Such as kissing the local "Blarney Stone."

Said an affable Mexican from across the Strip:

"Hey mang, are joo tossing salad?"

But it was all downhill from there. Thanks to WinterBlast's ongoing stranglehold on Portland, we were delayed in the Vegas Airport for three hours, killing time in various Terminal Lounges with a doddering drunk who looked and talked like Steve Buscemi at age 65.

All the while, we sat and recalculated our chances of finishing out the evening at Renner's.

We landed in a blizzard in Portland at 1AM and our taxi driver cruised 20 miles of freeway without touching the wipers or defrost. But this story does have a happy ending, even if there were five inches of snow in Multnomah and I was wearing sandals.