A notable exception took place in November, when online audio and video pioneer RealNetworks hosted an event in the legendary Rainbow Room at Rockefeller Center in New York City. The company promised a sensational announcement, and assembled an impressive cast—participants in the mock talk show that would break the news included Dick Clark, Sam Donaldson, Jon Stewart, and RealNetworks CEO Rob Glaser. The morning’s musical highlight would be a performance by the 1980s British pop band Eurythmics.

In addition to the participating celebrities (who had doubtlessly been offered shares in the company in lieu of their regular appearance fee), RealNetworks ensured that event attendance was star-studded—no small task for a morning gathering at 10:30 on a Monday. In the front row sat Leonard Nimoy and John de Lancie (of Star Trek and Next Generation fame, respectively), both eagerly awaiting the announcement of the collaboration between their Web site, www.alienvoices.com, and RealNetworks. Next to them was Rick Moranis (the Canadian comedian who was the smaller of the McKenzie brothers); two seats down sat Chuck D (the old-school rap maestro and part-time MP3 evangelist); two seats further was Mike Ovitz (whose mythic Hollywood status defies a parenthetical label).

The fourth estate turned out in droves. For those journalists not working at Rolling Stone or Vanity Fair, the RealNetworks invitation was irresistible—the chance to hang at the Rainbow Room, to hear a bit of Jon Stewart’s schtick, and to get an exclusive glimpse of the reunited Annie Lennox and Dave Stewart. The event would certainly be preferable to reading the morning’s email, and, given the apparent investment in the affair (as well as the buzz surrounding it), the prospects for a meaningful announcement were strong.

In the end, however, all the time and fanfare were spent on the rather boring release of yet another version of the company’s software (RealPlayer 7) and the launch of yet another Web portal (www.real.com). Although the Rainbow Room afforded its fantastic views, John Stewart proved hilarious, and the Eurythmics’ set was worth the wait (Annie Lennox belted out a spirited version of Sweet Dreams to finish), it was hard to leave without feeling mildly baffled by the extravagance of an event which managed to announce very little, indeed.

Whether RealNetworks will ever be able to create such a stir again is uncertain. For that one day, however, RealNetworks’ public relations team could claim a rather decisive victory.

Las Vegas

Tipping and loathing

by Buzz Sawyer

"Watch your head," a man in red epaulets says, opening the cab door for me. Feeling sheepish for not tipping him—yet indignant at the notion that I should hand this fellow a couple of dollars after waiting in a 45-minute taxi line at the Comdex computer trade show in Las Vegas—I sidle quickly past him toward the seat and whack my head on the door frame.

Fearing further karmic reprisals, I apologize to the driver for commissioning such a short ride. He eyes me from behind a set of beige-tinted glasses with gilt frames, the favored local style. "I don’t give a shit," he says. "I’m not making any money this week anyway."

Odd, I think. A couple hundred thousand cellular phone-toting, stock option-dripping conventioneers descend on Vegas. And they don’t tip well?

This cabby, Gary Gates, could tell you some Comdex stories. "One lady gave me fifty cents over the fare and told me to keep the change," says Gary. "I got out two quarters and threw them at her."

In another vignette, a Comdex fare fresh off a plane in an expensive suit rudely rebuffed Gary’s attempt at small talk. Expecting a chintzy tip, Gary cut his losses by terminating the ride in the desert a half mile from the airport—a long walk from the nearest taxi queue, especially in wingtips.

I’m surprised by the stinginess of computerdom’s foot soldiers. But I’ve heard similar sentiments from bellhops and bartenders, one of whom tells me that "Chicago," a hit musical playing in town, was canceled for the week because, as the refrain goes, "they don’t spend money."

After I give him a tip that amounts to roughly 50 percent of the fare, Gary reaches for a stack of pamphlets he’s prepared. He assures me that my tip was satisfactory, but thinks I’ll enjoy the pamphlet.

It reads: "Here in Las Vegas Taxi Drivers work for tips....every time I turn on the meter it cost me $0.55 since you did not tip me you cost me money. Thanks for nothing and have a nice day ya Cheep P—." The last word is obscured but appears to end in a "k…".

Let’s hope the makers of the hottest new gadget at Comdex, a Dick Tracy-style wrist-mounted cell phone due to hit stores in time for next year’s show, see fit to bundle in a tip calculator.