(Not) Leaving Las Vegas
Getting there was half the fun, but getting home drove me half mad
I was in San Diego for the annual conference of the National Cartoonists Society and Reuben Awards ceremony. (I talked about it in this post.) My flight home to Philadelphia included a brief layover in Las Vegas.
It was all going so well. We landed in Vegas at about 9 p.m. — ahead of schedule! However, another plane was parked at our gate. The pilot announced they’d be holding the Philadelphia flight. However, despite my best O.J. Simpson impersonation, I missed my connection by about two minutes.
(No.. not THAT impersonation… THIS one…)
I was told that the airline could book me on the next available flight to the City of Brotherly Love — which was 9 o’clock the following night. So, I found myself in Las Vegas with 24 hours to kill. I booked myself into the Treasure Island hotel for the night and passed out.
I’m not much of a gambler. As a matter of fact, I sat down at one of the machines, ready to gamble away a couple of hours, and I realized I had no idea what the buttons did. I’m literally too dumb to lose money in Vegas. So I walked around for a few hours.
OK… several hours.
Finally, after the desert heat started to wear me down, I stopped at El Segundo Sol for a quick lunch and a margarita and decided to head to the airport. After all, I could use the time to finish some work in an air-conditioned environment. Finally, nine o’clock rolled around, and I got on the plane and made the long flight home to Philly.
Sketchy behavior
I got a little sketching done on the flight, and I have a few single-panel comics roughed out that I might polish up for final presentation. Here’s one of my favorites.
