What happens in Vegas doesn't always stay in Vegas.

Upon arriving in San Francisco from Las Vegas, I had a number of things I needed to attend to. Number one on the list? Go to the hospital.

See, apparently not everything that happens in Vegas stays in Vegas. After one night in Vegas, my left arm was sore, red, and swollen. It got progressively worse during our stay, until it was throbbing with pain and demanding I see a medical professional. Thing was, there's not many hospitals that are easily accessible from the casinos. So I waited until we got to San Francisco.

Well, the doctor in San Francisco was unimpressed with my reasonings for not seeking medical attention earlier. "Right, they don't have any medical care in Vegas," he said to me as I'm lying on a gurney. All I can do is give him a look.

"Ceullulitis," the doctor says flatly. You've got cellulitis." I look at him in shock. "But I don't have any fat dimples on my legs. How can I have cellulitis?"

"Not cellulite. Cellulitis," he says. "You need IV antibiotics. Actually, you're not far from being admitted to the hospital. You should've come in earlier."

So there I was. Just arrived in San Francisco, lying on a gurney in the emergency room, IV antibiotics flowing into my body. While a homeless man who seems to have lost his cane is yelling at the nurse about having to pee. And about losing his cane. And being hungry. And about losing his cane. And about being hungry. He seemed to be a broken record.

I was rather happy to have remembered my iPod and a book.