Let's Catch Up, Shall We?

Since I'm sure you were wondering what I had been up to the past few months, I'll backtrack a little bit and tell you some stories.

California Roadtrip 2009 *Part 1*

Earlier this summer, my favorite companion, KC, and I found ourselves discussing theme park adventures of our youth. He recalled a time back in Colorado when he and friends would get wasted then hang out at the nearby amusement park, taking on ride after ride until the park closed. My most recent memory was several years ago when my party friends and I would leave the club around 4am, decide on the way home to hit LA for a few days, and often found ourselves on the road - sleepless and drunk - by 5am en route to Magic Mountain. It was then that I learned that KC had never been to Magic Mountain, despite being in Vegas for several years. We immediately decided that a trip to Valencia for some roller coaster excitement was in order. Little did we know this getaway would turn into an extended roadtrip!

A few weeks later, we hit the road on a Sunday afternoon in July. By this time the desert heat was blazing, so it was doubly pleasant to watch the temperature drop the further west we drove. When we reached Glendale, CA just a few hours later, we were relieved to be able to spend the evening in the 70-something degree weather.

On a sidenote, there are two things that I absolutely do not miss about California: First, the traffic; Secondly, the fact that many businesses close early in the evening puts limitations on how much fun you can have on a Sunday night. Living in Las Vegas has spoiled us with its 24-hour nature. When we arrived in Cali that Sunday, we found that most restaurants were closed, and we had to settle on eating at some chain restaurant we were less than thrilled about. Despite the lackluster meal, KC brought the fun to dinner by turning on his redneck alter-ego (later to be named "Gilbert") by talking to our waitress in his best backwoods accent, then later turning off the drawl in hopes of catching her confusion. She didn't seem to catch on from what we witnessed, but she might have been puzzled about the experience after we left.

On Monday, we got up and headed out toward Magic Mountain about 30 minutes north of where we were staying. The temperature was an uncomfortable 95 degrees when we reached the park, but we knew the heat would dissipate as the day wore on. Determined to satisfy the adrenaline junkie in us both, we mapped out the day to ensure that we hit all of the big thrill rides, with our first stop being the X2 near the entrance of the park. Sadly, the ride was shut down indefinitely, and subsequently was one of only two rides we didn't get to experience. One of the best new additions to Six Flags was Tatsu, coined as the tallest, fastest, and longest flying coaster on Earth. We literally flew on this ride - after boarding the ride in a seated position and buckling in, the platform disappeared beneath us and the seats were repositioned so that we were parallel to the ground. It was an incredible sensation flying like Superman, zooming high above. My personal favorite was Déjà Vu, a coaster that pulls you back in a ski-lift like chair at a 90 degree vertical angle then, without warning, drops you. You seem to be free-falling straight for the ground until you speed into a loop then through a butterfly. You climb into another 90 degree vertical tower, and dangle for several seconds staring up at the sky. Just when you think you've completely caught your breath, you're once again free-falling backwards into the butterfly and loop all over again. I described this coaster as the ride of my nightmares, and cursed, "Holy muther fuckin' shit, that was awesome!" as I disembarked. "Gilbert" shouted out, "Hot damn! That was hotter than a bull in the summertime!"

The fact that there were practically no lines was an advantage of touring the park on a Monday. The longest wait was for Superman The Escape, which cost us maybe 45 minutes in line. The worst part was that the ride itself is a total of 15 seconds, which came with a risk of serious whiplash if you didn't know what to expect. As we exited the ride, people laughed as "Gilbert" exclaimed, "That's it?!? I can go faster than that in mah corvette!"

One of the craziest things about KC playing this character Gilbert most of the time we were at the park is how odd of a social experiment it became. During and between rides he would throw out some of the most inappropriate remarks just to see if he could get a rise out of certain people. Surprisingly, people just laughed or were completely oblivious. There was something either very comical or retarded about a redneck who makes ignorant comments. We were really just glad that we didn't offend or get in trouble with anyone out there.

Anyway, with just a couple of breaks, we rode everything with the exception of the aforementioned X2 and Goliath - like X2, Goliath was closed indefinitely for "testing." For our last thrill, we rode Scream 4 or 5 times in a row until the dizziness took hold of me, and I had to finally had to call it quits. By then, the park was about to shut down for the night, and we were tired. It turned out to be an awesome day at Magic Mountain, and we decided that we would return for more action someday soon.

For our last scheduled day in California, I had planned to take KC around LA to check out some of the major attractions nearby before heading back to Vegas. In addition to never having been to Magic Mountain, he had only been to Los Angeles twice in the past few years - and both times he worked gigs downtown that kept him from seeing anything with the exception of Santa Monica pier. I thought that Venice Beach might be a good spot for people watching, but I completely neglected the fact that we were there on a Tuesday. It turned out to be ok anyway, since there were still a few crazy people there, and we got to walk the length of the shore through uncrowded beach. The weather was fantastic, too.

Prior to reaching Venice Beach, while stuck in traffic, I had made a quick comment how one day I would love to just drive the length of Highway 1, The Pacific Coast Highway, up the coast from Southern California all the way to San Francisco. KC turned to me and said, "Let's do it. I don't have to be at work until Friday afternoon..." I hesitated for a moment as I thought about the clothes I packed for the weekend, concerned that I wouldn't have anything appropriate for the chilliness of Northern Cali weather. After a minute, I replied, "Oh, why not! How often do we get a chance to do something like that?" Fortunately, KC overpacked a bit for this trip too, and we agreed that we could easily pick up anything else we would need on the way north.

Our last stop in the Los Angeles area was the Los Feliz neighborhood for the best carnitas tacos in SoCal, then up into Griffith Park to check out the Griffith Observatory. The observatory itself is familiar to many for its appearance in films, those of which I cannot name. It is a great place to visit for learning scientific tidbits and enjoying some interactive fun. It also provides an amazing panoramic view of Los Angeles, from the downtown area to the Hollywood Hills and the famous Hollywood sign. As the evening began to settle in over Hollywood, we left Griffith Park with a course set for the PCH, specifically Malibu. I thought a great way to close out our time in SoCal would be to drive through Malibu on PCH at sunset. It was indeed beautiful, and it was an awesome sight to peer out into the Pacific Ocean for hours from the edge of the west coast and watch the colors of the sky fade into the darkness. We made a dinner stop in Santa Barbara late in the evening, and decided to call it a night when we reached Morro Bay, a tiny coastal town approximately 120 miles south of Monterey. I distinctly remember the smell of the sea air when we reached the hotel, and the sound of sea lions in the distance just before I laid my head down to sleep at 1am in the morning.

Don't worry, there's more! Give me a couple of days, will ya?!?

