theft auto and author of the french laudry cook book and soul of a chef. he washed up in vegas at just the right time. vegas was always the most unlikely of dreams. the longest of long shots, in the middle of the desert. a real, but imaginary space that keeps expanding, creeping ever larger across the waste land. back in the 40s, the 50s, it was a small town. 100,000 became 300,000, became 500,000. then a million. then 2 million. but it doesn't matter if it was five years ago or 50, the town has always ended like this. an abrupt cut and the desert wraps on the horizon. but there are comfortable dark places too. where a man can have a drink and meet like-minded sophisticates