For many women, February means candy hearts and flowers for Valentine's Day, but for some women, the month of February brings a different V-Day - a movement to end violence against women.
Started ten years ago by feminist Eve Ensler, V-day (www.vday.org) has grown from a national to a global campaign to increase awareness and raise money for anti-violence organizations. V-Day generates broader attention for the fight to stop violence against women and girls, including rape, battery, incest, female genital mutilation (FGM) and sexual slavery.
Largely done through creative events such as spoken word, plays and films, local activists and college students participate in the events. In 2008, over 4000 V-Day benefit events took place produced by volunteer activists in the U.S. and around the world, educating millions of people about the reality of violence against women and girls.
I recently attended one of these events when I saw The Vagina Monologues performed by University of Michigan students on campus. The Vagina Monologues were a result of several interviews conducted by Eve Ensler and others of various women from different backgrounds, cultures and socio-economic status. The interviews resulted in stories of all kinds - some that made me laugh out loud like the elderly woman who had never "looked down THERE" before, and others that made me cry like the Bosnian woman who was ripped open with the force of a gun inside her. In a world of violence and television images that we've become numb to, art and performance provide a vehicle to connect with people, to open their eyes to what's happening all around us.
Tonight I will attend another V-Day performance in Ferndale, a play written by Eve Ensler called Necessary Targets. Eve traveled to Bosnia to interview female refugees who had been brutally raped and beaten during the war. Their stories of love and community in the face of such brutality inspired Eve to write the play.
Necessary Targets runs tonight at 7:30 at the Ringwald Theater in Ferndale and proceeds benefit HAVEN in Pontiac, an emergency shelter that runs educational programs in the schools, offers counseling, advocates for abuse victims, and maintains a 24-hour crisis line and a forensic nursing program for sexual assault victims.
Tonight is the last show, but there are several other V-Day events taking place in and around Detroit in the next couple of weeks:
Love HER. Cherish HER. RESPECT HER. An Evening of Spoken Word, 7 p.m. Friday, Feb. 27, 1515 Broadway, Detroit.
Women's self-defense seminar, 9 a.m. to noon Saturday, Feb. 28, the Costick Center, located on 11 Mile, between Middlebelt and Inkster, Farmington Hills. Jeff Duncan, master instructor and sixth-degree black belt, his wife Connie, second-degree black belt and chief instructor and additional female black belt instructors from Farmington Martial Arts, will teach self-defense and awareness skills. Open to women and girls, age 11 and up. Advance registration is required by calling (248) 473-1800.
"Anyone of Us: Words from Prison," 7:30 p.m. Saturday, Feb. 28, and 2 p.m. Sunday, March 1, 1515 Broadway, Detroit. The production draws on the writings of women in prison. A panel discussion follows the performance.
Until the Violence Stops Film Festival, 7 p.m. March 3-4, 1515 Broadway, Detroit. "Until the Violence Stops," "What I Want My Words To Do To you," and "From One Prison" screen the first day; "Tough Guise," "Street Sex," and "Lumo" shown the second day.
"The Vagina Monologues," 7:30 p.m. Friday-Saturday, March 6-7, 1515 Broadway, Detroit. Special guest is Kalimah Johnson, a therapist and poet.
If you can't attend any of these events, please visit the www.VDay.org to learn more about what you can do to help stop violence against women.
February 26, 2009
February 25, 2009
February Haiku
A co-worker on facebook posted a "Pothole Haiku" as her status this week and inspired me. I love haiku! And it's been a while, so here are a few haiku I wrote about the month of February.
Fourth month of winter/
Oh look, another gray cloud/
How many more weeks?
Glad for Valentine's/
Or else month would be a bust/
Though March not better
Big holes of dread/
My bloody tongue reminds me/
Have to swerve next time
Furnace is tired/
Running marathons all day/
Expensive racing
Rubber on ice, slide/
Guardrail not very sturdy/
Facing wrong way now
Hello I am here/
Under all of these layers/
Warm, but can't move much
Heavy boots on feet/
Forgot what my toes look like/
Wonder if they still exist
Fourth month of winter/
Oh look, another gray cloud/
How many more weeks?
