Cab driver: “Where to?”
Me: “Um … the Quad.”
Cab driver: “Ah yes, the old Imperial Palace.”
Me: “Oh, so is there a new Imperial Palace?”
Cab driver: “No.”
T and I booked our hotel for Def Con a few months ago, looking for cheap accommodations close to Caesar’s, and that brilliance was a suite at the Quad Resort with such classy amenities as king size bed, ceiling mirrors, and “Luv Tub”. In its swinger heyday the Quad was probably something, but in 2013 it’s a little creepy, a little decrepit, pieces of carpet missing in the hallways or held together with duct tape.
But we didn’t come to Las Vegas to experience the Quad, and I think it worked in our favor to keep us out and about instead of retreating back to our room.
We staggered our arrivals this year, T going a few days before me, and I conveniently started coming down with a cold right after T left. I thought I was over the worst of it when I caught my flight, but by the time I reached the Quad I was feeling decidedly under the weather again. It worked out anyway because T had a networking event to attend that might have been a little awkward for me to tag along, so I stayed in at the Quad watching Weather Channel documentaries under the ceiling mirrors before throwing in the party towel before 11pm.
The one night of pseudo-rest did me good though, and fueled coffee and cold medicine, junk food and beer, I was able to rally for events and parties over the next few days.
However, every night, in the 4am cab line at the Rio, there was that shameful moment of admitting:
Cab man: “Where you headed?”
Us: *sigh* “The Quad.”
Cab man: *laugh* “That’s what I’m talkin about.”