Tuesday, November 22, 2005


On Friday, I skeedadled my behind from work at 5PM sharp, having previously done a hop-spin down the hallway to express my elation in the form of interpretive dance, since in an hour and a half I was GOING TO VEGAS!

Jealous? I knew you would be.

Since I am the QUEEN of good planning, I hadn't packed anything, but I pulled the clothes that I had chosen to wear to Avenue Q. Other than that, I could have done all of my clothes for the weekend in my backpack, but Andrew had the supreme forethought to bring my Cavaliers bag and not have our backpacks stuffed to the gills. This is a good thing.

We go to the airport, get dinner at the world reknown King of Burgers, and I get a latte, since we were getting in at about 10PM, I wasn't going to waste one minute in the hotel. Hopped up on caffiene and the hopes of winning a million dollars (my goal for the weekend), we headed for the security gates.

With all honesty, I understand why we have to show up early, and practically get cavity searched everytime we fly. Because people are scared. I'm not, but whatever. I enjoy the extra time to sit and read fluff. We walk through, and begin getting out of our shoes and coats, when someone knocks over their soda, right across the walkway...where we all are walking in socked feet. I found this terribly amusing, since I hadn't squished through it, so I laughed. Apparently, airport security was less amused. They didn't punish me or anything, but I thought, This five feet here is the ONLY place you go in socked feet. Of COURSE this is where a soda gets dumped.

Bear in mind that I am in a GREAT mood. That's how I could laugh at a potentially shitty situation.

We get though security fine, wait for maybe 15 minutes, then board the plane. Oh, and the carrier- America West- overbooks EVERYTHING. Both flights, they begged people to switch flights. Not us, we're headed for VEGAS, BABY!

For the duration of the flight, the man who sat next to me- a rather good-looking nerd-type- read, moving his lips the entire time. And I may add, that his personal hygene skills were not... adequate. Every time my shoulder brushed his (which was often, because sardines have more room to wiggle about, with all that convenient oil), he would shift uncomfortably, and glance at my chest. Soak it up, buddy, I'm in a good mood.

We get to Vegas! and the cab system at the airport is freaking BRILLIANT. Efficient. Within two minutes of de-planing, we're on a cab to our hotel. With a cab driver who sounds like he's going to die of emphezema any second.

It was a short ride to the Residence Inn (our hotel, free, courtesy of our credit card miles, same as our flight), so we got out, dropped our stuff and headed out for the strip.

It would be prudent to mention that my other goal for my Vegas trip was to see a taping of CSI and become a corpse on the show, which Andrew totally crapped on. But hope springs eternal, right?

We walk to the strip. We walked all the way AROUND the back way from the Residence Inn to the Strip. OhmyfreakingGod. Such a long walk. Seriously. In the 40 years where Moses and his groupies wandered around the desert, they didn't do more walking than we did that night.

We went into Treasure Island, which is terribly tacky and full of smokers. I played a few slots, lost about $3.00 (won $.75, but blew it in the effort to win the million. Dammit!), and we moved on. We walked down as far as Bally's, but not before yours truly managed to do some serious damage to herself. That's right, I pulled my groin muscle (Andrew says it's not, but it's the leg/crotch crease, which says "groin" to me) walking the freaking strip. Sooooo much pain.

All I can think to myself is "Oh my God. I am in so much pain and we have to walk our asses ALL THE WAY BACK to the hotel." Oh, and there was no rental car for the weekend, as we had planned to walk. And now I'm in grievous pain.

Andrew sees the sign for the Monorail, so we head towards it, in hope that it will take us closer to the hotel, so I don't have to schlep my gimpy backside all that way back. I limp all the way in to find that the Monorail is the greatest invention EVER. It has a stop ACROSS THE STREET from our hotel. I couldn't have been happier.


We spent most of Saturday at the Star Trek Experience, which I thought was really fun. I enjoyed being able to see a chronological timeline of the Star Trek Universe. We went on the Klingon Encounter first, which was freaking awesome.

While in line for the "ride", they had a video playing with the EASIEST Star Trek trivia EVER. So easy, in fact, that the people in line were groaning at the simplicity. Two guys show up in command uniforms (red shirts), with pips designating them both as Captains. Normally, I wouldn't make fun of them (ok, I would), but this bears more mockery than normal.

On the ride, you end up on the deck of the Enterprise, and the people on the command deck are scuttling around resolving the conflict that the ride centers around. Here are two "captains" and they're standing around like dumbasses. A distinct lack of leadership ability makes me want to confiscate their pips and reduce them both to Ensign (rank: fodder). If they're Captains, I'm a freaking Admiral. I laughed at them. Silly nerds.

After that, we were FAMISHED, so we ate at Quark's Bar (which had REALLY good food), and we drank something called a "Borg Sphere"- a fishbowl FULL of alcohol- with dry ice for dramatic effect. Intended for two, so we shared it. The two of us managed to get about halfway done with it before we both were buzzed. The Ferengi running the bar mocked us for listing so early into our drink. It was cool. Then we went on the Borg Encounter, which was still fun, but not as cool as the Klingon one. I was especially entertained, because at one point, a Borg grabs one of the guides (who was right next to me). I considered letting loose a blood-curdling scream, but thought better of it, since I was not exactly sober. Next time, I'm going through that one sober and screaming.

We hit the gift shop (which is GREAT). We played the slots there afterwards, and we [Andrew] won like $90 on a Star Wars slot machine. After that, we got ready for the show and went to The Wynn.

The theater was beautiful. And full of old people. Seriously, with walkers and stuff. I leaned over to Andrew and pointed out the demographic that was in the theater- not exactly the crowd I would expect to see at this show.

The two old ladies next to me were discussing the show, and one said to the other "Do you know what this show is about?" to which her friend replied, "No, but I heard ads for it on the radio." I had to stifle my laughter, because they had NO idea what they had signed up for.

They didn't laugh once. Oh, and at "The Money Song", where they come out into the audience, the old people didn't catch on to pass the money to the hat. Stupid old people.

After the show, we had dinner, and headed back to the hotel (we were tired).


We had brunch at a particularly heinous Tapas place, where they served me ceviche with bad fish and tried to convince me that it's Spanish ceviche, which is different from Mexican ceviche. Bad fish is bad fish, lady. I didn't say it wasn't delicious, I said "The fish has gone off." You bet it wasn't on the bill, I ate one bite and pushed it aside.

The airport was an enormous CF. The America West self-check in kiosks were down, which meant 8 gajillion people huffing and puffing about waiting in line. I read my book.

We finally board the plane, then sit there for an extra 20 minutes. Paperwork. Hmpf. We got home safe, had dinner with the family, greeted our puppies (who missed us sooooo much), and got to bed early because we were bone-tired. And not millionares. We're going again, eventually, seeing more shows, and staying at the Residence Inn again- specifically because it's not on the strip, but has easy access to everything.

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