It’s official, I’ve got a Vegas apartment AND sunburn. The apartment is on the Westside, two blocks from a Borders Books, and the sunburn is along my forearms.

I’m staying with a lovely and charming English model and her placid cat, who didn’t seem to even notice when I was petting her.

As the English would say, cheers to my mom, Counselor Linda, for driving me across the country and helping me find a place. She definitely went above and beyond the call of duty here.

I’ve just been here a week, and already I’ve met two fellow magicians, both at the bookstore. I’ve also met a handful of Las Vegas stereotypes from all walks of life. (Hi guys!)

This weekend my high school friend Andrew (the guy who stars in the B horror film series 30 Days of Night: Blood Trails) is visiting from Los Angeles, and we’re planning to hit up the club scene. Let’s see if I can use my magician/lawyer skills to get in without paying…

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Last night I had a lovely impromptu dinner in the Palms Hotel food court with my mother and two prostitutes.

I walked up to them and said, “Hi, can my mom and I join you for dinner,” and the white one said, “Sure.” During the course of dinner, the black one told me that she had been in jail 10 times in the past 6 months, and the white one talked business with an attorney from Australia.

The better negotiator: her.

They told me they had lots of good stories for my book and would be happy to share. We exchanged phone numbers. I’ll keep you posted. I just hope they realize that I’m serious about the book thing and not looking to be their pimp/next customer.

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My mom and I made it to Las Vegas. Finally. Five nights and six days. Yes, we took our time and did a few detours (some accidental, some not), but we got here. Had some drama in Flagstaff, Arizona, where I almost drove over a PERSON who was LYING IN THE ROAD. Close, close call. My heart is still racing.

More drama yesterday when I saw a real 3 card monte game. (Actually, it was a shell and pea game, but nobody calls it this). This is an illegal con game, and it was taking place right there on the strip. Eventually, I figured out who the lookouts and shills were. So I started talking with one of the shills, telling him that I was a magician writing a book on deception and wanted to ask him some questions, that I wasn’t with law enforcement, and he ignored me, and then told me to mind my own business, but then, after a bit polite persistence, he opened up to me. He used to be in construction in Michigan. But after the economy turned, he moved to Vegas and found himself conning people on the strip.

Somebody gave a signal that the cops were coming, and the game broke up real fast.

I know, it all sounds cliché to be believed.

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