Bottoms up!

Something I don't talk about very often is my time as a Realtor...in Las Vegas.

Yep, I was one of THOSE Realtors who sold houses at the peak of the bubble and have since watched almost all of my clients see their home values dwindle to half what they paid.

Great fun!

Well, actually, it was fun at the time. Vegas was growing rapidly, everyone was making great money working on the Strip, which was thriving, and we all felt we'd got a good grasp on the American dream.

Better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all-Samuel Butler

I used to love looking at all the brand new models of homes and seeing them built from the ground up...in about three weeks.

Anyway, I once had an extremely wealthy client who wanted to build a custom home on a plot of land surrounding Lake Las Vegas. The lake is very pretty but is a rather strange hue of green, as the gardeners in Vegas spray the grass green and the run-off from the sprinklers turns the lake into an emerald swamp.

My client was a huge texan who wore a stetson and told me in no uncertain terms to "flip a bitch" when he thought I should be doing a "U" turn. Let's just say he was challenging.

I drove my client out to see several lots that were on a hill overlooking the lake...in August, so it was only about 105 degrees outside. Lovely!

We were visiting one particular lot that was on the first shelf up from the lake, and I was walking around with the client, trying hard not to pass out from sun stroke, imagining the floor plan he had chosen resting on the land. He was quite taken with the view and I became rather enthusiastic about the possibilities.

We started talking about where the pool should go and he asked me if I thought it'd be good to put it right on the edge of the property to give the impression that the water tipped over the edge of the pool in to the lake.

"Ooooh that'd be great!" I gushed as I trotted over to the very edge of the lot.

I should add at this point that I was wearing a rather flimsy skirt, and high heels...oh yes, and a G-string.

I looked over the edge of the land and stared down a near vertical drop which I was soon to get to know intimately.

The ground...remember we are in the desert...beneath my feet suddenly disintegrated and I found myself shuttling feet first on my bottom toward the lake. When I eventually skidded to a halt, I was knee deep in bright green water, my knickers full of sand, with a very draughty rear end, as there was no back remaining to my skirt.

I shot up and spun around, desperately trying to cover my derriere, to wave up to my astonished looking client. I actually said "I'm fine...I'll be right there" as if nothing had happened!

I then had to find my way back up to my client and my car. I walked about a mile around the edge of the lake with my bum hanging out, then hiked up the least steep section of the hill, on all fours, my shoes dangling by their straps in my mouth, and legs that were frighteningly lime colored. I was met by the texan and his stetson who could barely stand up straight so forceful was his mirth.

I think he bought the land just so he could tell the story!