Obligatory flexing of nerd muscles as I glom onto the wireless at the airport. Interncontinental (I refuse to call it “Bush”) has finally added wireless Internet in the terminals for general consumption.
It’s a fee based system. Sign up for an account and off you go. Normally I would head over to the row of chairs across from the President’s Club and hook up there cuz it’s free, but the terminal I am departing from is off in the new section and it is not so easy to get to from here.
Despite what they show on TV, Vegas is more of a haven for blue-haired old ladies than it is for the young, good looking jet set. A people-mover just deposited a batch of senior citizens I can only assume are off on a gambling junket to the glittering mecca of nickel slots and cheap booze.
Hopefully I will return with much swag from the vendors. Who knows, maybe I will even get my hands on the covetted pink Razr. Won’t you be SOOOO jealous? *snicker!
My flight leaves in an hour. I think I will wonder over to the local concession for some overpriced coffee and an expired pastry of some kind.