Cory W

please move on. I wrote this for my personal site, out of frustration:

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Before my decent upon Vegas, I established the idea that 2005 would be a different one. I felt as though I could do better, achieve more and feel better all around. I pre-empted the Vegas trip, two weeks prior, by contacting an investment specialist real estate agent in Las Vegas. I drove out two weekends before to meet her for lunch and see what I was dealing with. I was excited, the thought of buying rental property not only excited me, but motivated me. So I set out a plan as follows: I would go ahead and contact the mortgage broker and shoot for a pre-approval, got to Vegas and decided not to deal with the r.a. or broker and just do my job. I would also quit smoking after Vegas, on that friday that I drove back and get back into the shape I was in in 2004. So I called the R.A and broker, told them that I would be unavailable until the week was over and they could each expect a call back that following Monday. This made sense, when I am at the show, my phone is constantly ringing, I wanted to reserve it for webmasters, organizers for the Cristal Party, coworkers and industry contacts. Most calls are channeled through me, it is my job.

Then, with what seems to be an enlarged swelling of the bad luck gland, a demise began. It is as follows:

The first day of the show, I started off with a wicked sickness. I could not pinpoint what exactly was wrong, but a cough developed and I began getting extremely tired, as well as experiencing mild naseue for no good reason. I vomited a couple times during the show to feel better. I remained, however, vigilant.

The second day of the show the sickness remained, and that night a small gathering of Weg and G3X webmasters showed up at the spearmint rhino. Being hosbitable, I used the corporate card to cover the drink tab and a dance or two for our loyal webmasters. Towards the ending of the night, the stripper, very attractive that had flanked me for hours, sitting at our table making conversation with everyone, decides to ask me if I would like a private chair dance. I comply. The dance, $400 for one hour. Because this specifc dance is for me, I turn over my Citibank Debit LLC mastercard. This card rebills things like my company hosting, domain names and even my cell phone, so that I can better grasp taxes. The table host comes over to the table and tells me that the card has been declined. Honestly, it should not have. So I throw a look of curiosity at the host, he looks back and says, "sir, let me try again." Between another company and myself, our tab was already decent. Host comes back, says you are good. Falling asleep during the dance, I sign the Weg and LLC receipt.

The next morning I awake around 10am. Today is big. The Cristal Party is that night. I walk out of my room and immediately make calls. But something is wrong, other than my being even more sick, the cell phone is down to 1 bar. If you have ever been to Internext, you know you can stay out of your room for 12 hours at times. I return to the room. The wall charger is broken, the phone will not charge. Time is pressed, I go to the floor, making throughout the day making as few calls as possible.

Tough task, limiting calls. Our Cristal Party models call a few times, among others, and need to confirm arrangments. Phone is displaying one bar. So I decide to run over to a shop, located outside the store, and purchase Cristal needs. The LLC card, declined. They do not accept american express. I meed to call my bank, or our owners. Phone dies. So I decide that I need to go pull my Tundra from the Valet, and sit and charge the phone. T minus 1 hour until Cristal limos and models arrive. The valet loses my car. They do a manual search of the lot. 45 minutes later, and after a slight abnormal tantrum on my part, Tundra is pulled up. I sit in it. Charge the phone for 5 minutes. I then call Greg to give him the update. Phone rings and directs to a cingular employee. After holding, battery on the brink of death once again, and my body under anxiety, a revamped cough, she says, "sir, your business card was declined on the phone. You owe us (cingular) $120."

You would think it could not get worse. I patiently give her the regular checking card (personal), she reactivates, the phone dies when I call Greg. T minus 15 minutes until the arrival of limos. I go back to my parked, running truck, and charge it, while making calls. Before I call Greg, I get a message from Citibank, "please call us immediately." Well damn me. I call them, Apparently S and H hospitality, or the Spearmint Rhino to those not Vegas night life literate, charged over 4k to a cash LLC card, draining and putting the card in the negative. 15 minutes transpire, refund will happen in 2 days.

