Mostly Semantics

It wouldn’t surprise anyone who knows me very well, but I’ve never been kicked out of anywhere before.

I’ve left before it was possible/likely I’d be kicked out, but I’ve never actually had someone tell me to leave. No loud arguments. No real fights. Nothing.

Until yesterday, when I was escorted out of Wynn Las Vegas.

Did I cheat at cards? Get too big of a winning streak and needed to be cooled off? Fondle a showgirl? Nope, I just helped support one of my favorite TV writers (and the entire Writer’s Guild, as well).

It started innocently enough when I was reading a Pop Candy post that mentioned there would be strike-related activity here in Vegas (where I’m at for work, attending CES and trying to keep us well ahead of the competition) this week.

“I support the strike,” I thought. “I’m in Vegas. I should check that out.”

Mousing over the link and finding out that it was to a post by one of my favorite writers, Jane Espenson, I of course clicked. By the time I read Jane’s post, she already had made a new post with details about when and where she’d be (though without the “Update” part at the end). I would be done with CES stuff by 4 or 5, giving me plenty of time to make her appearance. I quickly shot off an e-mail to the other writers of this blog, bragging about my opportunity and headed off to the conference.

As expected, the first response was from CV:

Do you understand how jealous I am of you? My favorite non-Joss Buffyverse writer, and meeting her? She’s the entire reason I started to watch Gilmore Girls.

I bemoaned the fact I had nothing for her to sign, and MS suggested I offer my chest, which wasn’t a terrible thought (maybe that’s just because I’m in Vegas, though). About half an hour later, CV sent me an update with this post letting me know that Jane would be at Wynn’s a couple hours earlier. That cut my schedule pretty tight, but it was still an opportunity I couldn’t miss. Also, as a bonus, Jane mentioned leafleting, which gave me the perfect autograph material after all.

Rushing back to my hotel after leaving a worthless session on user-generated content (Are we still ahead of the industry curve? Check.), I dealt with monorail crowds and waits as patiently as possible. Once I got to my room, I quickly changed, packed a smaller bag with my camera, a notepad and a couple of pens and rushed back to the monorail with it already being shortly past 5.

Rather than take the recommended route of training to the Convention Center and taking the shuttle bus to Wynn’s, I decided to exit one station earlier and just walk, since the distance was technically less from that stop to Wynn’s. Unfortunately, I had forgotten that Las Vegas really doesn’t like you walking anywhere that’s not the strip itself, so I lost some time navigating crappy sidewalks, narrow medians and 5-way intersections before finishing my giant C-shaped trip to the hotel.

Once I got there, I headed straight to the Alsace Ballroom where Jane was supposed to be, and arrived nearly heartbroken when the two chairs outside the room were empty. Fearing that she had already been there and gone, I hurriedly pulled out my phone and checked her blog again, to my relief finding yet another update with her new location.

I followed the signs and just as I reached the hallway for the “Showstoppers” registration, she (wearing a WGA shirt and a Buffy fanny pack) and a man walked right by me. I tentatively said, “Miss Espenson?”, which caused her companion to turn around and see who had said that. She then turned around and I introduced myself and though she was a bit disappointed I wasn’t the guy with the fliers, she was very gracious and happy that I had shown up. She introduced her friend as Mark Verheiden, a fellow “Battlestar Galactica” writer (who also, I found out when researching for this post, had worked on “Smallville”). I sheepishly had to ask him his name again later, though, as she made the introduction while we were walking through a throng of people back to the ballroom to see if any other fans were waiting there.

I was the only one so we headed back to the area where they were going to hand out fliers and, while still waiting for the leaflets, I talked to Jane a bit about how Shindig had been the episode that made me fall for “Firefly“. I also mentioned CV’s quote about watching Gilmore Girls because of her, and — sorry, CV — she said that her work on that show was heavily rewritten and that “maybe half a word” of hers actually made it on air.

Finally the fliers showed up, so we started to hand them out to people walking by for the “Showstoppers” (a journalist supporting a cause? Probably not my proudest moment, but what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, right?). Three more fans showed up and helped out, and surprisingly people were pretty friendly and receptive to our handouts. Maybe it’s because most of them were press and therefore more interested (as Jane thought), informed or empathetic than your typical person. Whatever the reason, things were going well and we ended up needing a second round of fliers delivered (along with a handful of WGA shirts for those of us helping, which you can be sure I’ll be sporting upon my return to DC).

The good times didn’t last long, though, as hotel security showed up shortly thereafter and told us that we were neither part of the convention nor the hotel and therefore had to leave. The seven of us walked out with the guard following behind us as we tried to determine if we could hand them out somewhere else nearby and as another fan showed up to talk to Jane. When we neared the main entrance, the guard pointed us toward it and told us how to exit. Jane stopped, opened up her fanny pack, pulled out a casino ticket and asked him, “Can I stay and gamble?” Being a good employee, he had no option but to say yes, so the rest of us continued our way out (not before I got a pic with Jane and Mark, though I did forget to get autographs for myself and CV). Jane asked Mark if he was going to stick around since he had earlier mentioned that he had a slot hostess (stop your snickering, MBG), but he said he was too ticked off by getting kicked out to give Wynn’s anymore money.

So, barely more than 24 hours into the trip I had a new story, a new T-shirt that has to be nearly one-of-a-kind on the East Coast, and I lost my never-kicked-out virginity with one of my favorite writers. Vegas, baby. Vegas.

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