Life (like poker), when it comes right down to it, is really just a series of bad decisions, isn’t it? The ones you make, and more importantly the ones you don’t make, inform the quality of your life. And we all make bad decisions from time to time. Remember that cute drunk girl at your brother’s wedding who later turned out to be your second cousin?

Anyway, today I made another one of those.

So I’m in LA meeting with all these agents and managers, nice people everyone of them. We’re talking big muchers here, smarty-pants power-brokers, Hollywood dream-spinners. And each time I leave one of their offices (as I’m checking to see if my wallet’s still there), I mention in every case that I’m planning to drive to Vegas this afternoon as opposed to fly. Four hours of pure relaxation I thought, tunes blasting, wind in my hair… oh wait… wind on my scalp, not a care in the world, right?

Well do you think even ONE of these bottom-feeders had the decency as a left their places of business to say “Whoa there Shmooksie” or “hold up there Toronto-Boy, do you have any idea how long it’ll take you in traffic to just get out of LA on a Friday afternoon?” If they HAD asked that question, my answer would have been “no”. But they didn’t ask and so I had to find out the hard way. NOW I know the answer. Wanna know? THREE HOURS! That’s the answer! So the 4 hour drive was actually a 6 and a half hour drive. You’re thinking about the nice scenery though aren’t you? Cacti, Tumbleweeds, authentic ghost towns, Arby’s. That’s what I was thinking too.

But let me tell you about the desert in the dark. It’s black. It’s black-on-black with a tinge of black. So what do you do for 6 and a half hours? Do you listen to the classic rock station and sing at the top of your lungs to songs that you haven’t heard in twenty years but somehow still know all the words to (YER MAMA DON’T DANCE AND YER DADDY DON’T ROCK ‘N’ ROLL!)? You betcha do. Do you listen to the Friday night Christian sermon? Uh-huh. Do you hear the same news item ad nauseum….Tiger Woods said he was sorry. Star Jones comments on Tiger Woods saying he’s sorry. Muhammad Ali comments on Tiger Woods saying he’s sorry. The late Howard Cosell comments on Tiger Woods saying he’s sorry… OH. MY. GOD.

This, my friends, was a bad decision. Let’s hope that’s out of the way though, and tomorrow I’ll make better ones.

The Venetian is beautiful though and its an all-suite hotel (although as my lovely wife Ruth likes to say “What’s the fun of having a suite, if everybody has one!?”) It’s on the 16th floor and on the plane I was in row 16. Well, you know that 16 just happens to historically be my hockey number as it is my son Hank’s (except for this year when Dylan Wagman snatched it right up from under us simply by virtue of the fact that his dad Jeff is not only the coach but the sponser of the team, although I grudgingly have to admit that Jeff is an excellent coach and Dylan is having a very good season, damn him). Anyway all those 16’s? It’s kismet, no?

Tomorrow at noon we find out.