Unemployment Blues: My Own Blogging Therapy

I know. You don't have to say it: You missed me. Don't worry...I'm back on the blogging train for now!

Since my last blog post, some significant things have occurred amidst all the fun little things I've partaken in. I had mentioned some organizational changes at work that took place late April/early May, which eventually demanded much of my time as pressure mounted to juggle the evolving workload. This transition involved a leadership change and ultimately an executive decision to drastically alter the direction of our company, which then led to my lay-off in July.

Surprisingly, I was not at all sad about this event, nor was I as worried as I thought I would be in such a predicament. In fact, I felt that losing my job was a blessing in disguise. In the final months I remained there, I was growing increasingly anxious to leave that position. Despite the progressive spiral of the economy and, more significantly, the decline of the Las Vegas job market, I was beginning to feel the pressure of my own ambition. The role that I held with my former employer had become one with compounding duties incongruent to my existing staff, and drastic cuts to my budget and recruitment allowances. In retrospect, my salary was inconsistent with the amount of work I was tasked with, and yet I found myself confined to a position that was unrecognized for growth potential. For the first time in years, I was feeling stifled, professionally.

With that new found freedom came a lesson. I learned that I spent too many years allowing my work in corporate America to define who I was and left an open, gaping end to who I am ultimately to become. I am a business professional...I was an analyst...I was a manager. Who effin' cares?!? When people who really know me describe who I am, they will say I am an adventure-seeker, a traveler, or even just a plain old fun person. Who ever said that analytical work was fun (because it's not)? And sure, being a boss had its perks, but I can't say that I went home every day feeling satisfied about the projects I oversaw or the politics I had to regularly deal with. Jobs blow. I hate to admit that I allowed way too many work hours to overflow into my personal time, weekends, vacations, etc, because that pay sure didn't overflow into my time in need - my period of joblessness! Granted, those jobs did pay for the nice things I have and the exotic places I have seen, and yet the work was a burden. It's sad to say, but busting our asses is the uncompromising sacrifice us average joes and janes have to make in order to survive and even enjoy some of the nicer things in life.

So now, 3 months later, it's become a constant struggle to fend off the feelings of insecurity that have mounted in what seems like an endless search to rejoin the working community. To date, several dozen cover letters, applications, and several versions of my resume have reached countless employers, only to yield one decent interview that did not result in my favor. Looking for work is exhausting, and it's a full time job in itself. Lately it has become far more discouraging, as the end of the year is fast approaching and many of those I consider prospects are on a hiring freeze for Q4. I personally know that I don't suck as an individual, nor am I a bad worker. My education, work experience, track record, and professional recommendations speak to the type of professional I am. It's only a bit reassuring that I am not in the unemployment boat alone, but I don't like to justify my joblessness with a collective generalization about the nation's unemployment rate.

The one thing that has really gotten to me lately is how much I've cut back on being social. It's a nice thing to receive unemployment benefits, but it doesn't support my party and travel habits. Watching my savings dwindle and having to turn down social invitations is a hardening reality for me. Everything must now be carefully planned and budgeted for, which is somewhat painful but I'm getting used to it. My inability to freely go out to have fun defies my happiness; I am no longer as spontaneous as I once was. I think those closest to me have noticed a change. For a while I liked to joke that I am becoming a different person, but I promise that if I seem a little out of sorts, it won't be for long. I refuse to be redefined by this situation, nor will I allow any hardship to shake who I am!

With all that being said, I'd like to take this opportunity to say, "Yo, Universe! This extended "vacation" has gone on long enough. I'm ready to get out and earn my money again. I'm ready for that cool, new job you've been waiting to send my way! Thanks in advance!"

And thanks, Readers, you have saved me several hundred dollars in therapy by allowing me to get this all off my chest. Much appreciation goes out to my loved ones too! Even if I never work again, I know I'll have the wealth of love, family, and friendship from the people in my life.

One more favor for you all: think happy, positive thoughts that I get a job soon! Thanks!

Catch Ya Later, Downtown Charlie Brown!

As a result of some organizational changes at work, Wednesday is moving day into new office space for my company. For me and my friend/colleague, Kri, today marks our last day of occupancy in the shared office we affectionately refer to as "Downtown Charlie Brown." After today, not only will we be in a new building, but we will also be in separate offices.

Kri and I have been working together for nearly 3 years, but only lately have we worked in such close proximity to each other. With my responsibilities in Product and Marketing, and hers in Operations and IT, we balance each other out quite nicely, and make a pretty dynamic team. The proof is in the pudding. We get our work done, and always do so in a solid fashion - and we're known to have our fun in the process. Kri and I have mastered productivity in a way that still allows us to not get caught up in the stuffiness of our office environment.

Since news of our move broke, we've frequently discussed the impending separation anxiety that we expect from transferring into different offices. "No More Shenanigans," has been the unspoken theme of this relocation, but those who know us best are completely aware that no wall shall break our spirit.

This afternoon, our office neighbor and friend, Todd, walked into Downtown Charlie Brown with gadgetry in hand as Kri announced to me, "I have a surprise for you! In preparation for our move, Todd's gonna hook us up with web cams!"

I often joked how weird it will be to be in an office without the ability to just spout out some random complaint/question/statement to my office mate. Rooming with Kri had made me completely independent of utilizing instant messaging utilities, and even phones. I've been able to turn to her and mouth off whatever I was thinking at the moment.

Hence, the web cams have been set up to help avert the feelings of detachment. Those web cams have already proven their worth! Once Todd got them working, Kri and I were watching ourselves dance and make faces into the web cams like kindergartners. I pointed out how the chat screen reminds me of the Brady Bunch, so we attempted to recreate our own version:

Absolutely ridiculous.

My Very Own Unsolved Mystery

What's funny about the story I am about to tell is that I just told one of my close friends that lately I've had this strange feeling that one of us would have the rug abruptly pulled out from under us. I am typically a positive person, as most can attest to, but I am cautiously optimistic when it comes to anything I come across in the course of my life.

Sure enough, at work on Friday one of our employees announced his relocation. Losing him bummed us out, particularly because business was running smoothly once he assumed a lead role. He executed his job above and beyond our expectations, and on a personal level we got to know him and ultimately grew a mutual admiration and respect for everything he did for us. We got over the sadness, however, since his move is a result of Vegas' horrible job market and his wife scored a sweet job in the Midwest. "That's life," I told him, pointing to the fact that I understood his situation and that although the situation is bittersweet for us all, it was a reality we accept. Certainly as adults we all come to the realization that life throws us curve balls, and it's up to us to deal with them the best way that we can.

