So we spend last weekend in Las Vegas. Mostly doing the tourist thing, gawking around like children in Toyland, soaking up the kitsch and the over-the-topness of the entire architectural set up of the city. Our challenging budget dictated our stay in a slightly out of the way Hotel Casino by the name of South Pointe. A place that we really enjoyed.
Upon our arrival, we promptly checked in and were directed to our room at the seventeen floor of the main tower.
In order to accelerate the elevator delivery of the guest to the proper level the elevator where divided in two groups: one run of the mill conventional bunch traveling from the ground to the 15th floor, dispatching its load at a respectable but conventional speed. The other group was a little more of the Cap Canaveral persuasion, delivering a very well felt positive G-force on departure and a tangible negative G on arrival anywhere from the 16th floor to the nearest Space Station. To put it in highly technical terms: at first your feet and head wanted to follow up and your stomach resisted the take off then your head and feet stopped on arrival to destination but your stomach wanted to keep on going to the next floor. Amazing sensation rendered even more interesting after partaking to a few of the complimentary drinks generously circulated in the Casino proper.
It is on the second trip up that I experienced a rather Rabelaisian moment rich in speculative musing.
As we entered the elevator we were followed in by a couple of fifty/sixty something ladies. The lady next to me could have been responding to a moniker such as Flo, Bernice or other of the same class. Hot pants, net stockings, a hairdo that must have required a sizeable amount of lacquer to hold together a marvel in bouffemanship. Strong, deep, gravely voice result of decades of Bloody Marys and countless cartons of Malboros 100’s with one of those laugh sounding amazingly like the dumping of a full load of a quarry truck. What was really grabbing your attention (want it or not!) was what sailor would prudishly describe as a generous foredeck. Something reminiscent of one of those very revealing peasant blouse hiding a masterpiece of cantilever engineering propping up and containing a respectable acreage of gently undulating and fully uncovered bosom. A gentler version of Shock and Awe.
During my (very discreet mind you) contemplative phase, the elevator took off, somehow amplifying the undulation. I would swear that one could actually witness wave build up. Then my contemplation suddenly switch to a panicky speculative state when I remembered my previous experience with the deceleration associated with the arrival to the designated floor. I knew my feet and head would stop willingly, my stomach reluctantly. I also knew that my temporary traveling companions would experience the same effect, the question was: would the generous foredeck stop willingly or would it attempt to defy the deceleration and cause the poor lady to get slapped by a pair of anti-gravitational boobs?As my question was about to be answered, Jinny administered one of her mighty elbow strike to my side, redirecting my attention just long enough for me to be left with an unanswered speculation
Upon our arrival, we promptly checked in and were directed to our room at the seventeen floor of the main tower.
In order to accelerate the elevator delivery of the guest to the proper level the elevator where divided in two groups: one run of the mill conventional bunch traveling from the ground to the 15th floor, dispatching its load at a respectable but conventional speed. The other group was a little more of the Cap Canaveral persuasion, delivering a very well felt positive G-force on departure and a tangible negative G on arrival anywhere from the 16th floor to the nearest Space Station. To put it in highly technical terms: at first your feet and head wanted to follow up and your stomach resisted the take off then your head and feet stopped on arrival to destination but your stomach wanted to keep on going to the next floor. Amazing sensation rendered even more interesting after partaking to a few of the complimentary drinks generously circulated in the Casino proper.
It is on the second trip up that I experienced a rather Rabelaisian moment rich in speculative musing.
As we entered the elevator we were followed in by a couple of fifty/sixty something ladies. The lady next to me could have been responding to a moniker such as Flo, Bernice or other of the same class. Hot pants, net stockings, a hairdo that must have required a sizeable amount of lacquer to hold together a marvel in bouffemanship. Strong, deep, gravely voice result of decades of Bloody Marys and countless cartons of Malboros 100’s with one of those laugh sounding amazingly like the dumping of a full load of a quarry truck. What was really grabbing your attention (want it or not!) was what sailor would prudishly describe as a generous foredeck. Something reminiscent of one of those very revealing peasant blouse hiding a masterpiece of cantilever engineering propping up and containing a respectable acreage of gently undulating and fully uncovered bosom. A gentler version of Shock and Awe.
During my (very discreet mind you) contemplative phase, the elevator took off, somehow amplifying the undulation. I would swear that one could actually witness wave build up. Then my contemplation suddenly switch to a panicky speculative state when I remembered my previous experience with the deceleration associated with the arrival to the designated floor. I knew my feet and head would stop willingly, my stomach reluctantly. I also knew that my temporary traveling companions would experience the same effect, the question was: would the generous foredeck stop willingly or would it attempt to defy the deceleration and cause the poor lady to get slapped by a pair of anti-gravitational boobs?As my question was about to be answered, Jinny administered one of her mighty elbow strike to my side, redirecting my attention just long enough for me to be left with an unanswered speculation
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3 comments:
You could put an eye out doing that, ya know.
Yup. but think about it: why display if we are not supposed to honor the effort?
You write hoping that people will read, a bird sing hoping for an audience, a painter bare his soul in his work wanting to communicate his view, a Lady almost bare her breast and we are not supposed to look?
A human body is a godlike entity, plain or man altered, bautiful or grotesque. God help us when we stop paying attention to breast, legs, beautiful bodies, great intellect and artistic genius, and great discussion...or misplaced intensification of it. Lets be honest and admit that we are imperfect...at the image of our God. That make it much more easy to believe in him.
Off the soapbox!
Oh my! I guess you could have discretely checked to see if she had dentures (from possible other reactions of gravity)
Another great story!
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