I just flew in from Vegas, and boy is my tolerance for posers tired

I've gotta admit that I was pretty excited for this past weekend, what with the NBA All-Star Game being in Vegas, and the mass of humanity that would follow it. But now that the weekend's over, all I can say is good riddance.
Things got off to a very entertaining start. Despite my worst fears, my plane flight and effort to secure a rental car went flawlessly. Once into Vegas, gambling went well on Friday night (up $200), star sightings were decent (I think I saw Joe Rogan from "Fear Factor"), and the scenery was...bizarre.

Ask anyone who was in Vegas this past weekend and they'll tell you a story about a woman wearing barely any clothes, packs of roving prostitutes, and lots of guys standing around staring at them while texting someone else. Apparently not-so-subtle nudity is OK in Vegas during All-Star weekend. Who knew.

But, at about the halfway point for the weekend, the hoopla and hype of the weekend seemingly turned ugly. I couldn't get to sleep because people were screaming, running up and down the hallways of my hotel at all hours, and security didn't seem to care. And if you asked the people to please keep it down, you were met with an impressive barrage of obscenities.

Plus, as Bill Simmons talked about in his recap (a must read), walking down the strip was a legitimately dangerous endeavor. More lowlife posers lurking around than you could shake a stick at, and, yes, there were shootings. My favorite moment of the weekend was, while enjoying a meal at a restaurant, I had to listen to the group in the booth behind me and my friends give a review on the porn they had watched that morning, with plenty of details. That's classy, folks.

So while I at first enjoyed being in the middle of Las Vegas' perfect storm, 36 hours in I was ready to go down with the ship just like George Clooney, and like it.

Oh, and memo for Ann Davenport: You know that map you have in your program for the tournament? Yeah...IT STINKS. Take 10 minutes, have some SCVA intern redo it. I'm sure you've got lots to worry about, such as participating in the arcane practice of reseeding the tournament based on point percentage, but...mapquest.com. Ten minutes. That's all I'm saying.

As for the actual volleyball.
- Klineman is still unreal. I don't know if Mizuno Long Beach won it all (UPDATE: they did, 2-0 over Epic) because, along with the rest of the civilized world, I was trying to escape Sin City before getting caught in a crossfire between Zach Randolph and Danny Ferry's posses.
- The most emotionally engaged team of the 18s was Golden Bear, a team that lives and dies with each and every contact.
- The best crowds for matches are any time a Hawaiian team plays a top seed. Imi Ike, Oahu, whomever. Watching 5'2" kids shrug off a bomb from a 6'4 middle, that's entertainment.
- Every single high school in Las Vegas has the same design. It's like the Brady Bunch movie where Mike wanted to use the design of his house for everything from a laundromat to a library. Over a couple of days, you don't know if you saw a kid play at Green Valley, Sierra Vista, or Del Sol, because they all look the same.
- Chris Geeter was onhand coaching Sports Shack, meaning he escaped the clutches of Albany. I saw no evidence of mental scars.
- Although there were a ton of college coaches, it's obvious that some schools are placing more importance on Omaha. The Big Ten was slim in its pickings in particular. This tourney is no longer the de facto choice of President's Weekend.
- The UCLA Knee Slide Celebration (patent pending), prominently featured in this past season's Final Four, has leaked into club ball, with many teams coming up with their own interpretation. But there's more work needed, as some players were knee sliding into standing teammates. Awkward.