Fast forward to Saturday morning, 10am. I'm cleaning my kitchen when I get my usual Saturday morning call from my mom:

Me: Hey, mom.
Mom: Hi, what are you up to?
Me: Just cleaning house. What do you and Dad have planned today?
Mom: We're going to a wedding later at 5. How about you? What are you doing today?
Me: I have a baby shower to go to, then a barbecue in the evening. Nothing too crazy.
Mom: Ok, well have fun.
Me: Of course, Mom.
Mom: Hey, one more thing. I have something to tell you...

Now when my mom says "I have something to tell you" it's usually pretty serious, so I stopped what I was doing and sat down.

Me: Ok, what's up?
Mom: You might have another sister.

My heart sank. I immediately jumped to the conclusion that my father, who I absolutely adore, had some adulterous affair that resulted in some love-child that was now attempting to encroach on my happy family. My blood began to simmer.

Me: Whaaat?!?

My mom clearly sensed my anger brewing.

Mom: Hang on. It's not like that. We received an email from a young woman asking if your dad was stationed in Hawaii in the early '70s. She is the daughter of a woman your dad was dating before we were even married.

Relief settled in, but was soon followed by pure bewilderment. If this woman is who she says she is, then why is she looking for our dad now? In all the years of my own existence, why hasn't there been any buzz of a possible long-lost sibling? I really had a million and one questions at that point but before I started asking them, I asked my mom, "How is Dad taking this?"

"Cautiously," she replied, before handing off the phone to my dad.

Dad: Hi, babe. Can you believe all this?
Me: I don't know what to believe. This is all so... bizarre.

My dad went right into telling me the story of receiving a random message on Friday that simply read:

Hi,

I am looking for [dad's name] who was stationed at Pearl Harbor in 1974.

Even if you are not that person, could you respond to let me know? Then, I could continue my search elsewhere.

Thank you so much!

Anonymously, my dad replied back with an email that read:

Please tell me the reason why you're searching for this person. Can you at least give me your parents' or grandparents' names, and where you have lived before?

The young woman replied with some startling information. She named her mother, who turns out to be a woman my dad dated before he and my mom began their courtship. And lo and behold, her birth date was a tell-tale sign that she would have been conceived right before the break-up of her mom and my dad. She included other statements that contained minor details that my dad was able to confirm.

My dad and I discussed how easy it felt to immediately accept this woman's claim based on the number of coincidences her story presented. After all, he was both single and a sailor at the time, so this wasn't outside the realm of possibility. The last email my dad had received from her genuinely expressed her desire to know more about her roots, but only as much as her biological father was willing to offer with respect to his existing life and family. I read the email, and to me it sounded sincere. However, despite all of the evidence given, my parents, younger sister, and I agreed that a paternity test would be a natural next step in this situation before anything else.

Although it's not my decision on how my dad moves forward with the position he is now in, he has asked for my input, knowing that his next step or lack of will have some bearing on his immediate family. This would change things: how and to what degree is obviously unknown. In some ways I see this as another rug being pulled out from under me and my family, and yet I have managed to stifle my emotions and put a halt to my own speculations. We are, without a doubt, a tight-knit clan and when any of us reach a significant crossroad in our lives, we call on our immediate family for guidance or encouragement. Clearly my dad is in a somewhat awkward position and I made sure to assure him - as we always do for each other - that I will support him however he wishes to get through this.

In the back of my mind, I can't help but wonder how remarkable of a story this would be if this woman is in fact my sister. For the 30-something years of my entire life, I've been "the firstborn," and for the past 27 years, I have been "the elder sister." To think that there are people out there who might not even know where they come from or who they are related to astounds me. When I was younger, I remember watching episodes on TV of Unsolved Mysteries about long-lost family members who reunited after decades of separation, and how strange I thought they must have felt about meeting a stranger with whom they shared a blood connection. Now, that could potentially be me and everyone else in my family, and it truly is a surreal feeling. Yet, if it turns out to not be that remarkable family story after all, then at least I'll have had the opportunity to record that brief moment of my family's history here.

At this point, it's a waiting game. Clearly, there are many questions to be answered on this end, but I'll be sure to post what my family and I feel comfortable with sharing as developments unfold.

Winter Celebrations

Imagine piling a dozen of your friends into a multi-car caravan and driving up to a cabin on a snowy mountain for a weekend. Pure chaos, you'd presume? Yes...and fun too! That is what I was up to last weekend, except I was actually with 13 friends who crammed into a 3-SUV caravan up to a townhome in Mammoth Lakes for an extended weekend.

This is an annual snow trip for us, designed to celebrate the approach of Spring and the end of Winter, at a venue still packed with snow and mountains we can speed down at unknown speeds on our respective boards or skis. Last year, 8 of us flew up to Reno for a weekend in Lake Tahoe, which is absolutely magnificent any season but particularly picturesque in the Winter. Our itinerary included three resort stops: Heavenly, Kirkwood, and Northstar. The conditions were not really favorable in terms of snow, but the days were pleasant and sunny, and we managed to get some good runs in. I personally liked the ambiance of Northstar, with the set up of the village and its super-cool terrain park. Lake Tahoe overall was beautiful and obviously a fun place to be year round, and a good time was had by all my travel buddies.

So back to Mammoth: There is nothing to prepare one for the enormity of this mountain. This was my first time there, and I believe my first words at the sight of this monster were "Holy Crap!" This place made the parks in Tahoe seem like hills. The timing of our trip could not have been any more perfect, too: Mammoth still had a significant snow base, we arrived shortly after a snowstorm, and there were more snow showers forecasted during our stay. The conditions seemed ideal, just what we had hoped for. We ended up experiencing a very warm day, a stormy day, a very ugly snow day, and ultimately one fantastic day of epic conditions.

This weekend served more than just a ski/snowboard purpose. We were also celebrating two of our friends' birthdays, one on Saturday and the other on Monday. With that in mind, you can certainly imagine what the weekend entailed. Here's a breakdown of how each day went: Wake up early, have breakfast, start drinking, gear up, take shuttle to mountain (which was only a few miles from our lodge). By the time we arrived at the mountain, it was usually late morning and the majority of us had a pretty good buzz going by then. "Spirited" beverages are the way to go in cold locations; they keep you warm and happy. After some runs down various trails, we would break and reconvene for lunch and cocktails, then return to the slopes for more action. Quick sidenote: There are a couple of great things to point out about our trip to this alp - first, the 11 of us who snowboard and ski stayed together for the majority of the time we were at the mountain. Usually, half the group would take off to tackle the more treacherous trails (which they eventually did), but we all ended up spending some quality time with one another. Another thing about Mammoth is that it is so humongous and the runs are so long, that it provides the variety many of us crave to get our snow fix.

