Matt and I headed to the airport bright and early for our 9am flight to Las Vegas. We landed shortly after 10am, the earliest we’d ever arrived there. (We’re fans of the postwork late arrival that basically just looses us onto the Strip.) We hopped the airport shuttle and picked up our car, which was a much larger Nissan than I’m used to driving; we wanted one with a trunk, since we’d be leaving it parked with our luggage quite a bit.

Our first important stop was the In-N-Out Burger south of town. We picked up our usual lunch and continued on the interstate to the Hoover Dam. Matt had never been there before, and I hadn’t been in years.

We got there within 45 minutes, drove through the questionable security check, and parked in the ramp. Having been in sub-20s weather in Minneapolis just a few hours earlier, the sun and warmth were a very nice change.

We jumped into the ‘dam’ puns as soon as we arrived. It’s an important tradition to uphold. (I was later pleased to buy some ‘dam mints’ at the gift shop, and I’ve been carrying them around ever since.)

The highway bridge had been constructed since my previous visit, and it made the view even more impressive.

There was a paddleboat tour sailing around Lake Mead north of the dam. I made a note to look into that on our next visit, because I’m pretty sure that would be awesome.

At the center of the dam, there’s a sign marking the border between Nevada and Arizona. I hadn’t noticed that before.

Since Matt hadn’t been to Arizona, we made a point of walking across to the other side. It was Bally’s first visit, too! We’re actually going to Scottsdale in 2015, but it’s not often you can just walk into another state.

We went back across the dam, made the obligatory gift shop visit, and went back to the car. I’ve never actually taken the dam tour, but we decided to save that for later. It’s a time commitment.

On the way out of the visitor center, we drove up to the overlook. Lake Mead looked very appealing from there.

I’d read that it was a more interesting route to take Lakeshore Drive through Lake Mead National Rec Area, so we decided to go back to Las Vegas that way. The desert scrub is pretty great to see, and also it’s easy to get down to the beaches. They’re rock instead of sand, but still scenic.

We stopped at a few more desert overlooks along the way. There seems to be a lot of mysterious industry going on out in the desert.

We exited from the northwest corner of the park, and headed back in the direction of Las Vegas. After a few miles, the desert started changing into this weird terraforming zone, where they were obviously in the middle of building a ton of new properties. We took a wrong turn and ended up in a golf resort neighborhood, which just made me angry with all its perfect green grass and fountains. It’s the desert, for god’s sake. Watering lawns is just wasteful.

We could see Vegas in the distance, so we knew we were headed in the right direction, but Google Maps wasn’t making it easy for us. It sent us down a dead-end road that ended in a future roundabout, and then couldn’t quite figure out another route from there. We finally found a major street that led us back to the south end of town, and from there managed to get on I-5. We took the loop around the west side, and exited to find a spot we’ve wanted to visit since we first started going to Vegas so many years ago: Frankie’s Tiki Room.

It was 3pm and full sun outside, so we walked into the nearly-dark room and were completely blind. We could kind of make out the back of the bar, and saw that there were a few tables with candles on them, but otherwise we couldn’t see anything in the room. We wanted to sit at the bar, but couldn’t even tell if there were people there or not. We had to stand around for a couple minutes before our eyes adjusted enough that we could find seats.

We had a couple drinks and lost $20 apiece on stupid video poker. Matt bought one of their souvenir mugs, which is shaped like a slot machine. We didn’t know it then, but it was the first one of a collection of new tiki mugs we’d get on the trip.

We unfortunately couldn’t stay all night even though we wanted to, because we had show tickets and a car to drive. We decided to head downtown to the hotel before going to get dinner, since it was after the 4pm check-in time. We found our way down to the Plaza, but the parking there was really confusing. We ended up parking in a flat lot a block down (rather than the ramp), and had to roll our bags through some road construction to get into the building.

The casino looked a lot nicer than it had on our previous visit (we’d had dinner at Hash House A-Go-Go a few years back), and the front desk staff was really nice. There was a beer bar in the lobby with a good selection, so we got a drink to take up to the room while we unpacked. We had a great view looking down Fremont Street, too.

Once we were settled, we headed back out to the car and drove to the SLS. I’d done some research, and discovered that Umami Burger had both 1) vegetarian food and 2) a sports book. Plus we wanted to see what they’d done to the former Sahara. The casino was waaay fancier than before, and basically unrecognizable from its previous incarnation. Umami Burger was fantastic, too: we had good food, excellent beer, and there were sporting events on about a billion TVs around us.

After dinner, it was time to head to the Rio for our show. On the way out to the parking ramp, we noticed something I’d seen and totally forgotten about on previous visits: there are footprints ALL OVER THE PARKING RAMPS IN VEGAS. Like on the walls, overhangs, and all over the ceilings. Seriously, look in any parking ramp in Las Vegas and it will look like humans were walking all over the ceiling. Why is that??

The Rio is one of the offstrip casinos we hadn’t been to before (and one I regularly confuse with The Palms, which we’ve stayed at). It definitely wasn’t as nice as I was expecting, and shortly after walking in we were harassed by one of those people trying to get you to play dumb games that are really a way to get you to buy a timeshare or something. (I don’t even know what their scammy bit is about, but it’s dumb and ends up with people littering their fake million-dollar bills all over the place.)

