Life Choices

The flashing lights of Downtown Las Vegas almost blurred together creating a directionless path to eternal darkness. Grant was overstimulated by the plethora of enticing vices that seemed to call out to him... which they were on occasion.

"Hey Mac, wanna see a show?"

Grant stopped, pulled out a partially crushed parliament out of the even more partially crushed pack wedged deep into his jeans pocket.

"Come on, man. You have GOT to see this."

He light his cigarette with the last remaining match in the matchbook he found in the pack, making a mental note to buy a kitchy lighter somewhere at one of the many souvenir shops lining Fremont, even though he knew he wouldn't remember.

"Yo, are you even listening?"

He flipped them matchbook over, recognizing the repeated words Circus Circus, as if trying to jog his memory as to when he was even there. He took a drag and used the same hand to scratch a non-existent itch on his temple, as if that helped push the wheels in motion when he felt an aggressive tap on his shoulder. Startled, he turned around, already forgetting about finding fire. "Huh?"

An short older man, maybe in his early 50s, was standing there, gawking at him impatiently. "I said, are you interested in seeing a show?" The tone and gruffness of the voice did not match the person which it came out of. "I guarantee it'll be like nothin' you've ever seen before."

He took a gander behind the gentleman, searching for clues as to what or where this show was, but all that was there was a hole-in-the-wall taco joint, already lined with drunken Vegas tourists eager to make bad choices. "What is it?"

The older man clapped his hands together, silently celebrating the potential of a job well done, "I think a better question would be what ISN'T it. And that's not a question that be easily answered either as this show has a bit of EVERYTHING!"

Confused but appreciative of the attention and oddly a moment of clarity from the overstimulation of the nightly block party, he took another drag and engagingly smirked, "You're gonna have to do better than that."

The man put an arm around Grant, as if the two has been friends for decades. He smelled of stale beer and a touch of B.O., which, unlike the voice, did fit the persona of the mysterious man to a T. "Well, lemme ask you something. Are you happy with your life?"

Grant was confused by the question. "Huh?"

The man slightly tightened his grip around Grant's shoulders, prompting Grant to keep a close feel on his pockets to make sure he wasn't being pickpocketed. "I asked are you happy with your life?" He smiled confidently, showing a set of pearly whites that stood out against the rest of the man's crude appearance.

There was something about this character that piqued Grant's curiosity. He was unquestionably brash but also allocated far more of his attention span to just one of the thousands of blank faces that walked in front of him. He felt oddly at ease in this man's presence even when most would feel intimidated and probably anxious to get away. It was as if this man, whoever he was, was sent specifically to search him out. He wasn't sure if this was necessarily a good thing or not, but, as is the case with Vegas, you take risks to seek out answers. Answers to questions you may have not even been asking.

"I don't know," was all he could mumble. "Does that have anything to do with whatever it is you're selling me?"

"Buddy," he slapped his leg with his free hand, laughing at what he thought was the funniest joke he's ever heard. "I'm not trying to sell you anything. I just want to know if you're prepared to explore the unknown. To take yourself out of a comfort zone you've been nesting in for far too long."

"What do you know about me and my life!?" He was rapidly getting defensive against a stranger who was speaking more truth than he was willing to admit.

"Well, young man, I know you've been pondering where your life is headed and that you aren't necessarily thrilled about the outcomes that lie ahead."

Grant pushed away from the man, "That's a pretty vague assumption that probably fits 99% of the people walking around here." Secretly he knew the man was right, but didn't want to give into the satisfaction of this obnoxious carny knowing him without having ever met him.

"True, but you've been here for, what, five years now? No one could possibly be happy selling insurance in Vegas for that long." The man seemed to know Grant on a far more personal level than Grant felt comfortable with, obviously. Still, he wasn't scared, just intrigued.

"I'm not going to ask how you know so much about me," Grant resigned. "What is it you want?"

The man leaned into Grant's ear, as if offering a secret that no one else could be privy to. "I'm offering you an opportunity to find yourself. To seek out the happiness you so desperately crave, even if you don't know how." He leaned back out and returned to his boisterous self, "All you have to do is say the word and I'll take you on a journey that you've been too afraid to go on by your lonesome."

He thought long and hard about his past and all the fucked-up decisions that he made that led him to this point in time. He thought about the days he spent glaring at himself in the bathroom mirror, disappointed, watching his face age with every poor choice. He thought about the nights he spent wide-eyed, staring blankly at the ceiling fan above, twisting lackadaisically, mocking his own drive and determination, the sounds of the air being lightly pushed in all directions, like his thoughts. He thought about the decisions that brought him there this very night, and how he doesn't even remember how he got there, like magically being transported to a place in a dream without any cause or justification as to how they got there. Conflicted, he grabbed for another cigarette, remembering that he had no way to light it and put it back in the crushed pack. He remember the now-discarded matchbook and whether or not he was at Circus Circus tonight, or any night for that matter. Nothing seemed to make sense, except for what this strange man was saying, which, was probably the most non-sensical part of this whole enigma.

Yet still, he wanted to know more. Maybe this is what he wanted. Maybe he needed someone to slap him across the face and tell him to stop wasting time consumed with regret and despair. He could either return to his place and repeat the same miserable process over and over or he could do the unexpected and trust this random fellow who ordinarily would have no reason to be trusted. He turned around to look at the unauthentic glitz and glamour of his surroundings, the flashing lights no less blinding and discombobulating than they were before. He observed the faces of those that passed and the sheer amount of discontentment he could see, clear as day, was something he never noticed before. Perhaps he was too preoccupied with his own sense of displeasure to realize he wasn't alone. He didn't want to do this anymore. He didn't want to be devoured with uncertainty. He was ready to evolve.

He smiled and quickly turned back around to the old man. "You know, I think I will..." But when he turned around the man was gone. Vanished into thin air. He looked in all directions, seeing if this man maybe slinked off to find someone else. 'Maybe another sucker,' he thought, and for a second Grant felt like he had been duped and got angry, until he looked down and saw a single piece of paper, an airplane ticket, for a flight leaving in 3 hours with his name on it...

The Vegas lights suddenly seemed as if they were flashing in synchronicity, pointing him in a single direction, on a directionless path.