Following a morning and afternoon of the slopes, with drinks in hand we would shuttle back to the townhouse, change into our swimsuits, and head to the hot tub. A relaxing soak is the best way to follow several hours of boarding, with beverages, of course. The 14 of us would hang in the jacuzzi until our beer-supply-in-tow ran out. There was always a well-stocked supply of drinks waiting for us in the townhouse. This meant that the drinking would continue through dinner, through after-dinner games, dancing, and various entertaining activities we would discover, until eventually we all passed out from exhaustion and/or drunkenness. For 4 days, we would wake up the next morning and start the cycle all over again, each day brought its own set of memorable moments, but all followed the basic routine.
One night in particular shall get an honorable mention here, at the request of my pal, Nita. After our first day of boarding, we returned to the townhouse to transition into our swim clothes. By this time in the late afternoon, I was very inebriated but still functioning normally. From what I can recall, I mentioned the possibility of soreness and pain as a result of our first day's activities, so a friend offered up a prescription painkiller as a preventative measure. I gladly accepted one, as did others, and downed it immediately with a beer. We then proceeded to the hot tub where we relaxed for a bit and continued on with pre-dinner cocktails. When we returned to the townhouse, I felt a bit funny, but blamed the alcohol. I showered and got into my pajamas, and figured I could just chill out before dinner. I ended up passing out on my bed. The last thing I remember is one of my friends picking me up from the bed and escorting me to the living room couch. Another friend asked me a question, and I mumbled back a reply incoherently (neither my companions nor I have any idea what I had said) and apparently ended up passing out again right there. Yes, it was another 408Down moment.

I was then escorted back to my room, where I slumbered for a good 13 or so hours. It was still the 6 o'clock hour early that evening when this all happened, so not only did I miss dinner, but I missed a whole night of shenanigans too. I awoke the next morning hungry and feeling like crap. I had only breakfast the day before, dozens of drinks, and a painkiller. I heated up a slice of leftover pizza as an appetizer before breakfast, and avoided my customary breakfast beers that morning. I continued to feel weird throughout the morning, but after a few runs on the snowboard, I was back in the game. I made sure to reward myself with my first of many bloody marys at lunchtime, and continued the cycle of fun again, minus the analgesic, of course. I learned my lesson...maybe. Ok, not. Hey, fun times make for good stories; drunk times make for great stories! Stay tuned!

*Photos courtesy of Todd Huish (You rock, man!)

It's Been Far Too Long...

Four weeks have passed since my last blog post. In fact, there are a couple of drafts sitting in my posting repository, both partially written during my travels. However, my days have been so packed that I had to leave them hanging. You know when you're on a roll and everything just flows as you're writing, but then that roll is interrupted and you end up losing it? That's what happened. I would go back to attempt to finish a post, and found that it lost its flavor. So then I decided to start a new post. Same sad cycle. I started writing today's post with the intention of finishing it, since I didn't want March to come and go with nothing but silence on "From the Mind of 408Down."

Work has been busy the past few weeks. Prior to my departure for my first trip a couple of weeks ago, I was all-consumed with real work (as opposed to perusing the web all day), and barely even had a few minutes to catch up on Twitter. I spent after-office hours scurrying around town on a virtual scavenger hunt for certain clothes in preparation for my travels. Not that I'm complaining about the shopping part, but overall preparation is exhausting. There haven't been enough hours in the day lately, which is ironic since the days seem so much longer since we sprang forward for Daylight Savings.

With two trips behind me, and two to look forward to, I figure that now is as good a time as any to recap where I've been and what I have been up to. Out of fairness to myself and to my readers, I am aware that our time is limited and I'm sure that I can only hold your interest for so long, so this recap is being broken up into installments. Here's Part One:

A couple of weeks ago, I took a weekend getaway to San Francisco. It was a true getaway in the sense that I desperately wanted a break from Sin City for a few days. The desert valley, brown terrain, flashy lights, and dry air tend to collectively take their toll on me over time. Foliage, fog, and beautiful scenery was just what I needed to find peace in this hectic life of mine. Debarking the plane at SFO, I was overcome with a feeling of being home as I always feel when I am back in the Bay. Within an hour, my group and I were downtown at a bar, enjoying complimentary cocktails.

Being from a party town, this concept of an "open bar" event was not new to me. The featured spirit of the evening was a vodka called 42BELOW, and it was served with tropical mixers. Quite tasty, from what I recall. Armed with a fistful of dollar bills for gratuity and an empty stomach, I proceeded to order drinks two at a time, namely a concoction on the menu called "Passion by the Bay," and henceforth I was known by some of my new acquaintances as "Passion." Luckily, the new moniker didn't stick. The last thing I need is another nickname generated from a night of excessive drinking. I did consume more cocktails than I should have that night, managed to send a few of my friends the customary drunk text, posted several drunk tweets, and took a bad spill on the dance floor that resulted in a hideous bruise on my knee. A late night (rowdy) stop at the popular Grubstake restaurant topped off that night. There's nothing like loud conversation about blowjobs and fashion over breakfast at 2am. I'm really surprised that we didn't get eighty-sixed from the Grubstake. Such nice people there.

Another day consisted of a trek to have some Dim Sum, which is oh-so-good in SF for some reason. My last trip to the city in the Fall had a Dim Sum stop included in the itinerary, but after hiking a dozen blocks, my travel companion and I arrived to find the restaurant closed - we had ended up eating pizza at the airport. That disappointment made this trip's nom session incredibly satisfying. Several steam dishes and a pot of tea later, my friend and I decided that a walk would be the best relief for our stuffed bellies. A quick drive west of our location brought us to Cliff House and the Sutro Bath ruins, where we strolled around admiring the glory of the Pacific Ocean and our surroundings until we could no longer tolerate the cold wind. Here are some of my fave shots from there:

On a different day, my friend, Jung, and I spent our afternoon at the California Academy of Sciences. Jung happens to have an annual membership there, which allowed her to bring a guest in for free each visit. If like me, you enjoy aquariums, natural history, and planetariums, this place is for you. It's sensory overload here. I felt like I was in elementary school again, on a field trip, except with no chaperons, the freedom to wander around, and the happy prospect of an afternoon beer. Even if I had to pay to get in, I would have most certainly got my money's worth.

My favorite exhibit was the Steinhart Aquarium. My love of the ocean and any large body of water has lent itself to my interest in the ecosystems they encapsulate and all living things in them. Lots of strange creatures live in or near water, and there were many to see in Steinhart. One notable tank was a large cylindrical one, about 3 feet in diameter that housed different seahorses. Some were recognizable, others looked like aqua-vegetation. They were so small and delicate that photography was prohibited at that tank since the creatures were sensitive to light. I dared not break the rules here for fear of killing a seahorse with my treacherous camera flash and anti-red eye light, so sadly I am without a photo of them. However, another favorite of mine were the Waxy Box Tree Frogs from the Staff Favorites exhibit, and I did get a picture of them to share (above left). These frogs were so cute and tiny, but they didn't move so they didn't look real. Only when you watched one closely could you see their little frog necks move from their respiration. So fascinating.

