Vegas!Yeah, I'm cool. A white-haired, old around the edges kind of guy with a fantasy of slipping into The Strip some fabulous night in a '71 Caddie, top down, black silk shirt open to the navel, lot of gold chains, fat cigar, the valet kid impressed and thinking I'm some kind of high-roller from L.A. instead of a big bland dude from Portland (Oregon) heading off for the 10-cent video poker machines. Instead, conned into by my companion, Lola (a name quite appropriate), I'm standing on line two hours with a coterie of French tourists, all of us waiting to...