Glad for Valentine's/
Or else month would be a bust/
Though March not better
Big holes of dread/
My bloody tongue reminds me/
Have to swerve next time
Furnace is tired/
Running marathons all day/
Expensive racing
Rubber on ice, slide/
Guardrail not very sturdy/
Facing wrong way now
Hello I am here/
Under all of these layers/
Warm, but can't move much
Heavy boots on feet/
Forgot what my toes look like/
Wonder if they still exist
Skinny Tuesday
Yesterday was "Fat Tuesday" or "Paczki Day" and while I understand what Fat Tuesday is - the last chance to gorge yourself on forbidden delights in the form of a huge, stuffed donut-like pastries before you have to give up all your culinary sins when Lent begins on Ash Wednesday - I don't get what's so great about Paczkis. They're enormous, heavy, greasy balls filled with various flavors of fruit jelly (there are even prune ones!) or Bavarian custard. "What's not to love?" you may say, but before you take another bite, think about this - what does Fat Tuesday mean to you?
Fat Tuesday actually began as Fat Thursday to mark the beginning of the last week before Lent. Paczki (pronounced "ponchki", not "poonchki" like it's so often called) were discovered as a way to use up all of the lard, sugar and eggs that would be forbidden during Lent. So, shouldn't only those who participate in Lent celebrate Fat Tuesday? If you don't practice Lenten behavior yet still eat your share of paczki the day before Ash Wednesday, it's kind of like celebrating Christmas Eve but refusing to celebrate Christmas. What's the point? I mean, rather than waiting in the two-hour bakery line in Hamtramck for a dozen paczki, you could designate a random day, say January 14, as your own personal paczki day. Or do they taste better on Fat Tuesday? Is it the camaraderie of eating them together? Is it the forbidden aura around every nibble that gets your heart rate up on that particular day?
In your defense, I do realize this is all easy for me to say because paczki have the distinct honor of being the only sweet on the planet that I have no trouble resisting and I do not participate in Lent (well, there was that one time I gave up ice cream and chocolate just to see if I could do it). I think we should abandon the tradition altogether and instead live a life of moderation and simplicity. If there's something you love that's not so great for you, do it in moderation. If there's something that you can give up for 40 days, give it up all together and live simply rather than conforming to a tradition of gorging, denying, and then gorging again.
Just a thought...
And one more note:
If you're Polish and having paczki means much more to you than just a jelly donut, if it is a way to celebrate your heritage, then by all means you should go to Hamtramck for the parade, festival and a performance by the Polish Mulsims.
Fat Tuesday actually began as Fat Thursday to mark the beginning of the last week before Lent. Paczki (pronounced "ponchki", not "poonchki" like it's so often called) were discovered as a way to use up all of the lard, sugar and eggs that would be forbidden during Lent. So, shouldn't only those who participate in Lent celebrate Fat Tuesday? If you don't practice Lenten behavior yet still eat your share of paczki the day before Ash Wednesday, it's kind of like celebrating Christmas Eve but refusing to celebrate Christmas. What's the point? I mean, rather than waiting in the two-hour bakery line in Hamtramck for a dozen paczki, you could designate a random day, say January 14, as your own personal paczki day. Or do they taste better on Fat Tuesday? Is it the camaraderie of eating them together? Is it the forbidden aura around every nibble that gets your heart rate up on that particular day?
In your defense, I do realize this is all easy for me to say because paczki have the distinct honor of being the only sweet on the planet that I have no trouble resisting and I do not participate in Lent (well, there was that one time I gave up ice cream and chocolate just to see if I could do it). I think we should abandon the tradition altogether and instead live a life of moderation and simplicity. If there's something you love that's not so great for you, do it in moderation. If there's something that you can give up for 40 days, give it up all together and live simply rather than conforming to a tradition of gorging, denying, and then gorging again.
Just a thought...
And one more note:
If you're Polish and having paczki means much more to you than just a jelly donut, if it is a way to celebrate your heritage, then by all means you should go to Hamtramck for the parade, festival and a performance by the Polish Mulsims.