Jumping to Saturday night, three of us started the evening at the Orpheum Theater downtown to watch the musical Wicked, the untold story of the witches of the Wizard of Oz. The original Wizard of Oz movie was a favorite of mine as a child, so this musical backstory was a real treat. For those of you who haven't read or seen Wicked, don't count on me to spoil it for you on my blog. See the show or get the book. It's worth it.

That Saturday ended with the three of us theater-goers meeting up with more friends at an afterparty linked to the SF International Asian-American Film Festival happening in the city at the time. With drinks and dancing, you can all guess how this night ended...but no, I did not hurt myself this time.

So that sums up the highlights from San Francisco. Stay tuned for Part Deux of the Adventures of 408Down, March 2009 edition. It may be a day or two (or three) before you see the post, but I promise not to let this month go out too lame.

Hips Don't Lie

Since the Spring of last year, I have been following a fairly strict workout schedule and eventually added calorie counting to my regimen in just the past couple of months. The combination of both has worked wonders for me, and I am pleased with the results so far. I still have a little more work to do in order to reach my goal weight, but what has satisfied me even more include my increased energy level, a healthier feeling me, and just an overall feeling of accomplishment.

Six days a week I subject myself to no less than 40 minutes of cardiovascular activity a day, weight training, and then an abdominal routine to top it all off. I purposely diversify the cardio, sticking to running and interval training as my fundamental exercise, but I also take advantage of the spin class offered at the gym and occasionally hop on the elliptical or stationary bike for an extended workout a couple of times a week. The weight training portion of my workout alternates daily: some days I focus on my upper half, while other days I concentrate on the lower body. Too bad abdominal training hasn't become easier yet. Sit-ups, crunches, pilates, and the like have strengthened those muscles, but I am still a long way from ever achieving a six-pack. Not I really want to go that far, but if I ever do, that would be a plus. Perhaps giving up beer might help? I'm not sure I'm ready for that, so I'll just take one step at a time.

In the past couple of weeks, I've moved my running routine from the treadmill to running strictly on the track. The great thing about that is that in doing so, I've improved my pace and found my running stride. However, it appears that the surface change has put a bit of strain on my 30-something year old bod, so this week I find myself having to recover from the aches of muscle soreness and such as if I've started running for the first time. Treadmill running is far easier than outdoor or track running, and as a result of my ambition, I've thrown my back out of kilter. Has that stopped me from continuing to work out every day? Nope. My mind is inherently sadistic, and additionally because of my high tolerance for pain, sometimes what I perceive as only slight pain is really more serious. Consequently, this has been cause for problems for me in the past.

Perhaps the most traumatic injury of my young life happened to me when I was in the 8th grade. At the time, I was a member of the senior volleyball team, and we had just claimed victory over our primary adversary in some middle school league tournament. From what I recall, I was sore from the constant activity of that weekend. My lower back was causing me some discomfort, but it wasn't excruciating enough for me to stop anything I was doing. I figured the pain would eventually dissipate, which it did, but not without freaking me out first.

The Sunday following our tourney, I woke up feeling strangely stiff. I managed to get out of bed and decided to get out of my pajamas and into some regular clothes. As I struggled to bend down to put on socks, I heard and felt a loud snap, then fell to the floor. My vision blurred all of a sudden and a wave of nausea swept over me. The pain in my lower back that followed could only be described as unbearable, and I made a torturous attempt to get back on my feet, but could not do so. My immediate thought was that I was paralyzed.

Eventually my sister entered my bedroom to find me writhing in pain on the floor and immediately summoned my parents for help. I explained to them what had happened and that I could not walk nor stand up for that matter. My dad then called 911, and within several minutes an ambulance showed up. The paramedics had me retell the incident while checking my vitals and whether I had any sensation in my feet and legs. Everyone seemed relieved when I said that I did feel the EMT's tapping on my knees and feet, but still unable to stand, it was clear that I needed to be examined by a doctor. I was carefully transferred on to a gurney and loaded into the ambulance.

That was the only time in my life that I've ever had to ride in an ambulance (knocking on wood). I really don't remember much, except that the EMT who sat with me in the back talked the whole way. Maybe she was trying to keep me awake, just in case there was an undetected injury they did not know of. In any case, I remember how much I wanted to close my eyes and relax. Lying there staring at the ceiling of the ambulance did not relieve the aching in my back, and after the commotion of the morning with that emergency medical team crammed into my bedroom asking me a couple dozen questions, all I wanted was a few moments of peace. At least the ride to the hospital was brief, and luckily, the wait in the ER was short, too.

The physician who examined me was a grouchy, young man. His bedside manner was not his strong point, and my mom gave him grief for his lack of consideration. For some reason I remember his hideous bowl hair cut, but I was indifferent to his attitude as I spent the entirety in the examination room crying in agony. The ultimate diagnosis was a lower lumbar sprain which may have been a result of my carelessness in weight training topped off by the exertion of volleyball practice and tournament. I was sent home after the grumpy doc forced me to my feet for an injection of pain relief, slowly wobbling out of the hospital with a prescription for some potent painkillers in hand. Almost instantly of the shot, the pain finally started to fade out, and I was like David after the dentist that first day of medication.

Sadly, I experienced a similar situation last year after overexerting myself at the gym. There is a reason that trainers say "Moderation is key." I think I missed a couple of days from work, but got a sweet prescription for some heavy analgesics from another ER doc - this time he was a kind, handsome Middle Eastern fellow who chuckled at my joke about feeling like a granny without her walker. That recent experience was less traumatic, but taught me a lesson in listening to the clues from my body. Besides, I'm no longer a spring chicken!

As a result of my experiences, this week's aches shall not be ignored. Despite my current fitness obsession, I don't want to be out of commission for weeks. My hips are feeling out of whack, so at the advice of friends, I'm going to visit the chiropractor to see if a realignment is in order. I wouldn't mind a prescription either for some medication if it's needed, but what is important for me at this point is just to get back on the exercise track. I know I will shortly, but what this body needs is an adequate break from my regular activity, and that's what it's going to get!

It Was a Good, Productive Thursday

After work Thursday I had about 2 hours to kill before hitting Beer & Blog at the Frog (hey, that rhymes!), so I decided to forgo the gym and stop by the Fashion Show Mall for a quick shopping trip. For those of you who don't yet know, I am a self-proclaimed shop-a-holic, and so the idea of a "quick shopping trip" being about an hour gave me some (false) sense of control. On a sidenote, I have easily spent hundreds of dollars in 30 minutes at this mall of malls in the past. Not surprisingly, this trip was no exception. I entered with an explicit list of things to buy, none of which I exited with. Instead, I bought more new clothes - a new dressy top and a sexy, little pencil skirt, to be exact. To my credit, I would have tried on/bought more had it not been for the time constraint. Time simply flies when you're in a dressing room with a dozen or so outfits.

