Happy Millennium!

It isn't about a number this time; it's about a second chance

By Richard Wiley

OK, now we can say it: This year is the Real Millennium, and last year was the fake one. We couldn't say such a thing last year, of course, because people were too full of the hopes and dreams of mankind, wonder blushing their cheeks as they talked about it, the power of the Book of Revelations laying a coat of moisture over many an eye. Actually it put me in mind of the time my 1993 Volvo's odometer turned to 100,000 miles, but I couldn't have said that last year either, not without being called an irreverent antispiritual curmudgeon of the worst kind. And it wouldn't have been a very accurate comparison, since the odometer on my Volvo, at least, was right.

This year, however, with the Real Millennium looming before us like a high-peaked Chinese mountain coming out of the fog, we can admit, can we not, that last year was just dead wrong, like a dry run at the missile launch, a dress rehearsal before the play's real opening night. I mean, it truly was like pronouncing a baby 1 year old the second she was born, with hardly a protesting voice!

But if we can all agree now that last year's millennium was the fake one, the number 2000 convincing half the world of its authenticity by the sheer power of that "2" at its front, it nevertheless took so much energy out of us to falsely celebrate it that we now seem like a bunch of centenarians with no wind left to blow out our birthday candles. And all because we puffed too hard at 99.

So I want to ask you something: Are we here in Las Vegas going to let the Real Millennium sneak by us on little cat's paws, like just another thief smashing Mayor Goodman's car windows in the night? If I cup my hands to my ears I can hear a resounding "NO WE ARE NOT!" from the readers of my column.

No indeedy! But what I suggest we do instead is not simply once again get drunk and shout, but to celebrate the true turning of our celestial odometer by breaking up into four different teams, blanketing our city and giving the whole thing some real meaning for once. Some of us (Team A, let's call that group) will meet during the early part of the Real Millennium's eve at the Rescue Mission over on West Bonanza, ready to serve meals to those of us who need rescuing (we'll call the ones in that group Team B). How does that sound? In order to be on Team A you have to have a car that you are willing to leave at the Rescue Mission, to be picked up by volunteers from Father Joe's M.A.S.H. Village, and in order to be on Team B you can't have a car at all, and therefore might be able to get one from Father Joe later on that night. This is Step One in the Great Real Millennium Mix-Up. Not bad, you might say, but Step Two is more fun.

I was reading the other day how Habitat for Humanity has built more than 2,000 homes (there's that number again) in the Philippines, and think that therefore our Team C members could surely do the same thing here in Las Vegas, if there are enough of us willing to join this team and we work as hard as we can all night. Team C members have to buy their own hammers and nails and lumber, so they've got to have a little something in the bank, and must spread out over all of the poorest sections of our town wearing earnest expressions. I've already checked with Jimmy Carter, who is humbled by the scope of the idea and might be willing to come spur us on.

Now all Team D members have to have in actual capital is the $9 entry fee to those marvelous Street of Dreams houses up in Seven Hills--strictly speaking, they don't even have to have cars because Team B members, new to mobility, will surely offer them rides. Once they get a look at the luxurious layouts and cool decorating ideas in the Street of Dreams, however, Team D members--our idea team!--will then be responsible for bringing those ideas back and implementing them in our Habitat for Humanity houses, thus providing a sublime level of luxury in homes of an otherwise modest scale. This is Part Two of the Great Real Millennium Mix-Up and will provide a new kind of equality for us all, a new social intercourse, if you will.

Last year Time magazine asked me how I was going to spend "the millennium" New Year's Eve, and I made up some nonsense about not going to the Strip and staying home and trying to be contemplative. What a pseudo-sophisticate I was, how tryingly urbane! But I've learned my lesson now and with the Real Millennium I'm going to turn over a new leaf.

Come on, join me. Life's too short to just keep on keeping on.

Pick a team, I dare you. Let's use the next 1,000 years to really mix things up. *

Richard Wiley is a novelist and professor at UNLV.

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