Vega$ Night
Wednesday night I had the opportunity to go on the chamber of commerce Vegas Night on the Scotia Prince. I unfortunately took this opportunity. For those of you unfamiliar with this sort of activity, the premise of the evening was that, for a donation, the sad sacks of Portland would get to cruise out into international waters and gamble. For those afraid to gamble and get nothing, there were both silent and very vocal auctions where you were guaranteed to get something if you dropped an appropriate wad of cash. My role in this was as an agent provocateur - I got in with a complimentary pass provided by my wife's employer, and had no intention of gambling, auctioneering or drinking $7 Budweiser (the beer of choice for Maine's big spenders).
So what did I do? I sat with my wife and cruelly mocked the other guests, the performers, the decor, the people heaving over the side, and anyone who we overheard talking. Did you ever notice how lame and inconsequential most conversations are? Have you ever sat or stood quietly in a public space and listened to the people around you? it's sad. Last night I heard a group discussion that went something like this:
Enlightening.
I was also treated to a "teaser" production by three of their rotating performers. A say "teaser" because they were showing only a hint of the talent they possessed. I was yelled at (not personally mind you - I think it was her "style") by a female cabaret screamer who sang an old song about Sara Lee cakes by Kander and Ebb. I was dazzled by the worst ever Steve Martin impersonator/dime-store Magician, and wowed by a group that I believe call themselves The Ray Stevens Performers. I am pretty sure they call themselves performers because they can neither dance nor sing, but they are on stage, thus, performers. I was upset that none of the three songs they "performed" was "The Streak".
And yet, all was not lost. For an announcement was made; Elvis would be performing shortly. After the joys that were the Ray Stevens Performers, I was afraid that Elvis would continue this horrible trend - though maybe if I yelled loud enough he would play "The Streak". I was in for a HUGE surprise when Elvis took the stage and it was Robert Washington. Wearing the early 70's jumpsuit, light on rhinestones, big on attitude, Mr. Washington tore the place up. He is Elvis. He has the moves - even the way he stands is Elvis; he has the voice - with the power and range Elvis never got any credit for. Robert Washington is one of the stars of the documentary Almost Elvis and is a long time Mainer and employee at Bath Iron Works. He is the number two Elvis impersonator in the world, and the crowd on the Scotia Prince treated him like he was the tenth best Elvis in the room. It was criminal, plain and simple. If Mr. Robert Washington cruises into your town (he was in Boston for a benefit last week), attendance is mandatory. Even if you're not the biggest Elvis fan (which is criminal in itself), he lays it all on the line, sweating, singing, dancing and lovin' the ladies.
But the cruise had to end, and Elvis had to leave to get ready for work at the shipyard in the morning. I left behind the overheard conversations, the staggering booze-hounds, and the clear plastic strips attached to the walls with double stick tape (I told you the decor left something to be desired). I took with me only Elvis, and his cover of "Bridge Over Troubled Water".
So what did I do? I sat with my wife and cruelly mocked the other guests, the performers, the decor, the people heaving over the side, and anyone who we overheard talking. Did you ever notice how lame and inconsequential most conversations are? Have you ever sat or stood quietly in a public space and listened to the people around you? it's sad. Last night I heard a group discussion that went something like this:
OLDER GENT: Ah, now. Should we...?
OLDER LADY: Is that what? I want the casino!
YOUNGER GENT: Ah, yes. Should we...?
YOUNGER LADY: Indeed, how nice.
OLDER LADY: How do YOU know where the casino is? I want the casino!
YOUNGER GENT: Ah, now. How nice.
ALL: Ah, HA, Ha, ha ... yes.
Enlightening.
I was also treated to a "teaser" production by three of their rotating performers. A say "teaser" because they were showing only a hint of the talent they possessed. I was yelled at (not personally mind you - I think it was her "style") by a female cabaret screamer who sang an old song about Sara Lee cakes by Kander and Ebb. I was dazzled by the worst ever Steve Martin impersonator/dime-store Magician, and wowed by a group that I believe call themselves The Ray Stevens Performers. I am pretty sure they call themselves performers because they can neither dance nor sing, but they are on stage, thus, performers. I was upset that none of the three songs they "performed" was "The Streak".
And yet, all was not lost. For an announcement was made; Elvis would be performing shortly. After the joys that were the Ray Stevens Performers, I was afraid that Elvis would continue this horrible trend - though maybe if I yelled loud enough he would play "The Streak". I was in for a HUGE surprise when Elvis took the stage and it was Robert Washington. Wearing the early 70's jumpsuit, light on rhinestones, big on attitude, Mr. Washington tore the place up. He is Elvis. He has the moves - even the way he stands is Elvis; he has the voice - with the power and range Elvis never got any credit for. Robert Washington is one of the stars of the documentary Almost Elvis and is a long time Mainer and employee at Bath Iron Works. He is the number two Elvis impersonator in the world, and the crowd on the Scotia Prince treated him like he was the tenth best Elvis in the room. It was criminal, plain and simple. If Mr. Robert Washington cruises into your town (he was in Boston for a benefit last week), attendance is mandatory. Even if you're not the biggest Elvis fan (which is criminal in itself), he lays it all on the line, sweating, singing, dancing and lovin' the ladies.
But the cruise had to end, and Elvis had to leave to get ready for work at the shipyard in the morning. I left behind the overheard conversations, the staggering booze-hounds, and the clear plastic strips attached to the walls with double stick tape (I told you the decor left something to be desired). I took with me only Elvis, and his cover of "Bridge Over Troubled Water".
Like a bridge over troubled waterThank you very much.
I will ease your mind.
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