IT'S a dark and crowded theater in New York. The curtain has only been up five minutes, and Steve Wynn, the billionaire owner of the Wynn Las Vegas hotel, leans in, grips my knee and whispers in my ear: "Eric," he says, "this will be great in Las Vegas."
"Yes," I say, "it will."
Then I realize, slightly disappointedly, he means "Spamalot." My future as a billionaire's date is still up for grabs.
"Can I give you a ride home?" he asks nicely. I'm thinking 6th Avenue, but he means L.A. Well, OK. He flies us home in a plane bigger than my boarding...