Gomez Comes Alive In Las Vegas - Thanksgiving In Vegas

Posted by Gomez Comes Alive!, November 27, 2007 09:55pm | Post a Comment
This Thanksgiving I went to Las Vegas to visit my parents. They are now retired and living with the vast number of seniors who have ventured to the desert for the cheap housing, warmer weathe, and, of course, the gambling. There is nothing Vegas likes more than getting those social security checks deposited straight into a slot machine! Coincidentally, my annual visit has fallen on the Thanksgiving holiday. In fact, I don’t like the holiday. First off, to me, celebrating Thanksgiving is basically celebrating the genocide of all the indigenous people of the Americas, and, much like Columbus Day, it is one of my most loathed holidays. Still, what are you going to tell your parents when they invite you to their home for Thanksgiving dinner? “No, Mom, no, Dad, I refuse to celebrate with you because this holiday celebrates the rape, murder and the stealing of the land of indigenous people like you and me...?” However, my ideals are often compromised by the love of my parents. They will win every time.

I remember when they were looking to buy the house they live in now a couple of years back. I drove with my mother to Vegas to check out the house. I remember walking into the place and thinking how “faaabulous” the house was. The owners weren’t there, but because of the numerous naked Greco-Roman statues, posters of Broadway musicals and the abundance of I Love Lucy show memorabilia, I had concluded that the house belonged to an older gay couple. Then there was the backyard. Rome suddenly turned into Martin Denny’s Quiet Village, complete with faux Polynesian totem poles, tropical plants and Tiki torches. My mother, on the other hand, was clueless.

After a quick look through the house, I asked my mother,

“Are the owners of the house an older gay couple?”
She looked at me like I was crazy.
“No” she replied. “I met the husband the first time I came to see the house. He said he had a partner.”
I looked at her like, “And…”
She continued. “Yeah, and he had a cute dog too.”
“What kind of dog was it?” I had to ask.
“A white poodle!”

She stopped and thought about it after the words left her mouth. She was quiet for about five seconds. Then, she whispered in my ear.

“Don’t tell your father.”

My father couldn’t care less who owned the house before them. He was happy to be living in a house and not a single in Gardena with my mother. As the years go by, the fabulous-ness of the place fades. The Greco-Romanesque walls have been repainted and the statues are long gone. Lucy O’Ball still remains in some of the rooms and so does the rainbow thermometer that hangs over the bathroom door. My father likes it. He knows the temperature at any given moment just by visiting the bathroom.

I never had that full-on Las Vegas experience. I never partied hard or gambled the night away. What happens to me in Vegas doesn't need to stay in Vegas. Truth is, I get in more trouble living in L.A. Visiting my parents in Las Vegas is a welcome rest!

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Martin Denny (6), Las Vegas (8)