We had tickets to see Penn and Teller at 9pm, and since we had some time to kill, we figured we’d stop and get a drink to bring into the theater. We found a really nice-looking bar at an Italian restaurant down the hall, and got Manhattans to take with us. Then we headed to the theater, and discovered at the door that you weren’t allowed to bring drinks in with you. So we were the super-classy people slamming fancy cocktails at a table right by the entrance. We then went up to our seats in the balcony, and the show started shortly after.

I’d kind of forgotten than Penn is a weird libertarian-type, and was surprised that he managed to work a lot of those opinions into the show. Still, it was really great, and despite having seen them do numerous demonstrations of their tricks on TV, we still couldn’t tell how they pulled any of them off. It was pretty entertaining.

On the way out, we found these photos in the lobby. They disturb me every time I see them.

We drove back downtown and parked at the hotel (in the ramp this time, noting the footprints all over the place). It was close to 11pm (or 1am Minneapolis time), so we decided to go wander around downtown for a very short time before heading to bed. Fremont Street was crowded, the display was going on overhead, and a band was setting up near the hotel. We stopped into the Golden Gate for a drink, and then went to wander.

We ended up at Binion’s, just like we always do. It’s one of our favorite spots to gamble. I wanted to play craps, and ended up being lured to a table by a Canadian couple who saw me looking at it. Matt didn’t want to play dice, so he went to find a blackjack table. I talked to the Canadians for a bit before they wandered off, and then set to losing my money at that table. After a bit, the guy came back and we ended up talking about hockey forever; he was an Edmonton Oilers fan, and had no end of complaints about the fans’ bad attendance and the team just being bad in general. He was envious of the Wild being good, which is funny since that’s a fairly recent development. He also did a really good job of distracting me from craps, which meant I managed to lose $100 more than I thought.

When he took off, I grabbed the rest of my chips and went to join Matt for blackjack. He was doing very well, and I managed to recoup some of my losses too. By the time we decided to wrap up at Binions, it was of course really late at night (this always happens in Vegas). We walked back toward the Plaza and ended up standing and watching the cover band play at the end of the street. The scantily-clad female bartenders from the Golden Gate were up dancing on the bar, and the whole area was surprisingly crowded.

We finally made it back to the Plaza, and decided to stop and get a late-night slice at Pop Up Pizza in the lobby. Because not only did they have good pizza, they had a statue of a horse wearing a lampshade.

Saturday, we got up and headed down to the Strip. We decided to park at Caesar’s because it was centrally-located, though soon discovered that you have to walk about a million miles through the parking lot and the casino even to get out to the Strip.

Bally stopped to say hi to his casino (still under renovation, at least near the front entrance), and then we went to Paris for breakfast at one of our favorite spots, JJ’s Boulangerie.

From there, we went back through Bally’s, and crossed over to Drai’s/The Cromwell. It used to be the Barbary Coast/Bill’s Gamblin’ Hall and is now really fancy, though that means you probably can’t get a crappy $2 margarita anymore. It’s a fine tradeoff.

We cut through the Flamingo, and decided to stop out back to see their namesakes. I’m a fan of the turtles with their names painted on their shells, too.

If you go out the side door of the Flamingo, you’ll find yourself in The Linq. The open-air mall and observation wheel were all new since our previous visit, and I was really excited to see them! (Technically, the Linq is the former Imperial Palace.)

The High Roller is impressive, not to mention photogenic.

FYI, the Linq has a cupcake ATM. We didn’t really want cupcakes (it was apparently out of order anyway), but still. Cupcake ATM.

There are a bunch of bars and restaurants along the block-long pedestrian walkway. Most of them are large national chains, but they’re pretty fun regardless. After looking at the menu at Brooklyn Bowl, we decided we should have lunch there. Having just had breakfast, though, we figured we’d go have a beer or two first. We headed into the Yardhouse to watch some football (which we conveniently had also bet on the previous night).

From there, we went to go check out O’Shea’s. I’d heard over a year ago that it would be closed permanently, but apparently the Caesar’s group changed their minds. It lives on at the Linq, though it’s only a tiny portion of what it used to be. It’s a big room attached to the side of the Linq/Imperial Palace, but it has much of the same trappings, like cheap drinks and tables, and beer pong. Plus it smells a lot better than it used to.

We didn’t see Lucky there, but we did see a good enough version of him outside:

We spent longer than expected wandering around there and the Linq, so then it was time for a late lunch. We walked over to Brooklyn Bowl and took the escalator up to the second floor. They had a small bar area there with TVs showing the games, so we grabbed seats at the bar and ordered food and beer. Our bartender was awesome, and kept trying to convince us to stay until happy hour, which was something like two hours away.

We decided to go back to the Flamingo and do some gambling, since it’d been at least 12 hours since we’d given money away. One of my longstanding goals was to make an irresponsibly large bet on something, and I’d decided on craps. Matt’s not a fan of dice, but he decided he’d try it out this time. I set down a $50 bet on the pass line, and he made a $10 bet. We didn’t crap out, so I put another $50 behind my bet. On the very next roll we won, so I ended up with $200 instead of the nothing I’d expected. I put my initial stake to the side, and we decided to keep playing.

