There She Is, Miss Americaaaaaaa

A funny thing happened to me on a trip to Las Vegas once. It's not the typical, "I got propositioned by a prostitute of nebulous gender" story. This actually happened on the plane on the way there.

I had already taken my seat on the aisle. The middle and window seats were not yet occupied and I was fidgeting and watching people as they are herded onto to plane. Suddenly, from the entrance came two strikingly attractive women. One was a thin, dark haired woman, who was being trailed by a very tall blond. I remember thinking to myself, "I hope they sit in my row". You should have seen me beam when they stopped and excused themselves as they slid into the seats next to me. The blond took the window seat and her older friend sat next to me.

Before long we were at cruising altitude and I could now open my eyes and release the vice like grip I had on my arm rests. In those days I was a curious lad and the ladies next to me had my full attention. Out of the corner of my eye I could see the blond preparing herself for the three hour trip as the color returned to my knuckles. She had a writing pad, a pen, a pair of reading glasses, a tennis ball on a stick and a small shoe box filled to the top with letters.

The woman next to me was sizing me up as much as I was sizing up the blond. She seemed interested in me, but in an unusual way. It's not like she wanted to know anything about me, but wanted to get my attention, as if to coax me into interrogating her. I couldn't resist. Pointing in the direction of the blond as she read, and replied to, her stack of letters I said, "your friend must be very important". With a huge and prideful smile she turned to me, looked me in the eye and said, "she's my daughter and she IS very important". Now she had me. "We're on our way to Las Vegas on business", she went on.

The blond woman had seemed vaguely familiar to me, but I just couldn't place her. "Your daughter does look familiar to me", I said, "but please forgive me if I don't know her name". "She's Phyllis George and we're on our way to Las Vegas for the Miss America Pageant". Well I'll be darned, it was indeed Phyllis George. I had seen her nearly every week those day because she was on one of the Sunday NFL football shows.

Now that the ice was broken all three of us were able to let our collective hairs down and exchange some small talk. We talked about what we planned to do in Las Vegas while we were there. I was meeting my sisters there for a little gambling R&R and they were.........well you already know. I was surprised to discover that this was only Ms. George and her mother's second trip to Vegas. Their first trip was just one year earlier.

They seemed genuinely interested in hearing my plans. Of course I had to let them know that I was an experienced gambler. After all, this was at least my third visit to sin city and I had recently gone on a weekend junket to Atlantic City. I was on a roll with my story. Jaws flapping and brain disengaged. The words were already floating through the air when I heard myself ask, "have you ever been to Atlantic City?" Arrrggghhhhh! I had just asked Miss America if she'd ever been to Atlantic City! They chuckled and reminded me that Atlantic City had been the perennial venue for the pageant but had just been moved the previous year.

They forgave me for my blunder and we were able to move on to new topics. They told me that the tennis ball on a stick was a gadget she used to relieve muscle tension. She would hold the handle and bounce the ball on her neck and shoulders. She demonstrated the technique on me and now I can truly say that I've been beaten about the neck and shoulders by Miss America.