Anyway, on to Beer & Blog: Thursday was another fun-filled night at the Freakin' Frog. I've taken a liking to Warsteiner Premium Oktoberfest, a seasonal brew, despite the fact that Shiner Bock has been on tap for the past few weeks. I figured that I might as well drink up on the Warsteiner while its around. With my pint in hand, I made the customary rounds to chat it up (and take photos) with some of the other attendees.

About a month ago at BnB, I had met Hurricane Mikey, and he instantly became one of my favorite people. Mikey made an appearance at this week's social, too, so I made sure that I had some sit-down time with him since I don't see him often. Being the talented blogger he is, Mikey has taught me a bit from his own experiences. When we first met, he shared how he started blogging on a forum where people wrote about their Vegas travels. He lived in Arizona at the time, and took frequent trips to Las Vegas, and subsequently posted detailed entries about his adventures here. When he decided to branch out to his own blog, readers of that forum followed him to his site, and he ultimately built a loyal readership over a period of years. If you've read Hurricane Mikey's blog, you'll agree that he's witty and highly entertaining. He's pretty hip, too, if you ask me - and just as fun in person.

By my third pint, I was finally ready to sit, and Mikey was ready to have a talk with me, blogger to blogger. He prefaced the conversation by saying he had some constructive criticism to offer. Linda Lou, who was at the table with us, groaned a bit and gestured nervously at the introduction of this "constructive criticism." I laughed at Linda's reaction, primarily because I found it ironic that an accomplished writer such as herself would appear to have anxiety about criticism, and I was completely naive about what could potentially be said about my work. Nevertheless, I welcomed whatever input Mikey had to offer and braced myself for some serious examination. Besides, we were at Beer & Blog, and it was only appropriate that we discuss our blogs. Furthermore, I wanted to hear what someone else had to say about my work, a relative stranger, someone who didn't know much about me except through this channel of communication and a couple of in-person interactions.

As it turns out, Mikey enjoys my blog, but got the distinct feeling that I tend to hold back. He pointed out that I typically have a strong, engaging start, but often finish abruptly, and my posts are all just about the same length. I openly admitted that I am a wordy person, I love to write and especially be descriptive, but also feel it is important to be concise. Mikey encouraged me to just let go, and embrace my wordiness. It was then he dubbed me "Adjective Girl, a superhero with a gravity problem!" Hey, it was funny and completely suitable for the moment - how could I not take on such a title?!

So I took Mikey's advice, and went back to some of my previous posts to assess whether or not I could have developed my tales a little more. For the most part, each post was an abridged version of what I could have potentially wrote, had I not felt pressed for time or been just plain lazy. After some thought, what I ultimately concluded is that there are also some things that I prefer not to write, particularly if they reveal my innermost feelings or are details that seem insignificant in my mind, which seems like acceptable compromise for a blog. As a result, however, I'm feeling somewhat challenged, and of course that means I am totally game for giving the wordier me a try. This may just be opening up a whole new can of worms...

The Woes of a Vegas Commuter

Las Vegas used to be a city where it only would take 15 to 20 minutes to get to your destination from wherever you were. No such luck these days. In fact, driving from one end of town to the other is a trek in itself that most prefer to avoid. I should know. My house is in the Northwest end of Vegas, so far northwest that it takes only 20 or so minutes to reach Mt. Charleston, where the local ski resort is located. Vegas locals often refer to the Northwest neighborhood as "Southern Utah," or the even more popular "BFE."

Yes, I live there.

Just to give you all a little more perspective, I reside 25 miles away from my place of employment. The majority of days, I'm on the road an average of 55 minutes - one way. Aside from driving during rush hour, what complicates my route is that I must travel the worst two highways running through this city that are easily the most travelled by visitors and locals alike. Both freeways are poorly engineered, ill-planned considering the rate of growth in the past decade, and riddled with long-term construction obstacles. In fact, for as long as I've lived here, I can't remember a time when neither highway did not have some construction project going on.

Yes, I drive this.

Sure, I've spent some time trying to find effective detours on surface streets which have temporarily helped alleviate the anxiety of dealing with the highway traffic, but the drive time is just as long, if not longer. The trade-off is just as agonizing. The truth of the matter is, it's a lose-lose situation for me that I have come to accept (someone call the friggin' waaaaambulance). I think of other major metropolitan cities that have it far worse: my boss used to commute to work in Atlanta upwards of 4 hours everyday, round-trip; Southern California roads are perpetually plagued by traffic; and from what I hear, traffic congestion in the North East puts West Coast traffic to shame. Considering all this, my grumbling and self-pity for what I deal with on a daily basis is unfounded. However, there are days when commuting takes its evil toll on me, and I spend all day being grouchy, like today.

Yes, I hate it.

No Horsing Around Here

Since being sick the past couple of days, I've spent hours in bed catching up on the tube. Prior to, there hasn't been much time for me to watch TV. In fact, the majority of the time that I'm parked in front of a television, I'm strumming on the guitar or I'm online. The nice thing about being ill is that the immobility keeps me from attempting to multitask; I've been able to focus on one thing at a time. This means that lying in bed catching up on my favorite shows means that I'm doing just that. At this moment, I'm blogging in silence, with nothing but the throbbing of my pained head in my ears.

Back to my bed-ridden TV watching: I've discovered a new show to add to my list of favorites. It's called "Jockeys," a new reality show on Animal Planet. Now I'm not a fan of reality TV, but this series grabbed my attention immediately. The show revolves around - you guessed it - jockeys, specifically a group considered to be comprised of the world's best, based in the Santa Anita racetrack in California. Like everyone else on this Earth, these jockeys go through their own personal and professional dramas, as they all struggle to come up on top of their game in the horse-racing realm.

I called my dad as soon as I stumbled upon this show. Not surprisingly, he already knew about the series. As far back into my childhood as I remember, Dad has been a racing aficionado, and still is to this day. We used to spend days and some weekends hanging out at Golden Gate Fields or Bay Meadows racetracks in California. From those memories, I can recall what seemed like forever between races, the strange olfactory mixture of cigarettes, wet turf, and grass; the excitement that arose with each race, and the collective roar and surge of emotion from the crowd as the horses and their riders appeared from around the bend and raced the final leg to the finish line. It's really an exhilarating sport.

Lucky for my dad, I suggested we take a trip out to Santa Anita one of these weekends, for old time's sake. As a child, I didn't care for the races, but now am intrigued by the sport. Dad and I agreed that the visit to Santa Anita would be fun to see our favorite jockeys in the flesh. A little high-stakes bet here and there wouldn't hurt the fun either. In the meantime, we at least have the show to satisfy our fancy for the races.