We were there a long time, because the table was running hot. At one point, Matt made a joke about getting an oversized check as a prize for something, and the old guy standing next to him perked up and said, “hey, I have one of those!” He then proceeded to tell us a story about how he won half a million dollars in the lottery several years ago, and had moved to Vegas to become a gambler. Three years later, he’d burned through his money and had to move back home. But he got to keep the giant check, so that was something.

Our lottery friend knew a lot about craps, so he taught us some of the more advanced betting techniques. We also got to experience the world’s longest streak at craps (for me, at least)… we were all waiting on a four, and the British guy rolling just kept going and going. When we finally hit a four, we all erupted in yelling. It was fantastic.

It was dark by the time we left, so it was time for the High Roller. Admission is something like $25, but Matt’s only cost $5 because of their Movember deal. We got tickets, bought glasses of champagne to take along, and went to board. There was virtually no wait, despite it being Saturday night.

We piled into a pod with a few other people, and off we went. The views of the Strip were spectacular, though very few of my pictures turned out due to the glass and movement. Still, it was great.

The whole trip takes a little over half an hour. We hopped off and decided to walk over to the Cosmopolitan for dinner. First, we had to make the obligatory stop at the Chandelier bar, because when you get the chance to have a cocktail in a chandelier, you take it.

Post-drink, we went over to China Poblano and sat at the bar for dinner. It’s one of our favorite places in Vegas, so we’ve been there a lot.

After dinner, we walked all the way back to Caesar’s to get the car, and headed back downtown to the Plaza. We parked, and decided to walk down to Atomic Liquors, a divey bar we’d been meaning to check out forever. It was a little over a mile down Fremont Street, far past the ‘Experience’ and the pedestrian avenue.

They have several of the old neon signs from the Neon Museum set up along the way. Also, the El Corez’ signs are their own museum. It’s oldtimey.

Atomic Liquors was nearly empty, probably something to do with the fact that it was after 1am. But the bartender was super-friendly, and we met a guy at the bar (we called him Vegas Dennis… I have no idea what his real name was) who regaled us with stories about how horrible it was living in downtown Las Vegas. We stayed there talking far too long, and then decided to stop into the El Cortez on the way back for some gambling, which was an equally bad decision. I don’t really know how much I gambled there, but apparently I didn’t do too badly, since I still had money left the next day.

If you don’t have a stumbling, blurry night in DTLV, you should definitely put it on your life to-do list. It’s important.

Late Monday morning, it was time to say goodbye to DTLV. We hauled our bags across the Plaza, loaded them into the car, and drove down to the far end of the strip to park at The Tropicana. It was too early to check in, so we left our stuff in the trunk and went to wander around.

It had been a very long time since we’d visited the south end of the Strip, so we headed into MGM to look around. After walking a million miles to get to the restaurants in the back of the building, we determined they didn’t open til dinner time. We walked all the way back up to the main lobby area and went to the sports bar there for brunch. They ended up having good food and beer despite the look of the place, and there were sports going on on a million TVs. (Mostly reruns, but you’re never sad to stare at sports in Las Vegas.)

Post-lunch, we walked across the street to New York New York to gamble. It’d been a long time since we’d been in there, too! We found a spot at a pai gow table, and ended up playing (mostly successfully) for a long time. By the time we wandered out again it was midafternoon, so we walked over to the Cosmopolitan, wandered around some stores, stopped at the Chandelier bar and got a drink from the same bartender again, and then went into China Poblano to order carryout. We had the same server there, too, so it was basically a Vegas victory lap. I got a mushroom taco, and it was delivered to me in a tiny box to take with me.

We crossed the Strip to Planet Hollywood and grabbed a couch at the sports book to eat our late lunch and do some more sports-gambling. My four-team NFL parlay bet had fallen apart, so I wasn’t that enthused about it at that point, but my taco was delicious.

After hanging out there for a while, we went to check into our room at the Tropicana. It was a really nice newly-remodeled room (even if, in typical Vegas fashion, we had to walk a billion miles to get to it). Our bathroom had a huge Jacuzzi tub, which was awesome. We changed into fancy clothes and headed back out.

The whole hotel seemed to be suspiciously empty, and we saw so few people in the hotel area that we decided we had it to ourselves. (It was Monday of Thanksgiving week, so that probably had something to do with it.) We headed back to the car and drove over to a strip mall in Chinatown, on the west side of the highway toward the very north end of the Strip. There was a wait at Raku, so we put our names on the list and they said they’d text us when it was time. We decided to head to an awesomely divey-looking bar on the other side of the strip mall instead, called Kilroys. It did not disappoint.

Dinner time rolled around, and we walked back over to Raku and got our table. Since we both wanted something less potent to drink, we decided to get a pitcher of Asahi. They neglected to tell us it’d be the largest pitcher of Asahi in the universe:

Our meal there was incredible. They make their own tofu, and it’s hard to describe how amazing tofu can be. Trust me, it was. (Even Matt agreed.) But the far-and-away highlight was the cold green tea soba. Just seeing this picture makes me hungry.

After dinner, we headed back to the hotel. It was late and I was sleepy (and full), so we decided to get a drink at the bar in the VERY EMPTY casino and head up to the room. I filled the bath, and we hung out in the hot tub for a long time before bed.

