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For a few hours last week, I was the King of Porn.
As I walked around the Adult Entertainment Expo, porn industry members took my picture. Starlets posed with me, holding me tightly. Some of them caressed my shoulders and ran their fingers through my hair. Several girls gave me their personal phone numbers (although I think they only gave me their stage names).
I don't think I drew all this attention because I am an aging columnist, and I'm no hunk.
But (hunka hunka) on Thursday I was the King.
I was wearing an Elvis costume. Best $100 I ever spent.
And I know that what happens in Vegas is supposed to stay in Vegas. But with the kind of attention I got from women with indescribable figures, I'm not keeping this a secret, Baby. I'm telling the world!
Normally I leave my suburban home as a normal Joe, driving to work in his Toyota. But on Thursday I was wearing a white, bejeweled jumpsuit, a big black wig, gold-framed sunglasses and fake bling. I looked good. A passing motorist gave me a thumb's up. I snickered back.
Not everyone, though, reacts to Elvis (whose birthday is today). I shared the Venetian parking structure elevator with five other people, and not one said a word to me. Just dead, uncomfortable silence.
When I walked across the casino floor, on the other hand, craps and blackjack dealers looked up. They were impressed. "Hey Elvis!" "Hey King!"
I started to strut. I nodded at people. I snickered. And I felt my sunglasses slipping down over my regular glasses and I hoped my wig wasn't shifting and betraying my gray temples.
In the big hallway leading to the Sands Convention Center, I suddenly felt alone and stupid. People walking toward the Consumer Electronics Show looked right through me. They ignored me. It was the rare person who would even offer me a smile. One fellow muttered "Thankyouverymuch" but I think he was mocking.
http://www.lasvegassun.com/sunbin/stories/commentary/2006/jan/08/519932157.html