Call Greg again. We are set I tell him. I am coming up. On my way up, the phone dies. This is bad before you are getting people on transportation. So I wing it. Luckily, many people made way down in confidence of their VIP cards.

Thursday comes around, it is the final day of the show. My sickness increases as the cough worsens, bringing on Insomnia the night before. My LLC card remains negative, bills began being returned. I do not panic. I move money from my House savings account, something I personally agreed with myself to not do, into the LLC account.

The next day arrives. My illness worsens and the insomnia continues. I open the drapes at Mandalay and say to myself, "I need to leave this god forsaken place;" I pack and the bell boy comes up to visit me. My phone is dead, a coworker calls for a flight time, she is greeted with a one ring message. Once downstairs, I joke with the lady at the desk, during checkout, that I need to leave. She smiles. I am in good spirits. Time to go home, go to the doctor, not smoke, live life. This all changes, moments later, when the concierge or the reservations host that stands atop a 6 inch pedestal, approaches me. This is what she says:

"Sir, I overheard you telling Eileen, our Reservationsist expert, that you will need your car pulled up from the Valet. Your address for billing is Irvine. Is this true?"

"Oh no," I thought,"the new Corporate Amex I used is under the Florida billing office!!!" My heart raced. My phone did not work, so calling our office assistant would be impossible and I did not have that address.

"Yes. that is correct."
I replied, alowing my countanance to sink into a look of defeat. I had no idea, but things were actually about to get worse.

"We are warning those LA bound by transport of automobile that talk of closing the Cajon Pass is stiring. We believe that the conditions maybe dangerous. We are suggesting you stay another day, maybe two. They are calling it the Perfect Storm."
She said with the professionalisim and gentle tounge that doctors use when they tell a relative that Uncle Bob has died.

So now, the phone is dead, the Cajon Pass is a risk I can't take because I have a passenger, all Vegas rooms are sold out or very expensive, and my cough is terrible. So I go to the bar, get a coffee. I run into SAK and Roger from Pornkings. Roger takes sympathy on me and allows me to sit upstairs and rest. He offers his room for the night, but I do not want to intrude, so I finnaly find another room, booking for two additional days.

I move over more funds, hesitantly, to survive yet two more days. Maybe I could have made it? Is the risk worth it? Especially with a passenger? On Sunday, the sun comes out over the Tropicana, possibly the worst hotel on planet earth. The drive back takes around 6 hours and that night, I sleep like a baby to the rain. I think about my non-smoker life ahead. A new condo! I awake the next morning. The sun beams through my window. I cough, but so what. But something was not right. I am not sure what that could be, but my eyes hurt when I looked at the OC skyline, facing east from Newport. Dressed, dog not walked, I approach the window.

Newport had flooded. Everything. A river of several feet of water streamed down into my garage, where my Tundra was located. The dog is unable to go out, so I am left no choice but to allow him to crap inside. I am frustrated. After I pick up his feces, I now understand that the flood presents three major issues:

1) My feet are doomed.
2) I must get down around the garage to throw away the bagfull of pug poo.
3) Rumors begin to spread that in fear of the tide the next morning, Newport will have to evacuate.

I walk barefoot to my truck, dry off as much as possible, put shoes on and deal with wet feet all day, and of course, this strange cough continues.

I catch a break, Newport drains and the rains let up. We are now on track. Well, of course, until three days ago.

I come down with Bronchitis. But, I remain vigilant and leave the Weg offices early. I go to the doctor. I get a drug called Tequin. Doctor tells me that I will feel great in 2 days, but continue to take it.

As of tonight, it has been discovered that I am having a severe allergic reaction to the meds. I am now experiencing: severe nasueu and vomiting, hives, dizziness (it is tough to walk across the room), diareah, and my throat is mildly closed up, causing breathlessness.

I can't wait until things get back to normal. Funny how you fight through everything to achieve things like health and real estate, and waves of dismal irony chop you down.

If you made this far, you are impressive.

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