Lady Luck
It's Monday night, the night before the biggest party in the ski industry, and all the pieces are slowly falling into place. The video has been edited, re-edited, and laid to tape. The Joint at the Hard Rock -- a venue Queens of the Stone Age will be rocking in just three weeks -- is reserved. Uncle E will be flying in on a private plane from Aspen in the morning to fill the hole left by Greg Stump's sudden withdrawal as M.C. Everything is set except for one key element -- the trophy girl, the sweet little piece of eye-candy that is technically part of the background, but usually ends up being the center of attention.
To make matters worse, our budget is completely blown. The trophies themselves cost three-times what we had expected, and The Joint required a ridiculous alcohol minimum that, considering skiers propensity for drinking only what's free, we know we won't meet. And this is Vegas, where hot, young girls willing to exhibit themselves are not hard to find, but certainly don't come cheap. Like many in this city tonight, we're in desperate need of some good fortune. If there's one thing I've learned about Vegas, it's that it eats the desperate alive.
We're standing among the crowd at the Center Bar in the Hard Rock, wallowing in self-pity, when a glimmer of hope suddenly arises. Kevin Back, POWDER's Ad Sales Manager, and a man with a reputation for spinning straw into gold, suddenly pulls a C-note from his pocket.
"I won this on the Superbowl," he says in a serious tone uncharacteristic of this normally jovial man. "We're going to bet it. We either lose it all, or win enough to hire a trophy girl."
"What do we play?" I ask, my interest suddenly piqued.
Kevin turns slowly to Keith Carlsen, who in a very definitive, very matter-of-fact way, says, "We put it all on red."
This makes perfect sense in a gambler's mind. The Bucs wore red, and cleaned up on Superbowl Sunday. Kevin bet on them, and cleaned up as well. When something is working for you, you stick with it. With a spin of the wheel, our money is suddenly doubled. We split the winnings three ways, and head for the $10 blackjack table.
The POWDER staff has never been afraid of a friendly wager. Last year, after the Patriots beat the Steelers in the AFC Championship game, Photo Editor Dave Reddick had to be Associate Publisher Josh Weis's ski caddy for a day. Just recently, Weis experienced the other side of the gambling equation when, after the Patriots lost to Gabe Schroder's Broncos, he was forced to ski a run on a powder day with his jacket open. But never have we put so much on the line for such a noble cause.
"We're on a mission from God," Back says as the three of us sit at the table. I personally can count on Shannon Schad's four-fingered hand the number of times I've walked away from a blackjack table with money in my pocket. I don't think Kevin or Keith's history is any better. I can feel the beads of sweat run down my flanks as the cards hit the felt.
For some reason, this time is different. Blackjacks flow, and when they don't, the dealer -- a skier from Tahoe who is sympathetic to our cause -- manages to bust. Before we know it, we're up to $380. A couple of bad hands later, we're down to $300. We walk.
I spend the next day scouring the floor of the SIA show for talent. Our first choice is the Lange girl, a striking, six-foot-plus blond from Lithuania. We spend most of the day negotiating, only to find out that professional models get paid professional rates, and our amateur blackjack winnings aren't going to cut it.
By 5:30, I'm already late for rehearsal, and afraid to show my face without the prize we played for last night. With no girl, and $300 worth of casino chips burning a hole in my pocket, I hit the Helly Hansen booth for a beer. I start to get that desperate feeling again. Then I spot her, across the way at the Orage booth -- the Queen of Hearts to my Ace of Diamonds. Just two hours before the doors open, my mission is complete.
Las Vegas: a city of dreamers, and of crushed dreams. But a place where, once in a rare while, the bums win. That, after all, is what the dreams are made of.