THE BEAGLE BULLETIN: HOUSTON WE HAVE A PROBLEM

Howdy, folks. Due to the inevitable pressures of live updating, uploading blogs, maintaining results & news, etc, I thought it naïve to commit to a diary of any kind, even if this is my first trip to Vegas. However, the more my eyes widen by what I witness over here, the more obligated I feel to jotting down a few thoughts. And, well, here it is, ‘The Beagle Bulltin’.

Jen and I set off for the bright lights of Vegas almost a week ago now and, although our journey was a relatively confortable one, we were unable to avoid the turmoil of US customs. Catching a connecting flight at Houston, Texas, this beagle was slightly concerned when he received a rather worrying call from his working colleague. “They’ve taken me aside for questioning,” she claimed anxiously, “the guy at the desk was too thick too understand why I had a U.S passport and called for security”.

Well, to everyone’s relief, Jen failed to receive the rubber glove treatment and was soon able to retrieve her passport after a few stomps of her little feet. Jen was born in Enlgand, but spent a chunk of her childhood in America, hence the shiny blue passport. However, this was too much for the US to comprehend. Nevertheless, she was released from her cell in short time, thereby enabling us to catch that second flight. Finally, we were heading for Vegas!

Okay, firstly, the weather. Even at nine stone I was sweating like a 20 stone marathon runner. Coming from Birmingham and spending most of my time away from the sunlight (many have accused me of being a vampire), I’m just not used to the soaring heat of Nevada. So, jumper off and ‘guns’ (my rip-roaring biceps) out and it was time to lure in that bronzed tan that alas is still yet to arrive.

I won’t bore you with details of my resort, it’s the usual affair, but I must mention the jacuzzi. For those that recall past updates, you may remember my various tales of jacuzzi woe. Well, this week has been no different as I simply couldn’t resist the temptation to give it another go.

Stepping bravely into the bathroom, I FIRST (not second like in Deauville – oops) filled the bath with water, sat down and pressed the magic button. Confident that I’d got it right, I lay back and waited for the fun to start.

ZOIKS! Once again, water sprayed everywhere and I was jumping around in the nod like a mad man (a sight that truly could wake small children from comas). Fortunately, the button responded well to my demands and I was able to deactivate the dreaded contraption. My mistake? I failed to realise that the jet at the back of the bath was at a slight angle and therefore higher up than the other ones. Bah!

I may have felt somewhat idiotic as a result of my encounter with modern bathroom technology, but I felt intellectually redeemed to have later made a stunning revelation. To our shock, all those sounds of crickets and other insects aren’t necessarily crickets and other insects at all. Corageously crossing the ‘We stop for no man, woman or child’ freeway to shop at the ‘Food4Less’ store, I managed to detect that those sounds were indeed deriving from the little water sprays that stop the grass from dying in the scorching heat. Fascinating stuff, huh?

Anyhow, a tasty meal (equipped with gigantic gerkin) and a much needed 6 hour kip later, and it was time to rise for the highly anticipate H.O.R.S.E Event.

My first venture into the Rio, a room full of stars even starrier than me (!), 1.7 million buckeroonies up for grabs, I couldn’t wait…