New Year’s Eve

 New Year’s Eve in Las Vegas is one of the busiest nights of the year in the nightlife industry.

That year I had been working nonstop making sure my clients were taken care of. Around 11:30

p.m., I finally finished my work and decided to meet two friends and my girlfriend Carlee at

Planet Hollywood. The Strip had been closed to traffic, and it was one of the few places I could

reach using the back roads.

I texted Logan, a VIP host at Prive nightclub, and he told me to come to the VIP entrance.

When we arrived, Logan explained that the club was completely full. There were no tables

available except one—and we would have to share it with another group.

He led us to the table. A group of men were already seated on one side while we sat on the other.

A few minutes later I overheard someone reading out a $9,000 tab. Curious, I turned around to

see who it was.

The man stared at me and said, “Mark?”

I looked at him and said, “Tony?”

It was Tony from my old neighborhood in Detroit.

He owned the corner store where I used to hang out when I was younger. I hadn’t seen him since

I was sixteen years old—before I moved to Las Vegas.

Out of all the places in Las Vegas that night, on the busiest night of the year, we ended up sitting

at the same table in the only club I could reach.

Again the same sign appeared:

a familiar face in an unfamiliar place.

Moments like that made me realize that our lives may be woven together more carefully than we

understand while we are living them.