“What the fuck are you looking at”, I confusingly shouted at the middle aged Indian man. Here I was, standing in an aisle with 12 other lucky people, waiting to go on stage at the David Copperfield show and this bitter prick had the nerve to look at me like I just ran over his dog. I couldn’t figure out what I did to upset him so much, but I didn’t care. I was in a unique state of mind - A natural high combined with an unphaseable arrogance combined with a strong buzz from drinking various types of hard liquor mixed with red bull all afternoon.
We decided to go to the Copperfield show as a bit of an appetizer to what would hopefully be a wild evening. Although the show doesn’t exactly cater to drunks, we were enjoying the show. I’m not sure if we fit in with the other audience members, or maybe they just didn’t care for our topic of conversation, as we were rudely told to “shut the fuck up” on several occasions. Maybe we were just talking too loud, and distracting them from the show. I suppose that’s understandable.
Towards the end of the show, Copperfield required 12 audience members for his final trick. Instead of picking random people, 12 large, silver exercise balls were launched into the audience. If you caught one, you got to be one of the marks. While other audience members avoided the balls like they were disease-infested reptiles, I zeroed in on one ball like I was a defensive back going for an interception. I grabbed the ball, and as a natural show-off, I was filled with joy knowing that I was about to be part of something special, but little did I know that I was about to be involved in a heated verbal altercation before I hit the stage.
As I confidently made my way down the aisle, I was grilled by one of Copperfield’s employees, asking multiple questions to determine if I was there to infiltrate the illusion. Of course I wasn’t; I was just drunk like everyone else and was curious to see how he pulled off his tricks. Well, maybe everyone else wasn’t drunk, but they were at least curious about the magic. I convinced her of my innocence and awaited Copperfield’s invitation to come up on stage. I couldn’t help to think to myself, “this is fucking awesome”. Then it happened. About six or seven feet away from me, there sat the angry Indian man, starring me down like a UFC fighter standing at the other end of the Octagon. I ignored him for a brief moment, then took a double take. His stare had intensified. Without hesitation, I challenged him, mainly out of curiosity to see what his fucking problem was. He fired back, calling me a fucking asshole and a few other names that shouldn’t be used around an elementary school, or any school for that matter. My state of mind then changed to a combination of drunken rage and confusion. I asked him, “what the fuck is your problem man”? I seriously wanted to know. Maybe he had some type of mental handicap, or perhaps he was jealous that I was about to participate in the illusion. “You gotta relax”, I calmly said. “You’re in Vegas, watching a great show and you’re with a beautiful woman”. Complimenting his date only made matters worse. He once again erupted, but before I had time to react, I was being ushered up onto the stage. Copperfield was ready.
As I took the stage, I forgot all about my newly formed nemesis, and decided to work the crowd into a frenzy. I flexed my biceps and motioned with my hands to ‘raise the roof’. I didn’t get the reception I has hoped for, as the majority of the audience was focused on Copperfield. As I took my seat, I said to the man next to me “this is fucking awesome”. His reaction led me to believe that he didn’t think it was as fucking awesome as I thought it was. Maybe he should have stayed home. As Copperfield was preparing for the illusion, he walked by me. I looked directly into his eyes and said “Hello David”. He didn’t respond. He sensed that I was intoxicated and wanted nothing to do with me.
My role for the illusion was to be a witness, but a witness to what? Maybe I should have paid more attention when he was describing the illusion to the audience, but I was too excited and possibly too drunk to care. As the others sat in chairs facing the audience, a large glass box came down from the ceiling and surrounded them. I was paying attention now. Copperfield then said some other stuff that I don’t remember as the glass box was now covered with a large black curtain, so that we could no longer see the people inside. My heart beat with anticipation and my mind raced with curiosity. The black curtain was quickly lifted, and poof! The people inside the box had vanished! What the hell was going on and where were they? I couldn’t immediately figure it out, but I hoped they hadn’t gone far, as many of them had probably paid a great deal of money to enjoy a vacation in Vegas. I didn’t have time to figure it out. The exciting music was pumping and the show was over.
As I made my way off the stage, our eyes met again. The Indian man still wasn’t happy, and my mix of rage and curiosity in is displeasure with me had turned completely to rage. I got close to him and pointed a few inches from his face and yelled “In your fucking face you piece of shit.” I said this as if I were the one who performed the illusion. In the state I was in, I was sure my role on stage was just as important as Copperfield’s. He told me he was going to kick my ass, and I challenged him to stand up and try. As several audience members looked on, many of whom representing different ethnic groups, his date conveniently held him back. Security then approached and threatened to call the police if I didn’t leave immediately. My mood then changed as I wanted to avoid a confrontation with law enforcement, but I wanted to get one last shot in. With a smile on my face, I told the Indian man to go fuck himself. I most likely ruined his night and even possibly his entire trip. I had won and we both knew it. I walked off with a bounce in my step and a joker sized smile on my face as I met up with my crew to take on the rest of the night.
Had that really just happened? Welcome to Vegas.