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next hour, we used a divide-and-conquer strategy. M y responsibility was to talk with the different scientists who were there and learn more about their research needs and protocols . Being the consummate businessman, JT would talk with as many of our sponsors as he could since they represented potential clients . After about ninety minutes, JT returned to me , and we shared what we’d learned.
    By then, it was dinner time, and the party was winding down. T he two of us left the hotel and caught a cab to one of JT’s favorite restaurants. Panevino Ristorante is a beautiful Italian restaurant with delicious food and an incredible view of the Las Vegas Strip . After the waiter seat ed us, a fresh basket of bread wa s delivered to our table as were two glasses of water and a bottle of wine from the restaurant’s extensive list .
    I looked at JT and smiled.
    He looked up from his menu. "What is it?"
    "I think this is the first meal w e've eaten outside of the office."
    The waiter poured two glasses of wine for us, and JT raised his. “Here's to getting out more often," he said.
    “Who are you kidding? ” I laughed. “ I don't think we'll ever get out more often . "
    “ That’s a sad thought ,” h e said . “Maybe we both need to make a point of it.”
    For a while, we chatted about work. Then, after another glass of wine, JT seemed more relaxed than I’d seen him. We ordered our meals and, for the first time, talked about ourselves. I learned that JT had grown up in Boston before his family moved to Houston when he was 14. His father was an accountant in the oil industry, and his mother was a cellist who left his father and returned to Boston once JT turned 18.
    “She missed the northeastern culture," he told me.
    His sister Denise was six years his senior and lived in Chicago and was married with two adult children .
    Like me, JT had had a love of the heavens ever since he was a child . When he was young, he’d always dreamed that, when he died, he would become one of the brightest stars in the heavens so that he could keep watch over those he loved . He’d beg u n collecting antique spyglasses to get a better view of the sky . Even after he ’d bought his firsts few telescopes, he continued to add to his spyglass collection .
    Then, it was my turn. My older sister, Rhonda , was married with three younger kids – Marta, Jeremy, and Michael – and lived near my parents in northern New Jersey. I had grown up on the outskirts of Morristown and had spent plenty of time working and playing in New York City , which I considered home .
    “What are your parents like?” JT asked.
    “My parents?” I raised my eyebrows . “They mean well, but they're probably two of the most severe people I've ever known .”
    He smiled. “I'd like to meet the m some day.”
    I sho ok my head. "I don't think so. When Rhonda and I were growing up, t hey terrified all of our friends. ” I looked up at him and smiled. " They don't play well with other people."
    He laughed. “ Y ou’re not much like your parents are you? ”
    “In some ways, I probably am like them .”
    O ur waitress delivered our meals, and we realized how hungry we’d been. After a delicious dinner of salad and angel hair pomodoro capellini , w e walked outside and hailed a taxi . We were both full and tired and remained quiet during our ride back to the hotel . I looked out the window as we drove by brightly lit clubs and hotels and recalled my first trip to Vegas many years before . After having driven through the dark desert night for hours , I came upon the unnaturally bright and active city in the distance , and it had appeared like a mirage.
    I turned to see JT watching me. “You’ve been here before?” he asked.
    “Once. Many years ago.”
    He nodded and turned to look back out the window.
    The taxi pulled up in front of our hotel and dropped us off. As we walked through the lobby and rode the elevator up to the eighth floor , JT was strangely quiet.