So, this past weekend was the first official wedding related activity of the year for me. Nine of us ladies went on a fantastically well planned excursion (thank you Sara Spanks) to Sin City itself - Las Vegas. Three days and two nights of cut loose debauchery and drinking.
Wait, does drinking count as debauchery?
I've never been to Las Vegas before. (It's ironic I know. Cause ya see, my last name and all...How I've been "Vegas" since college and all? Aw forget it, the bellhop thought it was ironic.) So yeah, first trip to Vegas and all. Mom sewed me up this sparkly tank top and I packed my fancy, uncomfortable shoes ready to party like a rock star.
Actually, I don't think it's possible for a rock star to party harder than a bachlorette can in Vegas. But, then again, I didn't see any rock stars.
After an excruciating long day at work I hopped the 7:40pm flight out of Midway on Friday night. Over the Rockies, turbulence, but we all arrived safe and sound around 10pm. The bachlorette's entourage had been trickling in all day and another Jen and myself were the last to arrive.
We dudded ourselves up in the suite at Bally's and met the other ladies out at The MGM Grand (did you know they have a pair of lions living in the casino? It's true, they do!)Where we had a leathery room all to ourselves. 11pm on a Friday night, I expected the town to be throbbing with drunk pedestrians in search of nickel slots. It wasn't as bad as I thought it was going to be.
After the KVA Room (and if you weren't there I'm not telling you what that means.) We meandered the strip looking for a fun time. Or free drinks...Whichever. We stumbled across a confusingly named club offering us free admission where we ended up having the dance floor to ourselves for the most part.
Less like rock stars and more like high school students we boogied to 80s hits. Satellite clusters of intimidated men danced around us. Remarkable really that two guys will dance with each other to "Tainted Love" rather than take a chance at infiltrating a group of girls on the dance floor. And no, they so were not gay.
Friday night ended around 5am after a goat-rodeo of pizza delivery. And then...Wait, you weren't really expecting DETAILS were you? Come on. You have to sign a waiver before they let you into the city.
So thus dawned Saturday. Bright, beautiful, clear...and hot as Hades. We attired ourselves in our finest swimwear and made our way down towards the pool. OK, have I mentioned the heat yet? Because it was hot. But that wonderful, dry heat that you can't get anywhere else. Mmmmh dry heat...yum.
Poolside, sipping a pina colada. Soaking up sun and the view of inappropriate people wearing thong bikini bottoms. Please take a second to note that at this point I took a sip of water from a public fountain there at the pool. Then we went shopping.
About an hour later I was doubled over in agonizing pain, running through the casino at Caesar's Palace looking for the well hidden bathroom. Not at all my finest hour. I held it together well enough to make it back to the hotel through the shopping mall and then collapsed.
You think I am making this up? Ask yourself this: Who would pay for a trip, get jacked about all the fun and excitement of Las Vegas and then poop out (no damn pun intended) just in time to miss the big Bachlorette Night Out At The Strip Club? I mean, sure it was cool that there was like 4 hours of Saturday Night Live on but not THAT cool.
So yeah. Off go the girls in their hottest of hot outfits. Leaving me, and there are pictures of this, up to my nose under the covers. Boo. Hate. It blows.
Now, picture 6 hours of that.
The next day I won $12 at the slot machines. The end.
Well not really. But that's about all I can tell. Which is a shame, but I'm going back.
I went into this trip thinking I wasn't going to like Las Vegas but there really is something devil-may-care about the place that's refreshing. And maybe it's the same when you travel to any new place. Or any place where no one knows you and no one expects anything from you other than spending money and having fun. Which seems to be pretty much all there is to do in Las Vegas. No problem with that here. It was really only my stomach that objected to anything last weekend. Every other part of me was completely onboard.
So I will say this. No matter what the $300-for-a-hotel-room-call-doctor says, spring for the $4.50 bottles of water in your hotel room and stay the hell away from the drinking fountains.