Silly Cupid, Valentine's Ain't For Everybody

Ten Reasons Why I'm Not a Fan of St. Valentine's Day:

10. I believe in the scientific reasons for attraction. A cherub with wings armed with a bow and arrow is absolutely absurd to me. Cute, but absurd.

9. Love should be shared and celebrated every day, not have a spotlight shined upon it on a date shared with the burial of a Roman martyr.

8. Valentine's Day is a day fabricated for commercial purposes. Americans are estimated to spend close to $30 billion for Valentine's Day this year. How about pooling that money together for a greater cause, people?

7. Everyone will be out on a date on February 14th, making it impossible to eat and find entertainment on a whim.

6. Couples married on Valentine's Day share their wedding anniversary with millions of others.

5. Grooms and their brides all swarm to wed in Las Vegas on this day, thus creating tons of traffic for the rest of us.

4. Think about all of the calories in a box of chocolates!

3. The letters VD stand for venereal disease. No thanks!

2. Roses die.

1. Why spend money on a Valentine's Day greeting card when you can just blog about your love for someone?

Some Curious Facts About Yours Truly

Some of the following is weird, some interesting, and the rest is just silly. Yes, I recently got caught up in the recent Facebook craze: 25 Random Things About Me. Composing this inventory was like throwing various objects into a tank, then skimming off whatever floated to the top - 25 of which made the list. As you can imagine, this only scratches the surface of who I am. Had I given more thought to this list, I think I would have come up with a far more entertaining group of items. But then again, that just yields another open opportunity to generate a fresh list of random things for you all to read at a later time. Have I mentioned that I like lists? Well, now you know (for the count, that makes 26).

Without further ado, here are 25 random things about 408Down, Installment #1:

1. I appreciate the poetry and glory of a beautiful sunrise. Sunsets are pretty too. I take a lot of pictures of both - sometimes while driving. To the left here is a shot I captured recently on my way to work. Sights like this one often make the long commute less painful in the morning.

2. When I was a kid, I would often dance around the house imagining I was in the TV series "Fame."

3. Speaking of dancing, my childhood dance crew was called "4-D Posse." We were comprised of 4 females, each bringing our own dimension of dance to our group, hence "4-D." The "D" apparently had another meaning: we were devastating dames. Gosh, we were corny.

4. I used to have a serious aversion to cilantro because it tasted like soap to me. My tastebuds have changed as an adult apparently, because now I love it on practically everything.

5. When my mom was pregnant with my sister, she asked 5-year old me what she should name the new baby. A few of my classmates in kindergarten at the time shared the same name, which I liked, therefore I suggested the name Jennifer. These days we call my sis Jen for short.

6. Chinese food is my favorite of all foods, especially noodle dishes.

7. I love the sound of guitar music, particularly classic Blues tunes, which one of the primary reasons I own a Fender acoustic.

8. My astrological sign is Leo, and I was born in the year of the Snake. I've been told that I fit both characteristically, and I like to deny it.

9. When I am deep in thought, I have a habit of simultaneously rubbing my lower lip.

10. I was a heavy smoker from the time I was 18 years old until I decided to quit in 2004. I always knew that smoking was detrimental to my health, but my ultimate reason for cessation was purely vain: it was affecting the color of my teeth.

11. I currently own approximately 75 pairs of shoes, only a dozen of which I have rotated wearing over the past year. There are about a half dozen that haven't been worn at all.

12. As an infant, I was baptized a Catholic, but now consider myself an Agnostic. My mother would kill me if she ever read this.

13. When it comes to alcoholic beverages, I prefer beers. I like those of the lighter persuasion, but I've dabbled with some darker ales.

14. I've lived in Las Vegas now for 15 years, which by some definitions, makes me a native. I beg to differ. I was born and raised in California, and still refer to myself as a Californian.

15. The last thing that I clean during every shower is my navel. I like to think I have the cleanest bellybutton west of the Mississippi. I have no idea who might have the cleanest innie east of the Mississippi, so I'll just trust my instincts on this one.

16. Two books on my nightstand: I'm halfway through Artie Lange's "Too Fat to Fish." Warren Ellis' "Crooked Little Vein" is a new book I just borrowed from a friend, which I have yet to crack open.

17. Tiesto's Club Life Podcast #17 is my iPod track of choice for runs 30 minutes or longer. My short runs are accompanied by the Foo Fighters, Nirvana, Fuel, or Marilyn Manson.

18. My declared major when I started college was Biology, which turned out to be intensely rigorous coursework. I ended up graduating with a Bachelor of Science degree in Business with an emphasis on Management. I have no qualms about my professional career thus far, but occasionally wonder where I'd be if I stuck out my original plan.

19. My favorite sushi rolls contain tuna, cream cheese, anything tempura, or a combination of these ingredients.

20. I spent the entirety of my 20's in a relationship (and was happy to start my 30's with a clean slate).

21. I enjoy dressing up and prefer to be clad in dressy attire as opposed to casual wear. I'd choose heels over sneakers any day.

22. If money was not a factor and I had an opportunity to take on a job of my choosing, I would elect to do conservationist/ecotourism work.

23. My first dog's name was Tootsie. If I ever decide to get another dog, I'd likely adopt a little dog and give it a big, commanding name, like Captain Xavier P. Constantinople. I'd probably just call it Cap for short.

24. The furthest east I've ever traveled in the U.S. is Chicago. One of these days I'm gonna make it to the Big Apple.

25. My absolute favorite sound in the whole world is laughter. I enjoy laughing, and do it a lot, but the uproarious sound of laughter from the people in my life that I care about the most is what brings me joy.

Do Something Nice This Week: It's N.R.A.K.W.!

A friendly email from the Volunteer Center of Southern Nevada today reminded me that February 9 through 15 is National Random Acts of Kindness Week. Whether you are a local or live elsewhere, there is opportunity for you to spread kindness and generosity in your communities in your own way.

Here are some nice recommendations to do your part, courtesy of VCSN:

1. Write a thank you note to someone who as impacted your life positively

2. Feed someone in need: give your sack lunch to a homeless person

3. Donate blood to a local blood bank

4. Help your neighbor with household chores or yard work

5. Hold a food or supplies drive at work or school and donate the goods to a charity in need

6. Say something nice to everyone you encounter for one day

7. Give of your time: read to a child

8. Donate your gently used coats or clothes to a shelter

9. Plant a tree in your community

10. Volunteer your time to any cause that interests you.

P.S. Local Tweeple and bloggers: This Thursday, February 12th, Las Vegas Twestival 2009 will take place at The Beatles Revolution Lounge at the Mirage Resort. All proceeds from ticket sales will be donated to charity: water projects. It's a chance to network locally while helping out globally!

