Going Green, Baby!

Well, my editor, Kevin the Tormentor, suggested that I might consider writing a column on seniors and environmentalism to go with the special issue you are now reading. I suggested that maybe he could get another writer, someone older, who actually cared about the environment. He suggested that if I wanted my check, I would reconsider. His exact words were, “Do it, dickhead.”

So dickhead just turned 70 the other day. I was actually really happy to have reached 70. It would have been a real pisser to check out at 69. Now, when I buy it, people can say, “He had a full life.” When you pop off at only 69, all the talk is about how you died too young. And then people feel guilty about eating the free food at the services. Now they can ask for seconds.

To help me celebrate my 70th birthday, we decided to have a semi-birthday bash over in Vegas. There were five of us. Marge and I, Casey and his girlfriend, Jessie, and Mike and his imaginary girlfriend.

We all flew over on Jet Blue for $29 each. Hey, that is literally cheaper than driving. I only mention this to display my keen awareness of the environment. I’m not exactly sure about what we specifically saved the planet from by not driving, but I am damn sure we did good. And, because I live to do good, I was happy. Although, I was not completely happy, because I am still waiting for some sort of thank you note from the planet, the environment, Al Gore, or my editor. Hopefully, on biodegradable paper.

Hey, I’m getting a little ahead of myself. (There’s a flash.) The reason I decided to go to Vegas in the first place was essentially an environmental one. I wanted to be green. Whenever I think of green, I don’t think of trees or grass or beautiful scenes in New Zealand or somewhere. Nope. I think of money. That’s as green as it gets for me. I feel more at one with nature already.

So we get to Lost Wages and we check into a semi-snooty new hotel, the Aria. Hey, it was my 70th birthday, dammit! And all you need to know about this hotel is that we could control our room curtains by using the TV remote. Thank God we didn’t have to manually pull back those heavy, complicated curtain rod things. And the Aria had an honor bar, which automatically computed your charges when you took a $7 Snickers bar or a beer and shot that info directly to the front desk via the Internet. How did we get by before?

The first thing we did after checking in was go play some video poker. I wanted to make sure I passed along my interest in being green to the younger generation. My older son, Mike, was sitting next to me, and I had just told him how I had won over $1,100 playing video poker the last time I was in Vegas.

And now, I told him, I was going to do it again. He looked at me like he had looked at me when he was in high school and I told him that sex was no fun and he shouldn’t do it until he was married. Yes, he had a smirk. And then, after a few plays on the machine, I dealt a hand and I had the Ace, Queen, Jack, and 10 of Hearts up there. All I needed was the King of Hearts and I would have a royal flush and I would win the jackpot and permanently remove the smirk from a doubter’s face.

So I told him, “Watch this. I am going to draw the King of Hearts.” Mike was a bit less sure than I was. I hit the draw button, and a card flashed up on the screen. We both held our breath, and damned if the King of Hearts didn’t jump into place. Ace-King-Queen-Jack-Ten of Hearts!

Sheeit! Bells went off. Lights blinked. I had hit the jackpot. Royal Flush city. I won $1,000. One thousand big ones. I had gone green, baby!

And then my younger son, Casey, rushed up and said, “Give me the money, Pops. I can double it at the roulette wheel.” I replied in a fatherly way. “I have gone green. I have not gone stupid.”

And Mike just sat there and finally said, “I will never doubt you again, Dad.” I said, “Really?” He said, “Yes. Really. Except for the sex advice.”

Hey this really did happen. I won pretty big. If I’m lying, I’m dying.

And I would tell you about some of the other fun stuff we did, like when all five of us wore the Elvis shades that Jessie gave us, the shades with the cool black-flared sideburns and went to see the Cirque du Soleil Elvis Show. And everyone chuckled at us in open admiration. And we nodded our heads in unison in open acceptance of our own strikingly clever humor.

Or when we went out to the pool and had Mudslides and after my fifth Mudslide I challenged some guy in a Speedo next to me to a spelling contest on the word CIRQUE and I yelled out to him, “No, it is not SERK, you JIRQUE!”

Yes, I would tell you about these things if I weren’t so humble, and so young for a man of 70 and, of course, so dirty poker rich. I just couldn’t bear to make you green, with envy.