People who know me probably don’t understand how much I love Vegas. I’m not what you would think of as a Vegas person. I like quiet and clean and orderly. Mixed drinks frequently make me dry heave (or wet heave….sorry). I’m all about the “real thing”, not the imitation. Dusty and dry makes my allergies act up.
But there is something about Vegas that I just love, love, love. It takes cheesy to the extreme and that’s very entertaining. Gawd, the people watching there is amazing; talk about the crossroads of America. You get a little bit of everything, especially the underbelly that’s fun to visit but you wouldn’t want to live there (like the young guys trying to pick you up at the blackjack table like they actually have a shot and then you still have to sit there next to them playing). I’m pretty sure it’s another planet. The genius thing about Vegas is someone figured out how to make money off of all of it. Bring together the cheese and the sleaze and the shopping and spas all in one place. Let each person visit the aspect of their life they aren’t getting at home (cheese and sleaze here in Redmond) and indulge the part that they like to get regularly (shopping and spa). Let the girls in their early twenties walk around in matching dresses that they saw on “The Hills” and teeter around in uncomfortable heels. Let the young boys where their dorky tank tops and get drunk and run through hotel hallways acting like jackasses. Let people like me take it all in.
I once dated a guy that said that when he got married he wanted to do it in Vegas. And as much as I love me some Vegas, I took that as a data point and I filed it in my “Hell No” folder. Good guy, but is it any wonder why it didn’t work out? Vegas is many things but it’s not romantic. Well, not to me anyway.
So I flew in early Friday, checked into the hotel and we set off for some lunch and some gambling. I had hoped to go to some nice restaurants but we were running around so much, by the time we realized we were hungry, it was almost an emergency. I tried the slots but they were just as boring as I expected them to be. Plus you have to keep touching the machines and was it me or did they seem greasy? Anyway, we spent a bunch of time at Circus Circus because it was close to our hotel, they have $5 tables and I was teaching my aunt blackjack (who’s addicted now?). Plus, I think she really enjoyed making fun of me because the pit boss dude was hitting on me shamelessly (don’t worry mom, I didn’t bring anyone home from Vegas). We walked the strip, lost some money at Treasure Island, forgot to eat dinner.
It’s amazing how a day in Vegas could be a replay of the day before and still be fun. Saturday; more gambling, more cocktails. Mystere. More gambling, more cocktails. Complaining about he heat and my aching feet. More cocktails.
Sunday, outlet mall shopping, feeding my dehydration. More gambling. Airport.
Before you ask, yes I came home with more money than I left with. Not a lot more (under $200) but I’d rather be on the winning end than the losing end. And it’s going to take me a couple days to completely get Vegas out of my system.