I spent some time last night scanning in old pictures to send to my cousin Patti--reminders of that infamous visit in 1987 when two of my brothers and I descended on Las Vegas (where all the cousins lived, at the time) for three days of gambling and debauchery.
The cousins weren't quite sure what to make of me. I was quiet (they are talky), I don't drink much (they did--not a lot, but more than I did), I wore button-down shirts and little sweaters. I think during the shooting of this photo, my cousin Richi decided to scandalize me.
Patti, by her parents' pool. Her folks weren't rich, but I think everyone in Vegas has a pool. It's a matter of survival, in the desert.
We weren't much for gambling, any of us, but casinos were the place to go for fun. We figured out that the slot machines just inside the door were looser than the machines deeper inside and paid off quicker. You know, to lure you in.