Despite our fairly early night, I got up Monday feeling terrible. My vertigo had gotten really bad, too, so I spent a lot of time feeling like the world was spinning. We packed up our stuff, checked out of the Tropicana, and loaded up the car.

We then headed back over to Caesar’s Palace to do some shopping and have lunch at the Forum Shops before heading out of town. Matt got some new shoes at the Nike Store, since it’s an obligatory stop every time we’re there.

Then it was time to get on the road. Matt was driving and I was reclining most of the time, trying not to be dizzy. This was his first time driving the Baker/Barstow route through the desert, so he got to experience all of it.

There’s a monstrous solar array out in the desert. I didn’t get a very good picture of it, but it’s massive.

The drive into the Inland Empire (or IE, for those in the know) was uneventful. The thing we noticed most is that it’s HUGE. Everything is so far away from everything else. It’s incredible.

We found our way to San Bernardino, and exited at the road formerly known as Route 66. A few miles down, through a rundown residental area, we found the Wigwam Motel!

(It was actually dark when we arrived, so I took these photos the next day. How awesome is this place??)

Due to the time of year, there didn’t seem to be many other people staying in the wigwams. The front office told us we’d be upgraded to a deluxe model; I didn’t know what the difference was, but we appreciated it.)

The wigwams were small but clean and well-maintained. I like how the windows are at floor level, too. The bed was so tall I could barely climb into it.

We hauled our stuff in, and then headed off in search of dinner. Matt was starting to get hangry, and I still felt crappy so I didn’t really care about food. We’d picked out a place about 15 miles away (because NOTHING in the IE is close), and I gave directions as he drove. We got there to find it was totally packed, with a 45-minute wait. We decided to go elsewhere.

Also, it was really cold there at night! I was wearing a dress and freezing, so I hated even being outside.

Our second plan that night was to go to Hangar 24‘s brewery, so we decided to try that and see if maybe they had food there or something. They didn’t, but they did have a gigantic beer selection. We got all the samples.

By the time we were done we were really hungry, and I felt really crappy, so we decided to just find a grocery store, get some sandwich makings, and go back to the Wigwam. You’d think this would be an easy prospect, right? But no, you have to drive a million miles, and then you find a grocery store that’s like a castoff discount bulk grocery store that only has everything in mega-packs, and you have to drive to another store another million miles away. But finally you’re at Trader Joe’s, and things are looking up again. (I’m pretty sure this Trader Joe’s was still technically in San Bernardino, even though we were 20 miles from the hotel.)

Having obtained food, we went back to the Wigwam to eat, and I went to bed right away afterwards. We needed an early night for once.

Joe and I left work around 1pm, and headed home to meet Matt and Missy at our house. The plan was to carpool to the parking at Terminal 2, since that was cheaper than getting cabs. As we pulled up, I saw a man out front of the house standing outside his Jaguar, and said something to Joe about why the hell he’d be parking in front of our house.

It never occurred to me that he was our ride, because Wendy had bought me a fancy-ass ride to the airport for my birthday. SURPRISE!

I changed into a dress before we left, because the plan was to not wear pants all weekend. It was supposed to be 110 degrees in Vegas the whole time we were there. We grabbed our bags, Kyle (our driver) put them in the trunk, and we rode in style to the airport. I rode in the most style, because I got the front seat and the three of them had to take the back.

The line at security needled me because we were flying Sun Country and therefore couldn’t use our Pre-Check privileges. We finally got through the scanners and into the terminal with enough time to have a pre-flight drink, so we went to Barrio. It’s fairly new to terminal 2, and a very welcome addition to the previous selection of one bar, called something like Grandaddy’s.

After our round of drinks (containing both tequila and absinthe), we headed to the gate. Sun Country’s convoluted boarding process meant that we got on last, which usually doesn’t bother me, but Missy had a roller bag. That turned out to not be a huge issue, though, because the flight wasn’t totally full. We left the gate ahead of schedule, and had a fairly uneventful journey until we hit turbulence coming into Vegas. Joe and Missy, who are infrequent fliers, didn’t take that especially well, and looked a little pale when we finally landed. Early!

We got on the shuttle to the rental car center, which usually only takes about five minutes. Since we were at Terminal 3, though, it took much longer and managed to hit traffic on the way. We finally got there, and I waited in line at Budget for way too long. Our agent was awesome, though, and we ended up with a very comfortable Nissan Maxima. We found it in the lot, cranked the A/C to SUPERULTRAMAX, and got on the freeway.

Our first stop was critically important: In-and-Out Burger. Sadly, Joe wasn’t feeling well enough to eat his (he thought maybe the tequila and absinthe had something to do with it), but the rest of us enjoyed it. We hopped back in the car, drove to the parking garage at Treasure Island, and ditched the vehicle for the night.

By the time we were in line at check-in, it was pretty clear that we’d have to hurry to be on time for our plans. We had tickets to Absinthe at Caesar’s Palace at 8pm, and it was going to take a bit to walk down there. We hurried to our rooms to change (while I was already in a dress, I was wearing a fancier dress for our first night), and then met back downstairs in the lobby. We headed out onto the strip, where it was approximately four billion degrees.

