Imagine, if you will, a woodworking convention being held in Fabulous Las Vegas, Nevada.  That's what the flashing sign says..."Welcome to Fabulous Las Vegas".  I stared at it for a little while then looked at my surroundings and I came to the conclusion that whoever paid to have that sign made had an enormous inflated opinion.

Attending said convention are five monkeys.  Said monkeys make up a troupe and you are their ringleader but you have no ring.  That's right, somebody, somewhere, somehow, raped you of your ring and there you are...standing in front of God and everybody completely ring-less and your troupe of monkeys are ripping around like their hair is on fire.  All except me because I am, by nature, quite calm.  There is, however, one member of the troupe who isn't calm.  In fact, he's wired like a switchboard.

The monkeys I speak of are:

Monkey 1 - Andrew (not a member of our list)
Monkey 2 - Beamer
Monkey 3 - Gary (not a member of our list)
Monkey 4 - Joe
Monkey 5 - Tim

Okay...monkeys 1, 2 and 3 personally know each other whereas monkeys 4 & 5 are outcasts - we only know ourselves.  But that situation would soon change.

Beamer and Gary were driving in from Sacramento, CA and would arrive around 6 PM Tuesday evening.  Tim was flying in from Omaha, NE and wouldn't get there until 8 AM on Wednesday.  I flew in from Missoula, MT and arrived shortly after 11 AM.  To this day, I don't have a clue how Andrew (by the way, it ain't Andy...it's Andrew!) got there.  I asked, but I don't remember being told how he got there - from looking at him he probably hitchhiked.  I arrived in Fabulous Las Vegas Tuesday morning a strong 6 hours before anyone else, which gave me ample time to get settled in, and the very first thing I did was to do what my Boy Scout motto has always held for me, "Be Prepared".  So, I started by laying out my territory.   I got my directions oriented, I surveyed the casino room floor, I reconnoitered the perimeter for bars, restaurants and the like and I parlayed with the floor people to let my people be.  I informed them my people were to come and go unhindered  no matter what drunken state they were in.  I usually got blank stares but when I walked away I at least felt confident they were informed.

There's a fair chance some of you have never been to Vegas so I'll try to explain what the experience is like.  Ok, now, close your eyes...don't be an idiot, how can you possibly close your eyes and still read this?

Vegas is a 24-hour, 7 days-a-week, 365 days-a-year race track, only, instead of cars, there are people.  Yeah, there are also cars and they're part of the race track but they're outside.  Stepping from the sidewalk into some of the better hotels/casinos is like taking a step from Earth and finding yourself on Saturn.  Total immersion into the surreal has taken place; opulence, grandeur, spectacle, awe and complete confusion has overwhelmed you.  You could walk around Caesar's Palace for 3 solid months and I'll bet you your planer that if I were to stop you and ask you where a certain place was you'd stare at me and say, "I...I...I...I have no idea, I just got here myself."

Pretty soon I get a call from Beamer saying they were in town and checked into their room.  "We're in our room."

"Swell, ummmm...do you...ahh...do you wanna tell me your room number or would you rather I knock on every door in the hotel?  There are only 5,000 rooms in this place so it might take me awhile but I'll get there eventually."

"It's 16132, smart ass."

I get up to their room and Gary answers the door.  Now,  I don't know for a fact if he's older than me but for some reason I instantly had this impression he could have been my Grandpa and I'm 50!  He was as calm as me, slightly hippyish, and sported a most devilish grin, which forced me to be concerned the whole time we were together and brace for what shenanigans he might be up to.

"So, Gary," I said looking around, "what'd you do with Beamer?  Didja tie him up and stuff him under the bed?"

Grin.  "No," he said grinning, "he's in the potty."  Grin.

"Tied up?"

"Yeah, most likely he'll be in there for hours because we," he said in a sing-song voice and bobbed his head back and forth, "just had to stop and eat at Taco Bell."

"Ahhh, I see.  I call it Taco Toilet and is the reason why I don't eat there.  Beamer told us on IRC that he has no sense of taste so that's why he can I 'spose.  I do find it funny someone would pay money for that,"  I said thumbing to the bathroom door, "kinda business though."

Soon, the door opens and out pours a tall, lanky fellow and looking at him I was instantly convinced I had tennis shoes older than him.  We exchanged handshakes, visited awhile about our trips, and planned our evening's festivities.  Their main objective was to visit a grocery store and get some luncheon meats because the prices at the food court in the convention center are insane.  This made total sense to me and, since I love sammiches, I was all in on that deal.

From the precise moment we climbed into Beamer's car and for the next four days, he took command and was our GAL - our Group Activity Leader became a tyrant;  "We're gonna go here, we're gonna go there, we're gonna walk down this aisle first, at precisely 12 Noon we'll stop over there...I was amused and thought Hitler should've had him on his staff instead of Himmler.  Now that I think about it, they do look an awful lot alike.

We're in the store where the three of us are standing in the bread aisle trying to decide what type should we have and if a casual bystander was listening to us he would think we were planning a Moon landing.  I saw one of my favorites and said, "Pumpernickel?"

