Exactly 22 years ago today, I stepped off a Greyhound bus into the sweltering Las Vegas heat with little more than the clothes on my back and a manuscript titled "Horse Latitudes" crammed into an old gym bag.

At 42, the future looked bleak to say the least. While staying at a sleazy, low-rent motel behind the Stardust, I was fortunate enough to cross paths with a crazy Texan drinking beer and chain smoking Marlboros out by the pool.

Mark owned a commercial AC repair business back home and had recently expanded operations to include Vegas as well as several locations in neighboring Arizona.

Although I made it clear that I had absolutely no experience in the field, Mark immediately put me to work and began training me as a tech -- thereby saving my near-destitute ass.

By July 5th, I found myself on the roof of a Pep Boys over on Jones & Flamingo changing AC filters and swapping out condenser fan motors. We spent a couple weeks at the location performing routine maintenace and making sure all the units were up to snuff.

Whenever we'd break for lunch, I'd head over to a Wendy's across the street for a burger. There was a little kiosk outside filled with copies of Las Vegas Weekly -- a ubiquitous local publication that covered everything from arts & entertainment to clubs, restaurants and the local nightlife scene.

Each day when I'd pass that kiosk, I'd make a silent promise to myself that just as soon as I managed to get back on my feet, I'd start writing again.

It turned out to be a long, slow, grueling climb out of the crater I found myself in. It took more than 6 years, but eventually I did put pen to paper again. I began contributing pieces to both Las Vegas Weekly and its formidable competitor, Las Vegas CityLife -- in time, becoming something of a well-regarded local scribe. Finally, I was a writer.

What a difference 20 years makes ... ✍

https://lasvegasweekly.com/news/2010/...