My Memory's Rendition of Gray

We've had a wet weekend here in Las Vegas. Rain poured non-stop all day Saturday, and rain clouds were scattered across the valley throughout Sunday. My neighborhood in the Northwest collected 0.30 inches, which is a significant amount for the desert valley. There were even reports of flooding in some areas. It appears that Punxsutawney Phil's prediction of six more weeks of winter may be fairly accurate. For most, this is cold and intolerable weather, but for me I really don't mind it. In fact, despite my endless desire to be on a tropical beach, the cool, damp cloudy weather is somewhat nostalgic, reminding me of San Francisco.

Mornings in the Bay almost always start under a blanket of gray, with just the peaks of skyscrapers and bridges poking out from under the fog. The air is an eerily calm and quiet mist. What is great about this image is that by late morning, the fog lifts to reveal a bustling, beautiful metropolis that is in full motion by this part of the day. The transition of post-rain desert isn't as idyllic as this, but it paints its own picture of tranquility nevertheless. In either case, both are impressions that I have delicately framed in my mind that I am sure I will again revisit on another gray day.

Image from SFBAYIMAGES.com

Facebook Turns 5

Back in June 2008 is when I joined Facebook, and didn't really get into it until the past few months. My FB logins far surpass my MySpace visits now simply because it seems to require less maintenance on my part, allows me to maintain a desired level of privacy, and lends itself to users' individuality without the obnoxiousness you see on MySpace. Facebook has arguably become known as the MySpace for the more mature generation. In any case, it serves us well in keeping people connected and even bridges us with people from our past.

I had no idea that Facebook has been around for 5 years now. MySpace had been dominating the social networking sector for the everyday American since 2006, until it was surpassed by FB in 2008 as the most popular social networking site internationally. Not a bad accomplishment for a networking tool that originally linked Ivy League students exclusively.

Happy Birthday, Facebook! If it were possible, I'd SuperPoke you right now and throw some birthday cake your way. At least in the virtual world of Facebook, that is possible.

A (Somewhat) Brief Word About My iPhone Obsession

Just a couple of days following my prior post that described my frustration with my old Razr, I took a leap and bought an iPhone 3G. First impression? The iPhone is the bee's knees. In fact, by day 2 I was hooked.

Transitioning from my antiquated phone to the more advanced one took some time, but I finally got the hang of things. I totally appreciate the touchscreen and easy interface, but most of all I love the options that the iPhone applications bring. Installing TwitterFon and Facebook first were my top priorities. Soon after I added Pandora to satisfy my music requirements, followed shortly thereafter by the Weather Channel app and USA Today because I like being in the know. Shazam is handy for those moments when a great song comes on the radio, and I want to know who sings it so I can buy it on iTunes later.

My newest app obsession is Lose It!, a free weight loss tool application. With it, I am able to log my exercise and calories burned along with my caloric intake by meal. Furthermore, it allows me to track my weight loss and gives me a preview of when I could potentially reach my goal weight based on my eating and exercise regimen. It's definitely my favorite app at this point in time!

So back to my general affinity for my iPhone: it's my alarm, my appointment keeper, my note-taker, my weatherman, my web connection, my portable entertainment (It even distracted me for an extended period of time during the Superbowl!). You get the picture. I don't know how I've gone this long without it!

The Origin of "408Down"

It's not your typical alias, I know. I get a lot of guesses from SF Bay Area people familiar with 408 as the area code for greater San Jose and the surrounding area. Coincidentally, I spent a huge chunk of my childhood in that section of California, but that's not the reason for the nickname.

I've held off on writing the background story on 408Down for the reason that I had intended to post the tale on the anniversary of. We're about 8 months away from the third year since that night, so what better time than now to recount that story.

October 10, 2006: During work, a few of my co-workers and I discussed the idea of going to a club later that night. Obviously, this is typical weekday consideration for young Vegas professionals, so the idea of partying on a weeknight was not out of the ordinary. My sister tends bar at a local nightclub, so with access to the VIP line, the destination was immediately decided upon. The remainder of the day consisted of gathering more colleagues to join in on the fun. There weren't many takers, as it was a Tuesday.

10pm: Four of us met at Caesar's Palace, ready to party. We fought through the crowd that had already amassed at the club entrance, made our way to the front to let the bouncer know that we were on the list, and made our way in victoriously ahead of the mob. Of course we immediately made a beeline for the bar my sister was working.

I will say that having a sister who is a bartender is dangerous (that should be Dangerous! with a capital 'D' and exclamation point). She served us vodka mixers, where 98% of the drink was pure alcohol and the rest of the drink was literally a splash of either Red Bull or cranberry juice. Every sip was painfully strong, and yet we each managed to consume a few of those drinks between Jagermeister shots.

October 11, 2006: By this point we lost a party pal who decided to turn in for the night so that he would still be able to go to work at 7am. Smart guy. The remaining crew continued to dance and drink a bit more. When we realized that perhaps we should call it a night the time was close to 1:30am.

As we exited the club and cut through the casino, we all sensed our inebriation, and also decided that a quick trip to the potty was in order. The nearest restroom was located an escalator down from the casino area and had its own lobby area, equipped with benches and a shoe shine area. After finishing my business in the ladies' restroom, I returned to the lobby area to find my companions patiently waiting for me. This is the moment I decided to sit down for a quick break, and ended up passing out on the floor.

We were all pretty wasted from what I recall, but clearly, I was tanked. After ending up on that lobby floor, I don't remember much. The rest of this narrative is based on my friends' accounts:

Prior to passing out I told my pals that I just wanted to rest for a sec, and apparently continued to tell them so for about a half hour each time they attempted to get me to get back on my feet so we could exit the casino. I was so drunk that I remained unmoved.

A hotel security officer eventually showed up and advised my companions that they needed to get me out of there. My friends swooped me up by both arms, and practically carried me through the casino. Meanwhile, the security officer who was on the scene first followed closely behind us, summoning back-up on his radio with "We've got a 408 Down here, 408 Down exiting the casino."

I didn't go to work that morning for obvious reasons. However, my friend, Matt, took it upon himself to impart our previous night's adventure in gross detail to colleagues who would find interest in our tale, making sure to emphasize that the casino code for drunken, unconscious female is "408 Down." Many were entertained by the story, and it didn't help that I had a developing reputation as a party aficionado which I had long tried to keep under wraps. Word spread quickly about that night and consequently, the name stuck. Even one of the executives got wind of the story, and often greeted me with a spirited "408 Down!" every time I passed his office.

The moral of the story is: beware of excessive drinking nights. Friends may never let you live those moments down.

Yes, the image you see here is from that night of the 3 of us being escorted out. Good times.