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We started exchanging "Vegas?" e-mails last November: Bish, Hopper, Mikey, Butz, Gallo and me. Just the six of us. The core group. Everyone else has been whittled away -- we're like the remaining troops at the end of "Saving Private Ryan." We even recount fond stories about the dead soldiers, the ones who stopped coming years ago, the ones we don't even think to ask anymore. If only Vegas had mock graveyards for them. When you reach your 30s, your "Swingers" days are behind you. Back in the glory years, when we were single and barely employed, Vegas trips came together in four weeks. Now we spend months negotiating a weekend, eventually settling on a date for the lamest of reasons. This time around, we chose the last weekend of March because Bish's wife had a girls weekend and was bringing their new baby along. That meant he was available for three days, but only THAT weekend.
Approximate Word count = 598
Approximate Pages = 2.4
(250 words per page double spaced)
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