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A Broad View #1
Vegas Review
Ah, the Consumer Electronics
Show, the second biggest convention in Las Vegas. Cell phone battery
salesmen, car stereo aficionados, DVD dealers and every other
technogeek from around the globe converge on Sin City for four days of
technological exhibitionism. And to see tits. For the past five years
I've been making my pilgrimage out to Vegas for the adult entertainment
industry's segment of the CES show, and after visiting a booth or two
and conducting a minimal amount of business at the "straight" part of
the show, you can find the thousands of participants in line at the
Sands' "porno" hall, suffering a three-hour wait just to see porn
stars' boobies. Don't these guys see tits at home? Or are the
surgically enhanced breasts of porn stars somehow more mesmerizing than
their wives' tits could ever be? Who knows. Having a few breasts
myself, I'm amazed at their ability to entrance. I suppose I shouldn't
complain, as man's fascination with breasts has, without a doubt, put
plenty of groceries in my fridge. But you can't blame my mind for being
boggled.
Once inside the cavernous convention hall, beneath the glaring
fluorescents, the logos of every porn company beckon. The adult
industry comes out in force for this event and any dealmaking to be
done seems facilitated by the excitement of the hordes. For a fleeting
moment--or at least the duration of the show--you get to feel as though
porn is a legitimate business.
When you go to CES, the convention itself is secondary to the
networking opportunities, and the prime networking opportunities are
the parties. This year I took advantage of the free hors d'oeuvres at
Wicked Picture's cocktail hour on my way to the Adam & Eve party,
where I mingled with what could be affectionately referred to as the
old guard. The infamous and unstoppable Nina Hartley and her infamous
and unstoppable derriere were there, along with numerous other senior
statesmen and women of smut.
Friday night began with the New Machine Media party at The Bellagio in
a suite that overlooked the Dancing Waters. Then it was on to the Hard
Rock for the Gallery magazine gig, where their suite afforded a
stunning view of the Strip and all its glittering landmarks. From
there, I motored to Ra, the nightclub at The Luxor, for the big fetish
party. Being a fetish aficionado myself, I was really looking forward
to this event, a collaboration between Fetish, Skin Two and Taboo
magazines. One look at the monstrously long line and it was immediately
evident that this was not the exclusive soiree I'd anticipated. After I
managed to smooth talk my way past the security strongmen, it took
about five seconds to size up the situation: this party sucked. I
managed to chat up Ellen Thompson, the purported hostess of the bash,
and slugged down a beverage or two before retiring to the Cleopatra Bar
to play video poker. I heard a bunch of frat guys beat up a "fetish
boy," and then saw the whole lot of them, including the bloodied
PVC-attired gentleman, being escorted into the manager's office. I also
heard that a semi-famous fetish model's drink was drugged by a drooling
fan and she had to be carried out. Guess it's not a good idea to mix
fetish folks with the general public.
The AVN Awards were Saturday night. They promised to be "Shorter,
Funner, Better." Well, they were undeniably shorter. I arrived at what
would ordinarily have been cocktail hour just in time to see the lavish
cheese and crackers being whisked away and found my seat seconds before
the show began. And the show? They managed to make it shorter by
completely eliminating the entertainment. After our lovely hostess,
porn star Julie Ashton, had distributed all the statues for Best
Blowjob Scene, Best Gang Bang, etc. in just slightly over two hours, it
was time for the after party. But again, what had been billed as an
exclusive event was open to the general public. Someone really has to
teach those AVN people how to throw a party! Especially for $185!
Since the possibilities of getting a drink at the hotel bar looked
slim, we wound up in a friend's suite with Jeanna Fine, her adorable
husband Jim, Hustler's entertainment editor Rich Pursel,
writer/director David Aaron Clark and others, raiding the courtesy bar
and partying till 5 am. Now THAT was the best party I've ever been to
after an awards show! Next year, I'm gonna rent a suite and throw my
own party.
[Written Jan. 1999, I think!]
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