February 17, 2009
Six-Word Memoir
Urban legend holds that, to win a $10 bet, Ernest Hemingway once wrote a six-word story: "For sale: baby shoes, never worn." This sparked online magazine Smith to challenge their readers to write their own six-word autobiography. The magazine received thousands of responses, many of which are collected in the book Not Quite What I Was Planning. Some are funny, some are sad, some make no sense at all to anyone but the person who wrote it, but they inspired me to think about my own life and how I would represent 32 years so briefly.
What has my life meant up until now? What has been the theme? What do I represent?
Approaching it from every conceivable angle, I set out to write my six-word memoir. Should it be about my childhood and my family? Should it be about my emotional growth and my journey to find myself? Or should it be about my life as I see it now?
In the end, I decided that my life has been a continuous journey of discovery, challenge, adventure and love. I've spent a good portion of my life discovering who I am. I've faced adversity, I've risen, I've fallen, I've loved and I most definitely have lost. Expressing all of that in just six words seemed impossible at first, but then I gave it a shot. And I wrote a few. :-)
I'm who? Switched paths. Right road.
Leaped, fell, bruised. Fell again, love.
Laugh lines are my greatest achievement.
Climbing mountains. Sometimes with bad shoes.
Bending but never breaking. Strong roots.
What would your six-word autobiography be?
What has my life meant up until now? What has been the theme? What do I represent?
Approaching it from every conceivable angle, I set out to write my six-word memoir. Should it be about my childhood and my family? Should it be about my emotional growth and my journey to find myself? Or should it be about my life as I see it now?
In the end, I decided that my life has been a continuous journey of discovery, challenge, adventure and love. I've spent a good portion of my life discovering who I am. I've faced adversity, I've risen, I've fallen, I've loved and I most definitely have lost. Expressing all of that in just six words seemed impossible at first, but then I gave it a shot. And I wrote a few. :-)
I'm who? Switched paths. Right road.
Leaped, fell, bruised. Fell again, love.
Laugh lines are my greatest achievement.
Climbing mountains. Sometimes with bad shoes.
Bending but never breaking. Strong roots.
What would your six-word autobiography be?
February 16, 2009
MCL - My Crappy Ligament
Ten days ago at hockey I missed the puck and as I'm falling down I catch an edge that turned my knee inward. I fell on my knee in a way that nature certainly did not intend, indicated by the clearly audible "SNAP." In my head I scream "NO!! NOT AGAIN!!" and I grit my teeth as I get on all fours and attempt to stand. Not happening. And no one seems to know that I'm down because the play is at the other end of the ice. Finally the whistle blows and I hear the ref skate over and say "Knee?"
"Yep."
Then Nicole is there and a few players from the other team and I tell them I want to try to stand on my own (I'm stubborn that way) but it hurts too much and I need help. Nicole on my right and a player from the other team on my left, I get helped to the bench. Everyone bangs their sticks on the ice or the bench - a nice gesture but never a noise I wanted to hear for ME.
Hard to walk on but not impossible, I sit the rest of the game on the bench icing. In an ice rink. Who's idea was that??
Tests administered by my very own live-in personal athletic trainer indicated an MCL tear. The Medial Collateral Ligament, or My Crappy Ligament as I like to call it, on the inside of my left knee (for those of you wondering, it's not the knee I had surgery on two years ago...hey my last name isn't Ballance for nothing!) and is luckily the only ligament in the knee with a blood supply - meaning it has the ability to heal itself. "Oh, don't mind me, I'm just laying here on the couch waiting for my knee to make scar tissue..."
I spent this past week getting reacquainted with the ice machine, stim machine, knee wraps and my robo-leg brace. Following R.I.C.E is doing wonders for my knee, but what about the rest of me? What about the part of me that spent that entire night sobbing in utter disappointment (after I left the rink, of course...wouldn't want anyone to see me)...the part of me that couldn't call my teammates on either volleyball team to tell them I would be sitting out for at least a couple of weeks because I couldn't speak a word about it without breaking down...the part of me that was so deeply disheartened, that after only my first week of training for a triathlon that I'm pushing myself to do and am scared that I won't even make it past the swim, I was nearly being forced to give up working toward my dream, scared that I wouldn't have enough time to train?
