Chalk One Up for Plastic Barbie

I went to Vegas not too long ago on a business trip. Vegas = excess, plastic, over-the-top, LA only east. Me = broody, bitchy, simple.

Considering the events going on in my life, I thought the business trip to Vegas would allow some time to just hibernate in my hotel room and just get caught up on my reading. You know... gotta LOVE the direct flights from Sonoma County to Vegas. It's actually easier to get to Vegas than it is to drive to Reno/Tahoe anymore.

Anyway, long story short I ended up at a casino bar in Vegas. It was dinner time. There wasn't any seating available, so I sat the bar to order some appetizers for my dinner. I was NOT trying to attract a mate.

From out of the blue, the bartender approaches me and says that the guy from across the bar wants to buy me a drink.

What? Some young, studly guy wants to buy ME a drink? Must be a joke.

Of course, my skepti-radar goes into high detection mode. The couple sitting next to me at the bar were talking about uber-superficial subjects, which made me cringe, and also automatically assume they were from LA. My judgmental attitude automatically labled them as Ken and Barbie. I was not impressed at the conversation I was overhearing, but kept my head low and did not say anything.

Long story short, LA Ken and Barbie caught on to the Don Juan who was trying to pick me up at the bar. They sensed my hesitation and anxiety. Barbie and I then started chatting. We actually found several subjects of mutual interest.

Don Juan was making his move over to approach me. Barbie and Ken were getting to head out to their dinner reservation. Barbie and Ken took a protective approach for me -- they slipped me a $10 bill (to pay for the drink he "bought" me) and told me to get rid of that loser. Pronto.

I will never forget that random act of kindness, and how stupid I felt in prejudging this lovely couple just because they were from So. Cal.