It’s only a couple of Vegas blocks to Caesar’s, but that’s really far in the heat. When we got to the driveway we turned in toward the casino, and that ended up being the long way; Absinthe is in a tent on the plaza, and we had to make a loop around the fountains to get there. We FINALLY arrived just a few minutes before the show. Matt and I got beers at the bar, as well as waters for our suffering friends, and were led to our TINY TINY wooden seats. We were more crammed together there than on any airplane, and we hadn’t come close to cooling off yet.

The show was great, however. It’s a mixture of burlesque, acrobatics, and dirty jokes, set inside a side-show-like tent decorated to look like the steampunk apocalypse. The acrobatics were incredible, and since there are fewer than 10 rows of seats, you’re really close to everything. The burlesque was awesome, too, though the manic announcer lady telling dirty jokes started to get really old after a while. It’s not really shocking after hearing the same thing 40 times.

Missy was having trouble recovering from the shock of the heat, so they left the show midway through and took a cab back to the hotel. I was worried that she hated it, but later she said that she was having a good time, she just felt terrible. That sucked.

The show was just shy of 90 minutes long. Matt and I exited the tent into the heat, stopped at the bar for a beer, and headed back in the direction of our hotel. We had dinner reservations at 10 at the Encore, and it seemed unlikely we’d be able to make it in that amount of time.

We made it inside the Wynn with ten minutes to spare, and were shocked to realize that it’s nearly impossible to walk across an entire casino (let alone two!) in 10 minutes. I felt bad that we were arriving a little late and with only half our party, but they didn’t seem to care much; the place was nearly empty by 10pm.

Sinatra was great. It’s very fancy, so I’m glad we were well-dressed. At one of the tables nearby, they were having a wine tasting: the entire table was covered in bottles and glasses, and the sommelier seemed to have a permanent post there. One of the reasons we’d picked the place is that because Steve Wynn is vegan, he insists that the restaurants there all offer vegetarian and vegan menus. That’s still pretty rare for Vegas.

We ordered cocktails and a caprese salad to start, and then I got agnoletti with butternut squash and sage. Matt had Frank’s spaghetti and clams. There was a giant bread basket, too, with breadstick spirals that I want to eat all the time. Our server tried to push dessert on us, but there was no way that was happening. She brought little candies with the check, and that was plenty.

We worked our way back down the strip, with gambling in mind. I wanted to play Pai Gow, but we couldn’t find any open tables along the way. We finally ended up at the Quad, which is the former Imperial Palace in its half-renovated state. We were thrilled to see that they kept the celebrity impersonator dealers, because they rule. We found a totally empty blackjack table hosted by Donna Summer, and sat down to play. We did very well, and she gave us a pound with her very dangerous-looking rings every time we won.

Somewhere after 2am, we headed back to TI. We stopped at the bar to get Manhattans, and took them up to our room. We weren’t really sleepy yet, so we hung out in bed drinking. That’s just how you do in Vegas.

I woke up early Friday morning despite our late night, because I’m bad at adjusting to time zone changes. That’s always in my favor on the west coast, at least. Matt was still sleeping, so I texted Joe and Missy to see how they were feeling. Joe said that Missy still didn’t feel well and wanted to sleep, but he was going to go wander around. We agreed to meet after I went to pick up coffee for Matt and I at Starbucks.

We walked over to the Mirage, since I’m pretty sure I’d never actually been inside the casino, only at Rhumbar outside. We checked out their awesome sports book, then wandered around til we found a Pai Gow table. Joe hadn’t played before, but he was a quick learner.

Our first dealer didn’t really know much about dealing, either. She kept comparing hands incorrectly, so we’d have to correct her. I hit the bonus with a flush at one point, and she took my cards and called it a push. I told her I had a winner, so she had to call the pit boss over, deal the cards back out, and check. Then she told me I should have alerted her to it. Um, no. That’s not how it works, lady.

Our next dealer was hilarious, but made us really uncomfortable. By then there were two other people at the table, an old Chinese guy and an old lady sitting by Joe. The dealer started telling us (Joe and I… he pretty much ignored the other two) that he was a PhD candidate for some really technical-sounding medical degree, and informed us that everything we were doing there was going to kill us. I agreed, and ordered another cocktail when the server came by. The Chinese man started freaking out that the old lady was blowing smoke in his direction, and the dealer told her that it was going to kill her, and making jokes on that order. I’m not sure if she didn’t hear him or was ignoring him, but it was really incredibly awkward. I’ve had lots of funny dealers in Vegas, but that kind of crossed the line.

Matt showed up after an hour or so, and we decided to cash out. I’d lost $8.50 but gotten two free drinks, so I considered it a win. We went over to look at the sports book, so Matt could explain to Joe how to bet. He did so, and then Matt went to bet. He came back with a free drink coupon that we were both envious of, so I decided to go place my Stanley Cup bet. I did not get a drink coupon, so apparently Matt was special.

(He later theorized that it was because he was betting on a horse race that was about to run, so they assumed you were probably sitting there watching it.)

Missy texted that she was ready for lunch, so we went back to TI, and met up again in the buffet line. Our room came with free buffet coupons that were only usable Friday during the day, so we were set on taking advantage of that.

In addition to the buffet, Matt and I partook in the $4 all-you-can-drink champagne. Seriously. They bring you a coupe of champagne, plus another sizeable juice glass full of it for refills. I assume you could have more if you finished that, but it was only lunchtime and we didn’t want to nap.

