Report from the CES trenches

Okay, CES has wound down, although it never seemed to have got wound up, if you know what I mean. No buzz, no announcements of really cool new stuff; a whole lot of electronic components—cables, cases and circuit boards—which I’d have thought were not, technically, consumer stuff; but if not for them, it would have been a lot smaller.

As it was, I clocked more than 16 miles over the two days going through the Las Vegas Convention Center and the Sands Expo Center. Would have been more, but I spent about four hours on Saturday at some sessions on the Baby Boomer market, which permitted me to sit down for a couple of hours.

That was interesting—I’ll post separately on that, as well as some of my Vegas-CES thoughts.

For the rest—well, here’s the ex sum of the trip.

The entire North Hall of the LVCC was a Y-chromosome paradise: nothin’ but vehicle tech—mostly sound systems.


The noise was excruciating; it was like getting a full-body vibrating massage from all the reverberations. But guys of all ages were slavering all over the merchandise.





Some of the players had certainly splashed out: HP, Toshiba, Microsoft, Sony and others had huge displays. Samsung, however, had an entire zip code for their use—it was like being swallowed up by 42” flat-screen Hi-Def TVs.

On the Friday, it seemed as though there was an inordinate number of working girls, even for Vegas. But then I saw the signs for the porno convention that was taking place at the weekend right next to CES at the Sands. I didn’t see any actual wardrobe malfunctions, but there were many that looked like they were in progress.


They were out in force on Saturday.

On the extra-CES side, I never really got out of the whole Venetian-Palazzo world (except to take the shuttle to LVCC). For one thing, after walking ten miles the first day I just wasn’t up to anything else.

So, I had Italian on the faux Saint Mark’s square the three nights I was there. Mario Batali’s Enoteca was more style than substance. The Wolfgang Puck Postrio was perhaps the least pretentious. But they served me the Albarino at room temperature, I had to ask for more than the 12 shreds of basil on the pizza Margherita, and I realized that my neighbor in Reston makes better pizza crust than this place. Canaletto (allegedly run by another celebrity chef—of whom I’d never heard) had the best food.


BTW: the hotel refers to its roving entertainment as "Streetosphere". I am not making this up:



What was interesting was watching all the schmoozing & potential deals being made at these places. It’s amusing to imagine what partnerships are being forged, and wonder whose Centurion card will pay the tab.

The hotel (Venetian) itself was pretty good, which I’d certainly hope, as the posted price for my “suite” was $999. I especially liked the nightly turn-down service—they brought ice, replaced any towels I’d used, and took care of the teddy bear.


Naturally the sheets were high-end, high-threadcount cotton, which could well spoil me. Biggest treat for me, though, was the soaking tub. The only thing that gets me through trade shows is a good soak in Japanese mineral salts at the end of the day. Along with a cocktail of ibuprofen and paracetamol.

I kept getting more amenities, too (possibly because I tip the maids): a loofah one day and cotton pads and swabs the next.

Also good—the rooms seem well insulated for sound.

On the down side, for some reason there are no drawers in the room for you to put your clothes; there's a dresser with shelves--what's up with that? Also, I don't think I should have had to reset the bleeding wireless router three times in a session--for $999 plus $9.95 for connectivity per day, the thing should, you know, work.

And, BTW—none of these “in order to save the environment, please signal to us that you’ll reuse your towels by hanging them back up after use” notices. This is Vegas, baby—it’s all about conspicuous consumption.

All in all, though, I was really happy to be heading out of it all Sunday morning (having accomplished my mission). Even better—I got Alaska air to swap out my five hours of return flying/layover thru PDX and get me on a direct flight that got me back to SeaTac more than three hours earlier than scheduled. Got home, took a shower and sucked down two pots of green tea to try to get out some of the toxins.

I suppose Vegas did have one positive outcome: it made me glad to see Seattle again.