 "Punkernickel?!  Beamer said, "I won't eat anything I can't spell."

"Or pronounce either I presume?"  I said, pointing to the Dill Rye, "It's pump not 'punk'."

"I can't eat Dill Rye,"  Gary said, "the fennel seeds work their way under my dentures and it drives me batty."

Gary pointed to a loaf, "I-talian?"

"Only when I'm in Italy,"  I said.

"Ciabatta?"  I offered.  Both Gary and Beamer just blinked.  "It's a form of fried bread, very tasty."  Blank stares abounded.

Several hours later we were able to sit down and hammer out a treaty and capitulated on the ole tried 'n true French bread.  Next, we hit the sandwich meats section and we were just about there when Beamer began to lay out his monumental lunch plan for the following day.  "Ok, here's what I'm gonna do...I'll be having my cold pack containing the meats and cheese.  I'll store the bread in my pull-along suitcase along with some bottled water and I'll probably throw is several of them Granola bars my wife made me bring.  Do you guys like Granola bars?  I have a shit ton of them!"

"Beamer..."  I said, looking up 'n down the aisle, "it's just a lunch...they're sammiches, we're not building a Tesla Coil."

Having left the store, Beamer takes me on a sight-seeing tour.  Although Gary had seen it all before, he appeared to be totally mesmerized.  We did a drive-by at the convention center - jeepers that place is enormous - later I told Her Nagness, "Think of Ronan with a roof over it."  Indeed, even from the street and looking across a large parking lot, it was immense.  By this time darkness was almost prevailing and we went for a jaunt  from one end of the Strip to the other.  Vegas rules at night.  The lights are on, more people are out and the whole damn street is one long bar.  It's true!  You can take your favorite adult beverage outta one bar, walk entirely across the street and enter another casino or business and nobody gives a care.

We arrive back at the hotel and Beamer's stomach is crying out his throat is cut so we make plans to meet at the buffet.  This is when Andrew joins us.  Turns out he's another Geek and even had duct tape on his glasses to prove it.  We turn around and enter the buffet to find the place closed 30-seconds ago.

Well done, Beamer!  You 'n your damn sight-seeing tour!  I so wanted to try the dried-out prime rib and soggy baked potatoes."  I was beginning to see a pattern with him and it wouldn't become completely apparent until the next day.

Come the morn, Beamer goes to collect Tim from the airport and now our entire troupe is assembled.  The five of us climb aboard the shuttle bus and I notice our bus driver is an older, short stature woman and the first thing I said was, "Mind if I drive?"  Delores laughed and said, "Cute, take a seat."  Behind me, as he climbed up the steps, I heard Tim guffaw and had to reach down and grab him to keep him from falling back onto the sidewalk.  En-route Tim and I have a chance to visit a little so I get the conversation started.

"So, you're a gangster, huh?"

"No,"  Tim says, "I make stuff for hospitals."

"Sure you do.  That's what Capone said, too - stuff...stiffs.  Except for them shorts and them flip-flops, you look like one."

"I'm not a gangster, I live in Omaha."

"Ugghh, huh.  How do you explain them beady little eyes?"

"I'm not a gangster, now leave me alone or I'll rub you out."  He's a pretty big guy so I took my cue and changed the subject.

"So, you're a pimp, huh?"

Tim is an easy person to get to like and he has a great sense of humor but he has a hard time walking around without tripping over something.  The 'truck' as he called it, was Beamers wheeling suitcase and he was constantly running interference with it.

We arrive at the convention center and everyone already has their badges.  That is to say everyone except me because I'm the poster child for procrastination.  If I had gotten mine beforehand like everyone else did I would have only paid $15.00, but noooooo, since I was past the cut-off date mine was $30.00!  So, there I am, standing at the "You're too stupid to have gotten your badge earlier" counter and I see this sign:

CREDIT CARDS OR CHECKS ONLY - NO CASH ACCEPTED

"Awww, you gotta be kidding me!"  I said to the woman, "I don't do credit cards and I never thought to bring a check.  You won't take cash?"

"Nope."  Said Gail.

"You're obviously not a gangster."  I said while dialing Beamer's cell phone number.

Riinnnngggg.  "What the hell do you want now?"

"Get up here, I need your credit card."

"Awww, that's what all the sailors tell me."

I get my stinkin' badge and we all enter the first hall at approximately 10:30.  The instant we walk through the door Gary and Andrew split the sheets and left Beamer, Tim and myself as a group to begin our pilgrimage through Tool Euphoria.

Folks, there was every type of machine, tool, gadget, hardware, lumber, plywood, CAD and design software, fasteners, laser engraving...if it had anything associated with woodworking it was there.  There was even a radio controlled helicopter stand in there!  What the hell that has to do with woodworking is beyond me, but there they were.  Each tool was working and making noise all the way from huge CNC machines to wide belt sanders on down to 6" jointers.  There were company names I've never heard of and a lot of them were US companies!