They say that it is in times of adversity and despair that we see who we really are. Well, great. That means I'm a self-pitying crybaby. Or it means that I care so much about the triathlon, on so many levels, that anything that threatens to take it away from me cuts me to the core. That's exactly what this did to me and I'm not proud to say that it took me a few days to pull myself out of it and realize that I don't need a fully functioning knee in order to do laps in a pool. And while I can't jump up to spike a ball (well, I could...it's the landing that would be problematic!) I can still ride a bike. And even though I limp when I walk, I can't lay on my right side to sleep because it hurts too much, and I can't play the sports that I love, I can still move toward my goal, however slow that may be right now. But it's ok, because I'm still moving. I still have 11 weeks to train. Nearly three months! And I'm gonna get to that finish line...one step at a time.
"Just keep swimming, just keep swimming..."
- Dory, Finding Nemo
"Yep."
Then Nicole is there and a few players from the other team and I tell them I want to try to stand on my own (I'm stubborn that way) but it hurts too much and I need help. Nicole on my right and a player from the other team on my left, I get helped to the bench. Everyone bangs their sticks on the ice or the bench - a nice gesture but never a noise I wanted to hear for ME.
Hard to walk on but not impossible, I sit the rest of the game on the bench icing. In an ice rink. Who's idea was that??
Tests administered by my very own live-in personal athletic trainer indicated an MCL tear. The Medial Collateral Ligament, or My Crappy Ligament as I like to call it, on the inside of my left knee (for those of you wondering, it's not the knee I had surgery on two years ago...hey my last name isn't Ballance for nothing!) and is luckily the only ligament in the knee with a blood supply - meaning it has the ability to heal itself. "Oh, don't mind me, I'm just laying here on the couch waiting for my knee to make scar tissue..."
I spent this past week getting reacquainted with the ice machine, stim machine, knee wraps and my robo-leg brace. Following R.I.C.E is doing wonders for my knee, but what about the rest of me? What about the part of me that spent that entire night sobbing in utter disappointment (after I left the rink, of course...wouldn't want anyone to see me)...the part of me that couldn't call my teammates on either volleyball team to tell them I would be sitting out for at least a couple of weeks because I couldn't speak a word about it without breaking down...the part of me that was so deeply disheartened, that after only my first week of training for a triathlon that I'm pushing myself to do and am scared that I won't even make it past the swim, I was nearly being forced to give up working toward my dream, scared that I wouldn't have enough time to train?
They say that it is in times of adversity and despair that we see who we really are. Well, great. That means I'm a self-pitying crybaby. Or it means that I care so much about the triathlon, on so many levels, that anything that threatens to take it away from me cuts me to the core. That's exactly what this did to me and I'm not proud to say that it took me a few days to pull myself out of it and realize that I don't need a fully functioning knee in order to do laps in a pool. And while I can't jump up to spike a ball (well, I could...it's the landing that would be problematic!) I can still ride a bike. And even though I limp when I walk, I can't lay on my right side to sleep because it hurts too much, and I can't play the sports that I love, I can still move toward my goal, however slow that may be right now. But it's ok, because I'm still moving. I still have 11 weeks to train. Nearly three months! And I'm gonna get to that finish line...one step at a time.
"Just keep swimming, just keep swimming..."
- Dory, Finding Nemo
February 4, 2009
Only in Ann Arbor...
We all know that the proposal to legalize medicinal marijuana in Michigan passed with the Nov. 4, 2008 election. The law allows patients with cancer, HIV, AIDS, glaucoma and other diseases to use marijuana to relieve their symptoms on a doctor's recommendation. I voted for it and I'm glad it passed. In my opinion, if you have a debilitating or possibly fatal disease and lighting up a joint makes you more comfortable and doesn't harm you, by all means do it. I'll get a match.
But I gotta say, I was a little caught off guard and had to chuckle when I heard a radio ad on Ann Arbor's 107.1 today for a conference in Ann Arbor that will address how to grow and cultivate your own cannabis plants. A cheerful woman explained that marijuana was legal to use for medicinal purposes in Michigan so you should come learn how to grow it yourself! Why not!? I can see all of us at work with little marijuana plants in our windowsills, small children planting cannabis in their community gardens, and heaps of the stuff selling at the farmer's market on Saturday mornings.
