im - 10/04/2005 08:18:00 AM

The casinos in Vegas (at least the ones attempting to be expensive...no mean feat in a town where a simple cheap lighter costs $3.50 on The Strip) pump in a weird gas. It's a combination of oxygenated air and some sort of air 'freshener' that smells like formaledhyde and urinal cake. I swear you can see it; you can sure tell when you're breathing it. A walk through a rendering plant situated next to a sewage treatment facility would be slightly worse. There are lights flashing and sounds blaring at all hours, everywhere you go. Getting anywhere is a huge pain because of all the f*cking people, most of whom see fit to walk slowly and stop in bottle necks to chat or to take pictures of the strangest crap. I saw more than one person standing in the hallway just outside of La Scena in The Venetian to snap a photo of the performers therein. Not only is the hallway a good 30 feet or more from the stage, there is absolutely no reason not to go in. Another weird thing is all the people who save their plastic drink 'glasses' as memorabilia. It's funny how easy it is, in the Vegas airport, to spot the Freshies coming in and the Wastoids returning home looking, well, like us. On the way out of Vegas we met with 2 people (unrelated to Interbike) who, having partied a little too hardy and a little too recently, were still barfing into whatever receptacle was handy. One was a girl in the airport near the ticketing counters, holding her hair back and cry-puking into a garbage can. The other lady was on our flight and was taken away at flight's end on one of those airport golf carts, looking equal parts sick and ashamed. She was in the back of the plane with Nick, Sov, and TJ Hooker. I was near the front, right behind first class seating. Everytime I got a glimpse in they'd shut the curtain. Classists. All in all, though, a good Interbike experience. Got to see lots of folks I don't see except at events like this, and I stuck to my policy changes this year: more sleep, less drink, and being on time for meetings and awake in the booth. It worked, insofar as I felt great most of the time...except for the last 3 days, which started with a sore throat and worked its way into my sinuses and then my lungs. My slots are still paying out, if you catch my drift. Some notables this year: >>After wandering around the show for over an hour (and this near the end, when I had heard all the "you have to see" stories) and finding almost nothing worth a second look, I started taking pictures of things I didn't like because there were so many. Top of the list were the helmet covers that made any helmet approximately twice as big and were designed to look like brains, horns, scalp with cartoonishly big, bloody nails hammered into it, a frog, etc, all with flashing LED lights. Need I say more? >>In that spirit, I'd like to thank all the people who come to sell us stuff at the booth. These people are so obvious when they're walking toward our booth that I almost feel sorry for them. For one thing, they wait until the last day, and it's plain that they're only coming by as a last ditch effort. Listening to them, they have obviously bought and read every self help sales technique book out there and have no idea who we are or what sort of conversation they're about to walk into. At this point I can pretty much blot out the actual words they say and just listen for the pauses in their sales pitch. We listen politely, let them shove their 'literature' in our hands (all the books say to get your product in their hands!, so they do, before bothering to find out if we're even mildly interested), then shoot them down point by point with a pleasant smile and watch them flee, but not without them first wordlessly taking back their precious literature. Poor things. They'll never learn. >>Surly got a Golden Toidy award from The Society Of People Who Actually Make Their Own Shit (SOPWAMTOS) for "Best Company Making Stuff In Taiwan." This award, a toilet seat embossed with glitter glue lettering, is sort of a back handed compliment, saying "we like you, but we'd like you better if...". And it's in that spirit I'd like to thank all involved; for example, the toilet seat itself showed no indication of hand-fabrication, meaning it was probably purchased from a home supply store of some sort, and therefore was probably made in China, Malaysia, or somewhere in that area; i.e., not made by SOPWAMTOS. The part they did do was the lettering, which began to come off less than 30 minutes after we received it. Fine American workmanship. Thanks fellas. We'll hang it proudly. [disclaimer: i love many U.S. bike companies and crave their products like junkies crave The Horse. I have a great deal of respect for companies that can make a go of domestic manufacture in this era, and come from hardy midwestern stock of working class Americans. I know who I am and where I'm from. I said what I said herein to point out hipocrisy in a satirical manner, not to piss off U.S. manufacturers. Save the emails, please.] >>Best line of the week goes to Andy Olson who, on the last day we were in Sin City, recalled the previous night "shooting the stank eye at a solid four across the bar." Andy swears she wasn't a cougar, but we know how these stories change when there are no witnesses to corroborate the allegations. Hi jinx were plenty, cutting edge product sighting was slim pickings (though while not cutting edge, Brooks saddles does have a very nice looking black and tan merino jersey now...growl!), and we did eat some spectacular meals. One last thing: I'd like to send out a global thank you to Rie Okamoto, our Japanese partner, who may just be the hardest working person in the bike business. She has never once told us what to do or been anything but good to us (as a company and as individuals), but she has never once settled for mediocrity. Thank you, Rie, for always making me a better person. I'm serious, you rock. On our way out of town we grabbed lunch in an airport restaurant. The waitress obviously took pleasure in flipping crap to weary looking wastoids and we fit the bill. At one point she made Nick take off his shades and said "you boys have a late night last night?" There was a long pause. I filled it by saying "Actually, last night was several days ago." There was a subdued chuckle all around. Dim laughter in the harsh light of truth. O.k., that's my Interbike report. Next year I'm thinking about doing a run of shirts that say "The first person to ask me how Interbike was gets punched in the face." -----