Is Amaretto an eye color?

I was on a bus in Las Vegas: Route 107 northbound. It doesn't run through the best part of town.

It was the first bus I took when I got here many more years ago than I ever intended to stay. And on that first ride, I noticed a school to train casino card dealers was all boarded up... but the sign that proclaimed "Your Future Starts Here" was still intact.

It's Vegas, baby... a town with a lot of mixed messages.

A normal run on the 107 makes you wonder whether fellow passengers have more teeth or tatoos. This run wasn't normal.

She stumbled a little while cramming everything back into the oversize purse from which she'd just scavenged exact change and plopped down next to me. Looking a little dishelved and frustrated, she went back to her bag and pulled out a netbook.

"Those are very popular," I said.

"You mean Acer?" Her face still directed toward the screen.

"Don't know about the brand. I mean the class of computer, netbooks. All over the world."

She made a quick calculation, and decided I probably had more teeth... or a least if the tatoo count were greater, not all of them were applied in prison. And as she turned to face me, the late winter sun shone on her face, and through her eyes.

"You must get this all the time, but you having amazing..." She was waiting for the obvious, but I threw a change up "... eyes."

"Huh?" They weren't an ordinary brown, more of a burnt orange tone. "What do you mean?"

"The color... Not really amber. It's kind of an aged whisky or licquer. Something you'd serve from a cut glass decanter."

"Thanks," she smiled. (Good teeth, too.) "You are the first person to ever compliment my eyes." Her face lit up a little brighter, this time from the inside. "Usually I hear I have a great chest."

"They've never seen you in this light, or as a whole person."

We had a nice conversation on the rest our ride. She went on to the terminal. She watched me get off a few stops before, a fat guy twice her age who hadn't shaved in four days, wearing a hoodie with a few bleached out spots and a crumpled baseball cap with clown hair sticking out at odd angles.

Not exactly shining armor. But you always remember your first.

Like I said: It's Vegas, baby... a town with a lot of mixed messages.

And if you meet Dee Saronno, tell her a knight said hi.