No wonder University of Michigan student and Olympic Gold Medal winner Michael Phelps was caught and photographed smoking a pipe. He didn't stand a chance here.
But I gotta say, I was a little caught off guard and had to chuckle when I heard a radio ad on Ann Arbor's 107.1 today for a conference in Ann Arbor that will address how to grow and cultivate your own cannabis plants. A cheerful woman explained that marijuana was legal to use for medicinal purposes in Michigan so you should come learn how to grow it yourself! Why not!? I can see all of us at work with little marijuana plants in our windowsills, small children planting cannabis in their community gardens, and heaps of the stuff selling at the farmer's market on Saturday mornings.
No wonder University of Michigan student and Olympic Gold Medal winner Michael Phelps was caught and photographed smoking a pipe. He didn't stand a chance here.
February 3, 2009
Time Sharing
It's 11 a.m. on our first day in Vegas and the streets are relatively empty, everyone has either just gone to bed or is inside gambling away their kid's college tuition or next month's rent. New and fresh to the city, we're slightly naive and not yet annoyed by the numerous solicitations we receive on every corner. "Are you ladies going out tonight?" "How about a free show!?" "Come take a look!" We smile, don't make eye contact, and continue walking... until...
He was relentless and charismatic - a dangerous combination. Maybe it was the fact that he resembled our new president or that he referred to a deal for couples like us that hooked us. Either way, we paused just long enough for him to read the huge SUCKER signs on our foreheads.
We gave in and followed him back to his booth to see what he was offering. All of these shows for FREE! $200 in slot play! For just two hours of our time... "But I don't want a timeshare!" I exclaim. It's ok, he assured us. "We own 80% of the strip," he said. A shuttle would pick us up and give us a tour of their properties and it's GUARANTEED to be less than two hours. Then there will be a short presentation during which we'll be with a whole roomful of people and not one-on-one with a salesperson. And what do you know, there's a shuttle leaving in 20 minutes!
The free show was enticing. Beatles LOVE and Zumanity, both Cirque du Soleil shows, were at the top of our list, but since they are in such high demand and so expensive, they weren't actually free. Of course they weren't. But we could get Zumanity tickets for the bargain price of $20! Somewhere along the line he said he would even give us $300 in slot play so we said if he did that, we'd do it. We signed on the dotted line and were told we'd get our tickets after the tour.
To recap, the promises made to us were:
1. A tour and a presentation - to take a total of two hours, tops.
2. A roomful of couples just like us - no one-on-one with a salesperson.
3. Free tickets to a show - or $20 apiece for Zumanity (a saving's of $100 per ticket)
4. $300 in slot play - He also said that they weren't going to "hold a gun to our heads" if we didn't play all of it and cashed out.
Happy that we scored tickets to Zumanity and $300 to gamble, we were still a bit apprehensive as we waited for the shuttle. We boarded the cheerful, brightly colored shuttle, picked up a few other suckers and were on our way to...the middle of nowhere. Barely able to see the monstrosities of the strip, we were so far south, there was nothing in site other than a Boot and Western Wear store and the high-rise condos of Tahiti Village. What about our tour of all the hotel properties? You know, the 80% of the strip they supposedly owned?
Welcome to fallacy #1.
The shuttle drops us off at the front of the resort and we're directed into a waiting room where we are checked in and told to take a seat. One by one, couples are called forth by smiley people with name tags, but it isn't until we are called up by a very tall grinning man named David that we knew we had been had.
Welcome to fallacy #2.
David led us to a room full of couples, all assigned their very own salesperson. Oh goody. At least there were snacks. Eager to make small talk but coming off a little invasive with his questions, David asks us about our trip to Vegas, hockey, hiking, and anything else he can grab a hold of out of what little information we're providing. Finally the painful small talk is interrupted by an eruption of applause, balloons and confetti and an extremely jubilant man in a Hawaiian shirt. He shows us an exciting three-minute video of casinos imploding and how they have been replaced with the enormous outrageously expensive hotels we see today.