The buffet was surprisingly good, and I was glad it wasn’t so extensive that I felt obligated to try everything. They had a sign up about sugar-free desserts, too, so I asked about that. The guy started pointing out options, and then pulled a slice of some chocolate cream pie from a cold drawer. I grabbed that and rushed back to the table, very excited. The two bites of it I had were great; I didn’t want to risk more than that, because I know what they use in those fake sweeteners. They make you an unpleasant person to be around later in the day.

Four more of our friends were arriving later in the afternoon, so one of us had to leave around 5 to go pick them up. Joe volunteered to drive, so we decided to take the car over to the Flamingo, since we were headed there anyway (and of course it was a billion degrees, so we didn’t want Missy to get sick). We drove over there and parked on the top floor of the ramp, thus guaranteeing the car would be as hot as possible when we returned. (We didn’t really have a choice about that part.)

First we went to go see the animals hanging out in their ponds. There were a ton of birds, including flamingoes and pelicans:

After 10 minutes it was hot enough that we couldn’t breathe, so we went to check out the gambling situation. The pai gow tables in the Flamingo were all full, so we wandered over to the side of the building that had been converted to the Margaritaville casino. We found pai gow there, and Matt and I sat down to play with a bunch of old bros who knew each other.

We weren’t doing as well there, so when Joe and Missy came back, Matt and Joe went to play blackjack. I didn’t want to gamble for a bit, and Missy wasn’t feeling great again, so I volunteered to take her back to the hotel. We went back up to the car, and I burned the back of my calf getting in. It was indeed a billion degrees, to the point where it was painful holding onto the steering wheel. The A/C was doing its best, but in the 20 minutes it took me to drop her at TI and drive back to the Flamingo, it was still barely cooling off. I just hiked my skirt all the way up, since I’m all class.

Matt called to say he and Joe were done gambling and had gone to sit outside near Sin City Brewing, by the Flamingo pool entrance. I found them easily at a table with big comfy chairs in the shade, and Matt had a beer waiting for me. Under those conditions, the 112-degree weather was downright pleasant. Joe had half an hour or so to kill before heading to the airport, so we just hung out people-watching on the patio.

The highlight of the people-watching was the security guard pushing a girl up the ramp in a wheelchair. She was so debilitated I thought she had some horrible disease, but when they got closer I realized she was just that drunk and passed out. She was curled up around a beer bucket on her lap to catch the vomit, and she was clearly either headed to the hospital or detox. Holy crap.

Joe left to go to the airport, so Matt and I grabbed some walking beers at Sin City and headed down the strip. The nice thing about walking on that side is that you can mostly stay inside, crossing through casinos. (You can do the same on the other side, but Caesar’s and the Bellagio are built in such a way that you have to walk an extra mile to cut through the building.) We went over to Bally’s to get his picture (as the owner), then played my favorite gigantic slot machine. From there we cut through Paris, then crossed over to Planet Hollywood. We stopped to get drinks at Yolo’s, as per tradition, and planned to take them with us, but then ended up sitting around there for a while. I really like that bar, and have no good reason why (beyond the reasonably-priced build-your-own margaritas).

We grabbed another set of margaritas in go glasses this time, and went over to the PH sports book to see what was going on there. We found a very comfortable couch, so I was happy to hang out there for a while and wait for our friends to be delivered to the hotel.

After a while I started getting “WHERE ARE YOU WHERE ARE WE HAVING DINNER WE’RE HUNGRY OH GOD!” text messages from people. We liked the idea of them coming down to have dinner on the patio at Planet Hollywood, then realized how complicated that might be to arrange: we had four people who didn’t know their way around Vegas, and two of them were staying at the Quad rather than TI. After some debate, Matt and I decided it would just be easier to go back up to meet them and have dinner at Senor Frogs, since we were planning on that already.

We headed out to the street for maximum speed. It was still 110 degrees. We made it in 15 minutes, and I think I dehydrated everything out of my system on that walk, even the margaritas and beer. Holy crap.

We found the six of them waiting outside the restaurant with a buzzer, looking perturbed. I was surprised the place was as crowded as it already was, but you know, Senor Frogs. Finally we went in and got our table for eight (a couple high-tops pushed together). We ordered drinks (with coupons!) and waters, and suddenly everything was fine again. Especially when they came around and made us all stupid balloon hats.

The food was fine, and the place was as entertaining as usual. Toward the end of dinner the staff was up on stage trying to get the crowd on their feet and dancing, so we did that for a while. Next there was the conga line, which we were not too interested in until they told us everyone would have shots poured in their mouths. Well, that’s just the kind of stupid shit I can get behind, so half of us lined up. We were all handed long balloons, and started marching around the restaurant. The shots were red, and the guy pouring them was holding a rag under people’s chins to wipe up the drips. It’s by no means the most sanitary thing we’ve ever done, but that didn’t stop us from getting back in line for a second one.

We got our check after that, and while we were figuring it they started playing the Cupid Shuffle. Wendy, Sarah, Amelia and I ran back to the dance floor to participate, because we can’t not do it. There was a guy trying to hit on Sarah, who’s six months pregnant, and he was so creepy that Wendy had to physically get between them to stop it. There was also a guy so drunk or zoned out that he was doing everything exactly backwards, so that he ended up facing us the entire time.

