Yesterday marked a very special anniversary: my first day at work in Las Vegas. It was my first time living this far west. I moved over July 4 weekend with a car full of stuff and cats. My first trip to Vegas was for my job interview. I stayed at the Hard Rock Hotel. I was wearing a suit for the day of job interviews (I have not done so since that day). I waited to be picked up by the company in the early morning at the Hard Rock's Mr. Lucky's 24/7 Cafe. I was people-watching as the women I presumed were hookers left rooms with high heels in hand to taxi off into the morning. All the others were employees. It was still too early for anyone to be checking out.

In 1999 the Hard Rock represented the new Vegas to me. The Venetian had recently opened, as had Mandalay Bay, where the House of Blues had already celebrated its inaugural performance with my favorite artist, Bob Dylan. As a writer, I saw Las Vegas as the place to be. I could not have been more excited when I was hired by the Las Vegas Weekly. Many people wondered how I could even consider moving to a place as freakishly behind the times as Vegas. But I saw the potential that Las Vegas offered both as a place to live and a place to write about.

So, yesterday marked the anniversary of my first day of work at the Weekly: July 8, 1999. I usually don't remember dates. But I recall this day in Las Vegas history for a reason far more momentous than a nervous Richard Abowitz reporting for duty at a new job. This was the day that became known in the media as the "100-year flood." According to a government accounting issued months later:  "During the floods of 8 July 1999, much of the Las Vegas Valley received in excess of 1.5 inches of rainfall over a 60-90 minute period." Later, the flooding was the subject of significant federal studies.

But this historic flood was my first day at work, and I wanted to make a good impression. Our plan was to go to the Arts Factory (pictured), which was planned as the center of the new downtown arts renaissance. I was to go with the art and news editors to introduce ourselves at the various art studios in the building and let them know the Weekly was going to show more interest in local art and help get the word out about their activities. The rain greatly reduced visibility. The news editor suggested we not go.

But this trip was very important to the art director; he offered to drive. For some reason we agreed. I was curious. Also, growing up in Philadelphia, I thought everyone was being a wee bit hysterical over the rain. And I wasn't driving.

Somehow we made it to the Arts Factory. Almost the entire neighborhood was flooded, and water was lapping at the building, which had become a sort of island. The water soon covered the way out, so we wound up being stuck there for hours. Well, we showed our commitment to the local arts scene, even if everyone was too busy to notice.

We  returned to the office in time to leave. Before the drive home from work, a woman took me aside and, like an oracle, pronounced gravely, "In Las Vegas the rain falls mainly in the right lane." That turned out to be great advice as I drove in the left lane past many cars stuck in water. At my apartment, the water had come through the roof and leaked all over the floor, ruining boxes of unpacked remnants of my life before Vegas.

And that was my first day at work in a desert, spent dealing with a flood.

This is a true story, yet it has become the perfect metaphor for my time covering Vegas.

(Photo by Sarah Gerke)