I can see why things stay in Vegas....

It's one of my earliest memories: I'm standing, looking out the window of the ladie's dressing room at Thomas Kilpatrick & Son's Department store in Omaha. I must have been at the nebulous age where you can take a little boy into a place like that, but leave him semi-unsupervised. The dressing room has green carpeting, cheesy French Provincial furniture, and is ringed by louvered doors, behind which women are trying on clothes, periodically emerging to look at themselves in the gigantic three pane mirror, which I am obsessed by, but have been told to stay away from.

Across the street is the Omaha Theatre, which was a black movie house that showed those "blacksploitation" films, and Hospee's Music store. Hospee's sign had a huge, white, revolving grand piano, outlined in Neon. It was amazing, and held my attendion for the entire duration of our little shopping slog.

I was reminded of this today because of this, which I came by quite innocently, while trying to find travel packages to Vegas, where we may be going to observe The Greek's birthday.

I haven't been to Vegas since 1977, when the Union Pacific Drum & Bugle Corps performed at the opening of the Union Plaza Hotel. But that is an entirely different story.