Then Mr. Hawaiian Shirt launches into a story of his first visit to Las Vegas, on a business trip with his dad. Their hotel suite was $19 and the midnight buffet was just a buck back in 1974. "Boy have things changed. Wouldn't you like to lock into a low rate for vacations for the rest of your life?!?" As he talks and flamboyantly waves his arms about in excitement, we can't help but chuckle a little at his over-the-top cheesy gameshow host persona. At last he's done with his presentation and behind him, the curtains that line the entire wall of the conference room dramatically open up to show us...ta da! Tahitian Village. We blink like moles trying to make sense of all the bright light.
Time check - 12:45...45 minutes to go. Nicole leans over to me and says "When do we get to say 'no'?"
After another hour of filling out surveys about all the trips we want to take in the next ten years (you know mine was a long one!) and how much those trips would cost if we didn't have this LOW LOW PRICE to pay each time and all the places we can go (Ok, I admit, he had my attention for a few seconds when he mentioned New Zealand) we were already running over the two-hour time mark and we still had a property tour to look forward to.
Finally David offers to show us the property, first leading us to various maps and models of the property, exclaiming that we "came at such a good time! We're just starting Phase 2." Lucky us!
David is what I would classify as a fast walker and Nicole and I, even with our long legs, struggle a bit to keep up with him. We enter the model of a two bedroom condo and it's quite nice, especially the kitchen. "And the best part," says David, "you don't have to clean up!" We oooh and ahhh in the appropriate places and as the clock approaches 2:30, we find ourselves happy to be in the accompany of a fast walker. Get us out of here!
A look at both pools, the lazy river, and the view of nothing but desert and that Western Wear store, David tells us "This will be the middle of the strip in ten years! WOW! Did I mention you came at a good time??"
Finally back to the conference room where we are ready to grab our snacks and bolt, David sits us back down and starts throwing numbers at us and before we can even blink, he says he's bringing over their financial manager to really crunch the numbers for us. At last we see a chance to pipe up and say we're not interested and we explain that it's not a good time for us, etc. "But, just take a minute and see what we can do for you!" And off David went...bringing back Mindy.
Oh, Mindy. Picture Punky Brewster, complete with braces, but with blond hair, a low cut shirt and about twenty years. "HI! I'm Mindy! You guys are so cute! You have beautiful eyes. How long have you been together? Aw, that's so great! I hope I find someone. I just started dating girls two years ago. I tell people "Hi, I'm Mindy and I used to date Mork but now I know that all Morks are dorks!' HA!!!!"
She made our head spin. And we were sure she no more dated girls than she had a degree from Harvard. Nor were we convinced she had an 11-year-old that had already had two, yes TWO, brain surgeries. Really? Are people this gullible? But she was a whiz with the calculator, I'll give her that. Her first offer was $700 per month for a two-bedroom condo but by the time she was done, it was down to $150 for a one-bedroom - good anywhere in the world of course. How could we say "no" to that??
Easy. And we did. And let's just say it didn't go over well.
Mindy continued to be her bubbly self and wish us well. David, however... "So what made you say no?" he asked accusingly. When we explained ourselves yet again, he literally just got up from the table and "fast walked" out of the room. Are we supposed to follow him or do we wait here? Would somebody just give us the bloody free tickets so we can leave?! By now it's nearly 3:30 p.m. and we have less than an hour to get back to the hotel, eat lunch and get ready for Nicole's hockey game. So we halfway follow David out in to the hall but we lost sight of him. Luckily Mindy was there to help. She really was a sweet girl...even if she was as sweet as she was crazy.
It turned out David was sullenly waiting in line to get us our free tickets and $300 in slot play. He hands us our goods and says nothing other than "I'll show how to get downstairs to the shuttle." No "thank you for your time" or "keep us in mind." Nope, pretty much just a "Don't let the door hit you on the way out!"
