The Vegas Window

Below is an e-mail I just received from a guy I recently met while on the Sun Cruz Casino ship. He told me his name was Charlie Whitman and that he was a freelance writer so I gave him my e-mail address. To be honest with you I really did not expect to hear from him so soon but it looks like he had something to submit. He said that he has been looking for an outlet for some memoir type writing. I offered to set him up with his own blog but he feels that my readership will help him get established. Please enjoy.

Charlie Whitman appears as a guest writer on The Vegas Window, he currently resides at the Merritt Island Co-Op in sunny Merritt Island, Florida.

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It takes a hard night to truly feel your age the next morning. Now I’m not saying this from the point of view of an old man but from a man of experience and a FEW years. One who counts the passing months awaiting the approach of arthritis and prostate trouble. I must mention that I have experienced true youth, youth as a justification for doing the impossible and the improbable. I’ve built up a reputation in my town over the years as being the embodiment of all things rash and indulgent, a label I am proud to have. And because of this I have led a personal crusade to always live up to this mark, not for myself but for the sake of the town itself. I am Florida’s native son.

So we can get past these annoying introductions let me conclude by saying that for as long as I can remember people have been calling me “The Stagman”. I can’t recall exactly how far back, as these days my memory is a bit hazy without the aid of a drink, but that is beside the point. A name like “The Stagman” doesn’t apply to just any knuckle-dragging chauvinist. You gotta truly live the part. The name embodies late night stag parties with just you and your buds watching old 1950’s pornography on a reel-to-reel projector, smoking cheap cigars, and swigging back Jim Beam. It’s whistling at broads, hitting on one girl in a group of girls at a bar, and then going home with her fat friend just to spite her. This is what makes a Stagman… that and more than a couple dozen visits to the local strip joint in a given month.

This is a way of life and I’d probably choose a different one if given a menu. But this is fate clashing with freewill. This is my world and its great.

- Charlie Whitman aka The Stagman