Captain’s Log: Stardate 10707.7
With all those 7’s in the stardate, it’s no surprise that I have less money in my pocket than when I started playing craps at the Sahara, Treasure Island and Casino Royale casinos this past weekend. But wow, what a blast.

I can tell you now, if you’ve never been, a few days in Las Vegas is a license to have fun. Think of it as an adult amusement park with a variety of “rides” ranging from resorts to casinos to restaurants to bars to nightclubs to strip clubs to shows to themed events. And, I’ve probably left out a few things.

Fortunately, I spent a good deal of time in business meetings and with client guests, so I’m happy to say I still have some money left. But, I am sorry to report that any hope of an Enterprise-C this year was lost in a called bluff at the Hard Rock Casino Poker Room. Oh well, there’s always next year.

Despite the lure to go just about everywhere, when my staff was hungry on Saturday afternoon, I said I knew of a great place for lunch. As we headed towards the taxi stand, they asked where we were going, to which I responded “my place.” And, as one guessed correctly, in no time we were seated at Quark’s Bar and Restaurant located in the Promenade of the Star Trek Experience of the Las Vegas Hilton.

We enjoyed a Hamborger, Chicken Khan, Archer Fries and the Holy Rings of Betazed (onion rings) while Andorians, Klingons and the Ferengi owner stopped by to make chit-chat. None of us were brave enough to try the Warp Core Breach, an alcoholic drink described as “Red Alert! Order this drink and prepare to separate your saucer section! Sensors indicate Bacardi Lemon, Bacardi Light, Bacardi Spice, Bacardi 151, Razzmatazz and So Be power drink. We add pure ice crystals from the planet Exo III. You'll need more than one officer to handle this situation.”



I insulted the Klingon stating he had no honor to be working at a restaurant, asking him where the glory lied in serving humans food and drink. He asked what I knew of honor and I replied “At least I have a ship, you Klingon Targ!” He growled and asked me what the name of my ship was, to which I could only say “you wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

I shopped in the stores for a bit, buying some shirts and trying to figure out a way to get the six-pack of Romulan Ale they were selling back home to New York, but decided it was best not to try before I ended up with a suitcase of clothes covered in beer and broken glass. I did, however run into a few friends and posed for a photo:



Sure, they’re a nice group of guys, but I’d choose my Enterprise crew over them any day.