What did he expect? We were coerced into coming to this presentation, wooed by freebies and promised it would take only two hours. Maybe a more honest approach would yield better results. And speaking of promises, back to those four promises we were given in the beginning. The first two had been proven false and the last two, well they were at least 50% true. We did see Zumanity for only $20 apiece, but we had balcony tickets that were only worth $69. Still, we were VERY glad to have not paid that much for this show - the description of which is worthy of a whole other blog. And we did get $300 in slot play, to be used at one casino specifically, only on their "promotional machines" and contrary to what Mr. Charisma told us, we could not cash out anytime we wanted. In fact, the only way we could win was by hitting the Jackpot. "Kind of an all or nothing thing," explained the woman manning the slot machines. We played $300 of someone else's money and didn't hit a jackpot, so nothing spent, nothing gained.
If you've read this entire blog, wow, thanks to you for hanging in there! I hope this has helped some poor sucker out there like me not get bamboozled. But it could have been worse. We could be inviting you out to our condo in Vegas...
He was relentless and charismatic - a dangerous combination. Maybe it was the fact that he resembled our new president or that he referred to a deal for couples like us that hooked us. Either way, we paused just long enough for him to read the huge SUCKER signs on our foreheads.
We gave in and followed him back to his booth to see what he was offering. All of these shows for FREE! $200 in slot play! For just two hours of our time... "But I don't want a timeshare!" I exclaim. It's ok, he assured us. "We own 80% of the strip," he said. A shuttle would pick us up and give us a tour of their properties and it's GUARANTEED to be less than two hours. Then there will be a short presentation during which we'll be with a whole roomful of people and not one-on-one with a salesperson. And what do you know, there's a shuttle leaving in 20 minutes!
The free show was enticing. Beatles LOVE and Zumanity, both Cirque du Soleil shows, were at the top of our list, but since they are in such high demand and so expensive, they weren't actually free. Of course they weren't. But we could get Zumanity tickets for the bargain price of $20! Somewhere along the line he said he would even give us $300 in slot play so we said if he did that, we'd do it. We signed on the dotted line and were told we'd get our tickets after the tour.
To recap, the promises made to us were:
1. A tour and a presentation - to take a total of two hours, tops.
2. A roomful of couples just like us - no one-on-one with a salesperson.
3. Free tickets to a show - or $20 apiece for Zumanity (a saving's of $100 per ticket)
4. $300 in slot play - He also said that they weren't going to "hold a gun to our heads" if we didn't play all of it and cashed out.
Happy that we scored tickets to Zumanity and $300 to gamble, we were still a bit apprehensive as we waited for the shuttle. We boarded the cheerful, brightly colored shuttle, picked up a few other suckers and were on our way to...the middle of nowhere. Barely able to see the monstrosities of the strip, we were so far south, there was nothing in site other than a Boot and Western Wear store and the high-rise condos of Tahiti Village. What about our tour of all the hotel properties? You know, the 80% of the strip they supposedly owned?
Welcome to fallacy #1.
The shuttle drops us off at the front of the resort and we're directed into a waiting room where we are checked in and told to take a seat. One by one, couples are called forth by smiley people with name tags, but it isn't until we are called up by a very tall grinning man named David that we knew we had been had.
Welcome to fallacy #2.
David led us to a room full of couples, all assigned their very own salesperson. Oh goody. At least there were snacks. Eager to make small talk but coming off a little invasive with his questions, David asks us about our trip to Vegas, hockey, hiking, and anything else he can grab a hold of out of what little information we're providing. Finally the painful small talk is interrupted by an eruption of applause, balloons and confetti and an extremely jubilant man in a Hawaiian shirt. He shows us an exciting three-minute video of casinos imploding and how they have been replaced with the enormous outrageously expensive hotels we see today.
Then Mr. Hawaiian Shirt launches into a story of his first visit to Las Vegas, on a business trip with his dad. Their hotel suite was $19 and the midnight buffet was just a buck back in 1974. "Boy have things changed. Wouldn't you like to lock into a low rate for vacations for the rest of your life?!?" As he talks and flamboyantly waves his arms about in excitement, we can't help but chuckle a little at his over-the-top cheesy gameshow host persona. At last he's done with his presentation and behind him, the curtains that line the entire wall of the conference room dramatically open up to show us...ta da! Tahitian Village. We blink like moles trying to make sense of all the bright light.
Time check - 12:45...45 minutes to go. Nicole leans over to me and says "When do we get to say 'no'?"
