Post by The Morgan Estate on May 25, 2021 14:47:54 GMT -5
"Fly me to the moon" can be heard blaring out of the elegant Chaplin Estates, the city like complex on the outskirts of Las Vegas, Nevada. Four houses, six gardens, its own private run way and a state of the art golf course; The Chaplin Estates are one of the most sought after pieces of land in LA. As we approach the front gate, a security guard stops us and checks our ID. He gives us the all clear and a military-like operation begins. A slow winding starts, then a clanging of iron. An instruction is given and the gate lifts up slightly, and then to its side.
We check our equipment, and make sure we have everything. As our van moves up the long, motorway-like cobblestone, we see some other guests. They're sat out at the front, with cocktails to hand and dresses to match. Very elegant folk, certainly to the manor born. My eyes gaze upon a young woman, dazzling; sophisticated. I stare too long and she realises, giving me a quick smile before returning to her chatter.
At the front door, two more security staff greet us. ID is checked again, but this time we have to show an invite on our phones. I can only assume this is an extra layer of security, to catch potential con men in their steps. A valet takes our vehicle and the front door opens wide.
As I look inside.. It's beautiful. It is the finest party you've ever seen. On the right, bachelors chat about politics and sport, beer in hand and fine women at their sides. On the left, a massive dining area with a spread big enough to feed every starving child in the world. It's filled with life, people chin wagging endlessly and filling their champagne glasses frivolously. So this is what it's like to live. You're told about so many different ideas when you're young, and how the simple things bring the biggest reward. How living off the land and having deep relationships can bring you some kind of transcendence from ordinary life. No, just no. As I look at the room, and the people around us; I can't help but feel like i've been missing out.
As we stand patiently in the entrance, I notice a mysterious; shadowy figure approach from the top of the stairs. He glides, almost effortlessly towards us and with one quick swoop, he takes our coats and a drink appears in my hand. Then, I realise. It's him. The person that invited us here. The man that owns The Chaplin Estates. The man that parties every week, no; every day. Standing in front of us, Ryan Morgan.
Ryan Morgan: Hello there! Thank you soooo very much for coming! Oh aren't you all just so beautiful? Blah, charmed I'm sure! Forgive me, it's so exciting to have new guests! Tell me.. what do you think of this mansion? Do you like it? What do you think to the wallpaper - isn't it great? Have you seen the bathroom? Oh you must!
...
Ryan Morgan: Don't be scared to mingle. Have a drink, have two! Have TEN! Get smashed. Guilt is for the guilty, regrets are for the regretful. Honestly, how great is this party? Tell me you love this party!
I laugh and nod, as Ryan guides us down a long hallway. He points into each room as we pass, explaining its use and occasionally shouting in to someone or making a joke. He slides across the hall and grabs a bottle of Brandy, Vossy. He pours four shots, one for each of us and one for him.
Ryan Morgan: Bottoms up, lads! So, tell me about this interview. By the way, have you seen the gardens? Have you seen the pools? Oh we've got the most beautiful maze, have you seen that? You must, I insist!
As we go into the gardens, out back; I am stunned. Ryan wasn't lying, and he certainly wasn't exaggerating. The gardens are captivating. Picture perfect, not a single leaf out of place or a single spot of mud in sight. They can only be described as a set of enchanting forests or hidden mazes. Man made, yet magical somehow.
I turn to Ryan and he is gone. Just like that, vanished. I look around for a few seconds but he's nowhere to be seen. My camera crew look equally perplexed. Then, I hear his voice in the distance. He is at the other end of the garden chatting away to another group of guests.
Even though he's moved on to another group, and we didn't get too much time to chat - those brief moments were electrifying. He felt alive in a way I've never seen before in anyone. I felt alive too. Perhaps more than I ever have before.
We check our equipment, and make sure we have everything. As our van moves up the long, motorway-like cobblestone, we see some other guests. They're sat out at the front, with cocktails to hand and dresses to match. Very elegant folk, certainly to the manor born. My eyes gaze upon a young woman, dazzling; sophisticated. I stare too long and she realises, giving me a quick smile before returning to her chatter.
At the front door, two more security staff greet us. ID is checked again, but this time we have to show an invite on our phones. I can only assume this is an extra layer of security, to catch potential con men in their steps. A valet takes our vehicle and the front door opens wide.
As I look inside.. It's beautiful. It is the finest party you've ever seen. On the right, bachelors chat about politics and sport, beer in hand and fine women at their sides. On the left, a massive dining area with a spread big enough to feed every starving child in the world. It's filled with life, people chin wagging endlessly and filling their champagne glasses frivolously. So this is what it's like to live. You're told about so many different ideas when you're young, and how the simple things bring the biggest reward. How living off the land and having deep relationships can bring you some kind of transcendence from ordinary life. No, just no. As I look at the room, and the people around us; I can't help but feel like i've been missing out.
As we stand patiently in the entrance, I notice a mysterious; shadowy figure approach from the top of the stairs. He glides, almost effortlessly towards us and with one quick swoop, he takes our coats and a drink appears in my hand. Then, I realise. It's him. The person that invited us here. The man that owns The Chaplin Estates. The man that parties every week, no; every day. Standing in front of us, Ryan Morgan.
Ryan Morgan: Hello there! Thank you soooo very much for coming! Oh aren't you all just so beautiful? Blah, charmed I'm sure! Forgive me, it's so exciting to have new guests! Tell me.. what do you think of this mansion? Do you like it? What do you think to the wallpaper - isn't it great? Have you seen the bathroom? Oh you must!
...
Ryan Morgan: Don't be scared to mingle. Have a drink, have two! Have TEN! Get smashed. Guilt is for the guilty, regrets are for the regretful. Honestly, how great is this party? Tell me you love this party!
I laugh and nod, as Ryan guides us down a long hallway. He points into each room as we pass, explaining its use and occasionally shouting in to someone or making a joke. He slides across the hall and grabs a bottle of Brandy, Vossy. He pours four shots, one for each of us and one for him.
Ryan Morgan: Bottoms up, lads! So, tell me about this interview. By the way, have you seen the gardens? Have you seen the pools? Oh we've got the most beautiful maze, have you seen that? You must, I insist!
As we go into the gardens, out back; I am stunned. Ryan wasn't lying, and he certainly wasn't exaggerating. The gardens are captivating. Picture perfect, not a single leaf out of place or a single spot of mud in sight. They can only be described as a set of enchanting forests or hidden mazes. Man made, yet magical somehow.
I turn to Ryan and he is gone. Just like that, vanished. I look around for a few seconds but he's nowhere to be seen. My camera crew look equally perplexed. Then, I hear his voice in the distance. He is at the other end of the garden chatting away to another group of guests.
Even though he's moved on to another group, and we didn't get too much time to chat - those brief moments were electrifying. He felt alive in a way I've never seen before in anyone. I felt alive too. Perhaps more than I ever have before.