I, in keeping with my Boy Scout motto, came prepared with a Fine Woodworking canvas bag equipped with carrying handles.  It's purpose was to store all the free stuff the vendors were giving away and lemme tell 'ya, there was lotsa free stuff.  In fact, me and Tim bonded together and became a cooperative where we'd each grab two of something and divvy it up.  Before long our bags were stuffed and it was about that time our GAL called for a lunch break.  We found a seat on the floor and only then did Beamer confess to being a bonehead.

"Uggghhh, guys?  I kinda like forgot to pack the bread."  He said in such a sheepish way that it wouldn't have been any different if he had said, "Uggghhh, guys?  I kinda like got diarrhea."

"Kinda like?"  I said,  looking at Tim then back at Beamer.  "Isn't that like being kinda pregnant?  We spent countless hours in the store last night discussing what type of bread to have and you kinda forgot to bring it?"

So, there we are, sitting cross-legged like we're around a campfire, only instead of charbroiled hotdogs we're enjoying a meat 'n cheese tray of rolled up Bologna, Salami and Turkey with strips of cheese and if you did it just right, the mayo, which Beamer didn't forget, only oozed outta both ends of the rolled up meat and would splash down onto our laps.  Passersby would comment on the spectacle and I distinctly heard one of them refer to us as being savages.

For me, the most intriguing and inspiring presentations were the laser machines and they came in all sizes and, aside from the power wattages, they all performed the same tasks in that they cut and etched stuff.  One of the firsts we visited was busy etching pictures onto 12" square tiles of marble.  My choice was the tile showing two wooden fishing boats and Tim's was the dog for his boy, Cole.  The vendor told us that you're only limited to your imagination and I determined right then and there that if I was to come across $85,000.00 I wasn't using that I'd get one for they are truly amazing machines.

Gary and Andrew are still AWOL so the three of us are back on the shuttle bus at 3:30 and returning to the hotel.  It was then I tell them of a furniture store Her Nagness had visited the day before in Caesar's Palace and that we should take a peek because it might have some really neat furniture ideas.  They adopted that plan faster than Congress adopted Obama's Stimulus Plan and off we went, skipping across the boulevard like school girls going to an Easter Egg hunt.

Its name is Villa Reale and it is clearly the largest store within all the Forum Shops.  I only saw maybe five or ten legitimate antique pieces and the rest were copies and distressed to make look old.  There were a lot of piece styles there I'd never seen before and caused me to wonder if they weren't someone's design child.  Upon entering the store I saw a sign that said, "We Ship Anywhere" and as a testament to that I later saw a SOLD tag that said, "Ship to Paris".  Upon reading it, I said out loud to myself..."Holy cripes!  Some asshole from Paris came clear to Vegas to buy a bogus piece of antiquated furniture and then pays to have it shipped there?  Jesus Christ but there are some dumb people walking around!"

Speaking of walking around...we're leaving the Forum Shops because Beamer just got a phone call from Gary who called to say him and Andrew are going to the buffet at the Bellagio and asked if would we like to attend.  Beamer, despite his thinness, is a bottomless pit and never passes up a meal ticket.  So, we're out the door in a flash and now we're on this wide sidewalk and at the end of it are two cast-iron pillars, which are about the height of an average sized man's crotch.  Tim is right beside me and I point up at this fountain that has Poseidon sitting proud on top of a throne overlooking a host of sea creatures.  He looks up and then I hear a loud 'CLANG'.  I look back and see Tim has gored his goods on one of the pillars.

"Good one, Tim!  You alright?"

In a voice at least two octaves lower, he said, "Yeah.  I'm fine."

I took Thursday off and went about exploring the Strip with Her Nagness and the rest of our family but I returned to the show on Friday and got some more free stuff and that's when I took first place in getting the most and best free stuff.  I went to the Delta/Porter Cable booth and was handed a card where I was supposed to visit five demonstration booths and get the holes punched then return the card and get this nice router edge guide...

and a little cooler.  I then went to the DeWalt booth (I purposely wore my outlandish yellow DeWalt T-shirt), and received a similar card and received a T-shirt.

Nahm was there and I got to meet him and, like everyone else I got an autographed picture only mine said, "Joe, All the best...you're gonna need it.".  We visited for several hours and it occurred to me that the people standing in the line behind me were growing older so just before Nahm fell asleep I shook his hand and walked over to chat with Scott Phillips of The American Woodshop.  I also held court with a buncha neat guys from Delta where we traded stories about old woodworking machines and the newer ones.  I can tell you this, I will be selling my Powermatic 66 and replace it with the new Delta up front controls Unisaw.  Man!  What a sweet machine.

Yeah, the SawStop was there and, yeah, they demonstrated the stopping of the blade with a hot dog and, yeah, it was impressive to see it live but I'd never have one - certainly not after seeing the new Unisaw.

I spent the bulk of Saturday evening running from casino to casino asking for decks of used cards to take back and give to our veteran's hospital up in Kalispell.  The pit bosses were falling all over themselves trying to collect as many decks as they could find.  For me and for them it was a small price to pay in exchange for the price our soldiers have paid so we all considered it a privilege.