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Richard Botto, Editor in Chief / CEO of RAZOR Magazine, has created the definitive men's magazine which features the best in men's fashion, travel, sports, autos, celebrities, technology, humor, fiction, fitness and more.
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 WRITINGS:
RICHARD BOTTO
Back to Writings Main Menu
February 2002
In This Corner, Wearing the Red, White and Blue Trunks… The World.
There's nothing I hate more than a cliché. In the face of a tragedy,
any tragedy, they're thrown around like Frisbees in a glass factory. You
know how it is; you've had them hurled at you when you lost your job,
or when your dog ran away or when your ex-girlfriend made off with your
best friend and half of your CD collection. They're the easy way out,
the tried and true silencer and, to me, a waste of oxygen. So you'll understand
why I remain astonished in finding validity to the most oft spewed cliché
since September - Something good comes from everything - in, of all places,
the final frontier of American excess, Las Vegas.
Nothing has changed in the city of neon. The cards are dealt, the drinks
are consumed, the angles are played and hope and despair wage battle between
rolls of sevens and snake eyes. I've been to Vegas dozens of times and
I've seen it all, but this time, things seemed different almost immediately.
We were in town to see boxing, a sport as American as any that incorporates
all this land has become famous for around the globe; passion, athleticism,
skill, greed and corruption. And where there is boxing, there's betting.
So it started in the sportsbook when I struck up a conversation with
a woman eyeing the odds on the "match". She said that she
had traveled all the way from Sydney, Australia to see the fight. When
I mentioned that her accent didn't seem like it was from the land Down
Under, she replied, "I'm a Brit by birthright, an Aussie by address
and, now, an American by heart."
That evening, thousands of UK citizens crammed the arena. They had
crossed the Pond to see a man named Lennox, a guy born in Manchester,
England, recapture his heavyweight crown against a guy from Atlanta,
Georgia. In groups, they carried both the British and America flags.
They weren't conflicted in their allegiance to either fighter. They
were there to cheer on Lennox AND the United States. After their guy
hit the other guy with a right cross that the fallen's family felt in
Athens, they walked shoulder to shoulder and sang songs as they left
the arena. But not before their guy mentioned to the world that he was
honored to have fought the battle on American soil. Then they converged
upon the casino bar where a pumped up fan wanted to buy "all his
mates a pint". And that's when the only boo of the weekend came
from the crowd, when they found out there was no Guinness. When told
there were plenty of American ales to choose from, he said, "Pleeeezzzeee,
I pee darker than 'dat'."
The next night 15,000 people gathered to watch a band from Dublin,
Ireland. A band whose members know a thing or two about terrorists,
fanatics and political unrest. A band whose audience was ready to party,
but cognizant of the times, carried flags in abundance and chanted "U-S-A"
prior to showtime while tunes of another famous foursome from the UK
who became an American phenomenon in the 60's blared over the PA system.
At any other time, say the summer of 2001, this concert would have been
nothing more than a night of escapism. But right now, escapism is not
en vogue.
So when a song about "religious fanatics who recreate God in their
own image" was introduced as such, the crowd responded as if they
had collectively won the lottery. And when the world famous front man
of a band from Dublin softly stated that he was "proud and humbled
to be playing in the United States at this time" they understood
and appreciated the loyalty. And, lastly, when that band used one of their
signature songs to celebrate the lives of the passengers aboard the four
fallen airliners as well as those from the NYPD and NYFD, the vast crowd
of 15,000 became one. I swear, I saw a man dressed like Elvis hug a total
stranger and weep openly.
In retrospect, I guess that could (and should) only happen in Vegas.
So what about that cliché? What's the good? Well, the world
has gotten smaller. There's a greater sense of worth. A greater sense
of value, of unity. We truly are healing together, globally.
Which brings me back to the Brit at the hotel bar. After consuming
a couple of "poppers", he screamed to the swelling crowd,
"I love Las Vegas, I love America!" To which the drunken masses
raised their glasses. Then taking a swig of his Coors Light, he looked
at me and added, "Even if you can't brew a beer worth a shit."
I couldn't argue.
Enjoy the Issue,
Richard Botto,
Editor in Chief / CEO of RAZOR Magazine - The Definitive Men's Lifestyle Magazine
www.razormagazine.com
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