After another hour of filling out surveys about all the trips we want to take in the next ten years (you know mine was a long one!) and how much those trips would cost if we didn't have this LOW LOW PRICE to pay each time and all the places we can go (Ok, I admit, he had my attention for a few seconds when he mentioned New Zealand) we were already running over the two-hour time mark and we still had a property tour to look forward to.
Finally David offers to show us the property, first leading us to various maps and models of the property, exclaiming that we "came at such a good time! We're just starting Phase 2." Lucky us!
David is what I would classify as a fast walker and Nicole and I, even with our long legs, struggle a bit to keep up with him. We enter the model of a two bedroom condo and it's quite nice, especially the kitchen. "And the best part," says David, "you don't have to clean up!" We oooh and ahhh in the appropriate places and as the clock approaches 2:30, we find ourselves happy to be in the accompany of a fast walker. Get us out of here!
A look at both pools, the lazy river, and the view of nothing but desert and that Western Wear store, David tells us "This will be the middle of the strip in ten years! WOW! Did I mention you came at a good time??"
Finally back to the conference room where we are ready to grab our snacks and bolt, David sits us back down and starts throwing numbers at us and before we can even blink, he says he's bringing over their financial manager to really crunch the numbers for us. At last we see a chance to pipe up and say we're not interested and we explain that it's not a good time for us, etc. "But, just take a minute and see what we can do for you!" And off David went...bringing back Mindy.
Oh, Mindy. Picture Punky Brewster, complete with braces, but with blond hair, a low cut shirt and about twenty years. "HI! I'm Mindy! You guys are so cute! You have beautiful eyes. How long have you been together? Aw, that's so great! I hope I find someone. I just started dating girls two years ago. I tell people "Hi, I'm Mindy and I used to date Mork but now I know that all Morks are dorks!' HA!!!!"
She made our head spin. And we were sure she no more dated girls than she had a degree from Harvard. Nor were we convinced she had an 11-year-old that had already had two, yes TWO, brain surgeries. Really? Are people this gullible? But she was a whiz with the calculator, I'll give her that. Her first offer was $700 per month for a two-bedroom condo but by the time she was done, it was down to $150 for a one-bedroom - good anywhere in the world of course. How could we say "no" to that??
Easy. And we did. And let's just say it didn't go over well.
Mindy continued to be her bubbly self and wish us well. David, however... "So what made you say no?" he asked accusingly. When we explained ourselves yet again, he literally just got up from the table and "fast walked" out of the room. Are we supposed to follow him or do we wait here? Would somebody just give us the bloody free tickets so we can leave?! By now it's nearly 3:30 p.m. and we have less than an hour to get back to the hotel, eat lunch and get ready for Nicole's hockey game. So we halfway follow David out in to the hall but we lost sight of him. Luckily Mindy was there to help. She really was a sweet girl...even if she was as sweet as she was crazy.
It turned out David was sullenly waiting in line to get us our free tickets and $300 in slot play. He hands us our goods and says nothing other than "I'll show how to get downstairs to the shuttle." No "thank you for your time" or "keep us in mind." Nope, pretty much just a "Don't let the door hit you on the way out!"
What did he expect? We were coerced into coming to this presentation, wooed by freebies and promised it would take only two hours. Maybe a more honest approach would yield better results. And speaking of promises, back to those four promises we were given in the beginning. The first two had been proven false and the last two, well they were at least 50% true. We did see Zumanity for only $20 apiece, but we had balcony tickets that were only worth $69. Still, we were VERY glad to have not paid that much for this show - the description of which is worthy of a whole other blog. And we did get $300 in slot play, to be used at one casino specifically, only on their "promotional machines" and contrary to what Mr. Charisma told us, we could not cash out anytime we wanted. In fact, the only way we could win was by hitting the Jackpot. "Kind of an all or nothing thing," explained the woman manning the slot machines. We played $300 of someone else's money and didn't hit a jackpot, so nothing spent, nothing gained.
If you've read this entire blog, wow, thanks to you for hanging in there! I hope this has helped some poor sucker out there like me not get bamboozled. But it could have been worse. We could be inviting you out to our condo in Vegas...
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