then it was time for me to go. She shook my hand and said goodbye. I wished her well at her conference.
Then I left, but on my way out I looked back and she was pawing the new guy who had taken my seat, the new guy with a name badge around his neck, the new guy who was enjoying every minute of attention by the tipsy stranger at the bar.
Good luck, Cindy. I hope Las Vegas gives you the thing you're looking for.
I should do some 2007 tidying up before getting into 2008. First things first: Alex's seventh birthday.
