Tomorrow Will Be Kinder

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Where: The Strip

When: April 28, 2012

What: The streets of Las Vegas are filled with people of all kinds. Coming and going as they please, be they tourist, natives or even killers.

Even on a Thursday very early evening, the strip is pretty busy. Streetlights seem unnecessary here, when every front is lit up with lights of many colors, proclaiming gaudily who they are and what entertainment is provided. Even on the far end of the strip and away from the deep throngs of people, there's still ample light as dusk starts to settle in.

Couples hold hands, making eyes at each other or just taking in the sights. A herd of females dressed to the nines with assets showing, one of their number with a tiara and sash that proclaims her a bride to be hoists a very long beaker shaped plastic cup filled with booze towards the sky. A family heading towards the heart of Vegas in search of dinner with a stroller complete with babbling child and one slightly older on their hip. Every walk of life can be found here. Even locals, who venture forth to partake of the more high end entertainments and gastronomic delights are tapping their way in runners, heels, sandals, flip flops. You name it.

It's not just for pleasure though that people come here. Others are hard at work, trying to get last minute things done before the busy hours hit - and there are busy hours on the strip. A parking authority employee in a uniform writing out a ticker for someone who's left their car idling. Woe be to that person, and lucky that they won't be towed.

Nash was exiting his establishment, ensuring his car hadn't been messed with in any one way before deciding to stroll along the strip it self, he felt peckish, maybe Sushi was in order. The riffraff that crowded street corners is ignored by Nash, he can find their kind in his own establishment, nor did he need them, no, he was on a mission to find a decent light meal, but that doesn't stop him from occasionally stopping to chitchat with people he knows, or inspect any ongoing street bands..

For some, work and pleasure are one in the same, and not just in a naughty sense. The Strip is a fantastic place of sights and colors and so many people engaging in so many things. It's a treasure trove for anyone with a head for creativity and a camcorder. Film is rolling hot, and not just from the ambient heat of lights and desert, as Zan makes his way along the Strip. It's a hobby that dates back half a dozen or more years, and not about to be given up. The teen walks with the lens focused for a time on the parking authority, until his steps take him too far that he'd be forced to walk backward and a new subject is found to film.

Her job is pretty well 9 to 5, which leaves Heather plenty of time to live in this town and enjoy herself. She's just stepping out of one of the casinos on the Strip, well dressed — slacks and a nice blouse — which marks her in the casinos as 'not a tourist' generally. Or if she is, she's a business-trip type. She pauses to glance up and down the area, as if determining where to head next.

The parking attendant seems annoyed by Zan's little attempt at home video - to her it's a little attempt - and waves him off with a "Don't videotape me sir" Not recognizing who the 'sir' in question is behind the lens. It makes the gaggle of ladies in the doe herd giggle, prance about in the hopes of getting to be the focus of Zan's camera. 'Getting maaaaaaaarried" They've also gotten a little drunk. "Whoooo hoooo"

One on the end bumps into Heather, spilling a little of her alcohol on the attorney's shirt which prompts her to startle, put a hand up to her mouth and nearly squeak. "Oh my god, I am soooo sorry!" An earnest apology.

This all causes a bit of a bottle neck, others wanting to see what Zan is filming, the commotion between Heather and one of the ladies, not to mention…

"Oh. My. God" There's another squeal. "Is that Christopher Walken" Topper Nash, is about to get swarmed.

Nash can roll with this one, and he calmly holds up a hand at the gaggle as they likely move in. "Sorry Girls, I get this a lot, but I'm not Christopher Walken, but let me make it up to you.." He says, moving to pull a wallet out of a coat pocket, and tugging out a few gift tabs for local casinos and restaurants. "I know Walken has gone to a few of these when he visits, perhaps you'll get lucky." He starts, moving to hand out the gift tabs, a few more free drinks can't possibly hurt them, and it'll likely save him from an evening ruined.

A grin is directed at the attendant, though Zan continues to film regardless of her request until the gaggle of girls crosses his path. He turns with them, the willing camera man giving them all their thirty seconds of imagined fame. He turns as they move on, camera remaining near shoulder height as he turns to get a better look at 'Christopher Walken', all the while catching the escapades on camera.

The bump jars Heather and the splash is a minor annoyance. With a sigh, she looks down at the spot on her shirt and then at the woman who did it. "It's fine," she replies with a shake of her head. Noting the cause of the party, she offers a faint smile. "Congratulations." She quirks a brow at the man offering free gift tabs. Hawkers often float around the Strip offering such things, but he wouldn't have struck her as one of those. Goes to show.

Disappointment, caught on tape to boot, as the would be star is not really a star, and even the promo cards being handed out as a consolation prize doesn't really sublimate the frowns coming into being. All this and more caught on Zan's tape as people push their way past the bottleneck, others shouting out their displeasure.

"Thanks! I'm getting maaaaried" The blonde shoves her hand up, accidentally moving in close when she's pushed by another man who's going by, thus forcing the attorney to see the big fat ring on her finger. "Two carats, can you believe it?" She's jostled again, more people going by, a dark haired guy looking over to see the ring and smirk before carrying on.

There's a scream a few seconds in, The couple with the stroller looking horrified, their smaller kid starting to cry. What they're screaming at, isn't quite visible thanks to the gaggle of bottleneckers.

Nash responds to the scream in a crowd by instinct, he was trained for this sort of thing, dealt with it, and his body is moving towards the sound before he consciously realizes it. "Excuse me." He says quite often as he pushes lightly to get through, this is his new city, and he doubts the cops will have an easier time getting through then he will, besides, he has a .45 under his coat with a permit, he's feeling pretty safe about being on the spot and possibly catching some air time if the media responds. That'll help promote his club!

Heather's head whips around, as well. If nothing else because such a sound is usually a precursor to sirens blaring, which may well require someone from her office tomorrow. She glances at the women and nods at the gaudy ring. "I'm happy for you," she says sincerely. "Excuse me, okay?" She slips through the crowd to see if she can spot what caused the ruckus, little more than just another interested bystander, really.

Pulling his camera up to his eye again, Zan twists around to the scream, obviously done with the partiers. Sure, it's a bit morbid, but he doesn't outwardly care. Quick steps take him toward the sound, head bobbing up from the viewfinder often enough to hopefully avoid most of the certainly gathering crowd, as well to angle the lens this way or that, collecting reactions.

Nash see's it first, and with the crowd backing away, the small family that saw what's there first staying put but trying to cover the eyes of the youngest and turn her away.

It's the parking attendant, hat laying beside her body where it fell off when she fell, prone, pale and getting paler with eyes open and upward. Unmoving and by all accounts, dead?

People are backing off still, others taking their place, some deciding that here is not where they want to be, even as Nash and Heather and Zan decide that it is. Cellphones and iPhones, iPods and even another video recorder is out, taking pictures, recording the last few moments of the parking attendants life.

Tomorrow, will not be brighter for at least one person in Vegas.


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