Oh, Senor Frogs.

When we left, it was nearing time for the show in the lagoon outside TI, so we went out there and lined up for SEXY SIRENS, as they’re called.

The show was something. The sirens were pretty sexy, I guess, but the terribleness of the music and “acting” kind of killed that whole aspect of it. I liked the fire, I guess! And I’m glad we saw it, so none of us have to waste our time with that again.

After the show, we went back inside and found Bill and Katie, who had just arrived on a later flight (and with another car). We decided to walk down to the Quad again to see if we could get a table with one of the awesome celebrity impersonators again, so we all headed off down the strip, cutting through casinos along the way.

When we got there, the tables were all really crowded. We couldn’t find a spot there, but we managed to get a blackjack table over in the main part of the casino instead. Five or six of us sat down to play, and the rest wandered off around the casino. Things started to go awry after a while; Katie was doing really well (and having a great time getting the dealer riled up), but Matt and I were losing way more than we were winning. Once I was down $60 or so, I decided to go win at the bar instead. We went over to the one near the celebrity impersonators and ordered Manhattans, and I hung out talking to Willis until everyone else showed up later. Even Katie ended up losing at that table, so that was not our best gambling experience at all.

We all hung out there at the bar for a while, and some of the group decided they were done for the night. Matt noticed that it was almost midnight, which meant it was about to be my birthday, and decided we should have shots. I didn’t want to get them at that bar, though, because their prices were ridiculous. I suggested we go to Casino Royale instead, because having walked through there before, I knew it was probably the last bastion of low-rent on the strip. Seriously, there’s a Best Western, a Subway, and a Denny’s in the building.

We walked over there, and Matt went to the very busy bar to order. He just asked for some kind of shot from the impatient bartender, so we watched as the guy poured a whole bunch of vodka, then blue on top. Wendy and I cringed. I don’t have a spectacular history with blue drinks. We took the seven of them over to the rest of the group (at the giant Wheel of Fortune), and toasted to my birthday. The shot tasted just like strippers smell!

We headed back toward TI, where we ended up gambling for a while before all heading to bed.

Saturday morning, we all convened in the lobby at TI and headed to the cars. Bill and I had the same rental car in different colors, so I’m sure our 10-person, 2-car caravan looked awesome driving down the strip. Our destination was the Mob Museum, located in the former federal building in downtown Las Vegas. We paid $5 to park our cars in their million-degree parking lot, and went inside for tickets.

I’d wanted to visit the museum since I heard about it, because it’s run by the same group who created the International Spy Museum in DC. They do a good job of telling a story in a way that holds my fleeting attention, and they have a lot of interactive exhibits.

We started by getting in the lineup, which provided no end of entertainment.

They had an exhibit on the St Valentine’s Day massacre, complete with a piece of the actual wall:

Then there was the electric chair. Bally gave it a try.

They had a room devoted to Vegas-related mob history, and the old hotel artifacts were great. They also had video of all the old casinos being imploded.

Farther along in the exhibit, we got to practice our reaction times with a gun. Matt’s a lawbreaker, so he just shot at the cops.

We swung through the gift shop quickly, then all gathered out front where Katie wrangled another tourist to take a group photo on the steps of the museum. It was so hot out, I thought I was going to have an ass-burn from the stairs.

Sarah mentioned that she needed to eat soon, so we devolved into a flurry of “OH GOD PANIC THE PREGNANT LADY NEEDS FOOD RIGHT THIS SECOND!!” and rushed over toward Fremont Street. Matt and I really wanted to see the brand new Detroit-themed casino called The D (seriously, a Detroit-themed casino), so we headed that direction. Doran was just excited about the name.

The game floor was pretty nice, and they had cheap blackjack and even $3 craps. We went upstairs to find the restaurants, and the entire upper floor was a huge collection of old slot machines and other games that actually used quarters. The owners had gathered as many of them as they could find. AWESOME.

Oh, and they had a piece of the Blarney Stone for some reason.

We decided on the D Grill for lunch; it’s the typical burger place that exists in pretty much every casino. They were quick to get us a 10-person table, and our server was really amusing. After ordering, Matt and I rushed to the sports book to see if they were taking bets on the Belmont Stakes, but they didn’t do parimutuel there.

After lunch, we went to get a plastic bucket and roll of quarters from the casino cage so we could play the horse-racing game. It was a really old machine with 8 seats around it and the “track” in the center. You deposited money and made your picks, and then the horses kind of lurched along their individual tracks to the finish. They switched the odds every time, and the favorite always won, so I guess the best play was to just pick that horse every single time. It was pretty entertaining, though.

After we got tired of that, we went back downstairs to look for a table. Conveniently, half of the group was ready to go back to the hotel and head to the pool, and half of us wanted to stay downtown and gamble. Matt, Bill, Wendy, Doran and I couldn’t find open tables at The D, so we stopped to grab a beer and headed to check other casinos.

As usual, Binion’s proved reliable. Matt, Wendy, and I sat down at a pai gow table, and Bill went to go play craps. Doran wandered.

