It’s like “Vegas” is giving us two sets of tangos to watch each week. First, there’s the flirting between Deputy Lamb and Mia. Then, you have the back and forth between Savino and the sheriff. I haven’t decided which one I prefer watching yet.
Dad: That brother is in over his head. He’s going to get burned.
Me: By Mia or the father?
Dad: Both.
There’s something about TV shows that has always bugged me, movies too. Can you really just punch someone in the head and knock them out? I mean, I get that it’s possible, but is the average person really that accurate?
Dad: Oh yeah someone can knock you out.
Me: I feel a story coming on. When did you get knocked out?
Dad: In the ring.
Me: The ring? Wait, when were you a boxer?
Dad: In the service. I was going against Lopaz from New Mexico. He was an experienced boxer. I was a brawler.
Me: What’s a brawler?
Dad: A street fighter. Anyways, I thought I stood a chance against him, despite his Golden Gloves status. He blocked one of my shots and then knocked me straight to the ground. We were friends though.
Me: Sounds like it. I didn’t know you considered yourself a brawler. I thought you were the goofball in school.
Dad: Well I was. But people picked on me in school sometimes so I got a reputation for defending myself. And then when some people heard that they wanted to test it out.
Me: So you could crack a joke and throw a punch.
Dad: That’s a good way to look at it.
I liked how Savino and Mia got around their problem with the skim. The elevator switch was a nice touch. Is it wrong that part of me is rooting for the mob? Ok, most of me. Except for Rizzo. He freaks me out.
Besides the stories, watching Vegas is fun with Dad because I also get a mini history lesson with each episode.
Dad: That was the right Jeep.
Me: What?
Dad: The one that was chasing them. It was a M151 Ford. That’s the right Jeep for the era.
Me: Ok. Good to know.
Dad: Also, did you notice when they were eating the chipped beef?
Me: I don’t remember that scene but OK.
Dad: Yeah, we used to call that meal S.O.S.
Me: I’m afraid to ask what that stands for.
Dad: S*** on a Shingle. (Laughter)