After a while, Matt wasn’t liking his pai gow luck, so he and Doran headed over to The D to play. Doran went right back to the horseracing game, and Matt found a blackjack table. I left pai gow once I was up a little, cashed out, and found Bill at the craps table. I turned my money right back into chips and played that for a while, until it was time to round everyone up to head back. We got Wendy from pai gow, Doran and Matt from The D, and went to the car. We drove back to TI and made plans to meet in the lobby again shortly.

Matt and I went to our room to refresh our sweaty selves, then headed back downstairs. Half the group was going to the car to drive to the Cosmopolitan, and Wendy, Amelia, Bill, Matt and I were going to walk so we didn’t want to have to drive back afterwards. I’d told Wendy to meet us at the bar in the back hallway so we could use one of our check-in coupons for a 2-for-1 slushy drink or beer. We needed sustenance for the long walk to the Cosmopolitan, after all.

It took a while to get our drinks, and then we realized we’d have to hurry to be to the restaurant on time. We rushed off down the strip in the 110-degree heat. Once we got to Caesar’s I suggested we go in through the mall entrance and walk through the building, since it’s easy to get from there to the Bellagio, and then the Cosmopolitan.

That turned out to not be such a great idea. First, when you walk into the mall rotunda, it’s absolutely unclear how you get from there to the casino. You can barely even see the hallway for it, and it’s not obvious which level you should even be on. We circled around there on the escalator for a while, and finally found the hallway. That went well until we ended up at the dead-end near the giant aquarium and had to backtrack. Then it was clear we were almost definitely going to be late.

We wisely decided against walking through the Bellagio, and went out to the strip instead. The fountain show was just starting in front of the Bellagio, so we got to see a tiny bit of that as we rushed past. As we got to the top of the escalator near China Poblano, we saw the other half of the group waiting outside, just being gathered by the hostess to go to the table. WHEW.

They seated us at a long bench-like table near the counter prep area. We ordered cocktails, and started reviewing the menu. I’d forgotten how awesome their food is, and what a variety they have.

We ordered a couple guacamoles for the table while awaiting our other food. While we were eating that, a server suddenly appeared with two brightly-colored pitchers, and handed me a note. Jumi and Josh, who hadn’t been able to make it to Vegas, had bought drinks for my birthday! Between those sizeable pitchers and the cocktails we’d already ordered, we were in good shape.

I got a setas taco and the huitlacoche noodles, which are the best thing ever. The rest of the table was freaking out with excitement over the golden pigs, i.e. pork donuts. They loved them. Seeing small plates for ten people arrive constantly at the table was pretty amusing.

After a very long dinner and a mezcal sampling flight, we were finally ready to go. It took half an hour to figure out the bill, but we worked it out, and headed out into the casino. As per usual, half the group was ready to go back already, and then rest of us (me, Matt, Wendy, Amelia, Doran, and Sarah) went to wander. We tried to find a table in the Chandelier, but it was really busy. We went to Bond instead, since it’s an equally awesome bar. There were no seats there either, but we found a rail to stand around. Since it’s right at the front entrance of the casino, people-watching there was incredible.

After we finished our drinks, we headed across the street to Planet Hollywood. We cut through the casino there, and stopped at the Cabo Wabo walkup window so Matt could buy me a birthday shot from Sammy Hagar.

From there we crossed into Paris, and walked through the hallway with all the shops. We stopped to watch the giant slot machine outside Bally’s, and Wendy and Amelia went to find machines to play on. Sarah wanted to go into L’Art de Paris, the store with a million creepy sculptures, so we followed them in there. We were the only ones in the shop apart from some surly-looking guys working there. They had “no photography” signs everywhere, but Sarah still snuck one of a Jesus on the cross with large, shapely breasts. Then we got the hell out of there.

Matt and I played on some video poker machines for a while, then found Doran and Sarah again. Wendy and Amelia were headed back to the hotel. Matt and Doran stopped at the bar to get Jameson on the rocks, which arrived in super-cute rounded miniature rocks glasses. I told them we were keeping them, and we headed out the front door to the next casino.

We finally ended up at The Quad again. I figured it was a good choice since Sarah was undoubtedly getting tired, but she corrected me quickly: she was going to stay up and hang out, because that’s what you do in Vegas. The tables were all packed, so we picked a spot at the usual bar there and ordered manhattans. We stood around there talking for a few drinks and what seemed like a very long time, watching the celebrity impersonators.

Doran wandered off to use the bathroom, and when he returned he was sans cute stolen glass. Sarah asked where it went, and he looked alarmed and headed back in the direction of the bathroom. A few minutes later, he returned with a shotglass… a different one that he’d found sitting out. He got laughed at for that, and Sarah told him they were taking that one instead.

We said good night to them and walked back to TI. We decided to stop at the bar for a room drink, so Matt headed toward the place we’d been the previous night. I told him no, we should go to the bar on the other side of the casino, because that one was better. He told me there was no other bar, but I insisted that I knew where it was. I led him around the outside of the game floor to the better bar… which turned out to just be the far end of the one he was going to. I deserved the laughing-at that I got for that.

We got up, grabbed coffee at Starbucks, took the bags to the car, and checked out of TI. Bill and Katie had already left for the airport (painfully early in the morning), so we were down to one car again.

Wendy had texted earlier to say they wanted to go to Pink’s Hot Dogs down at Planet Hollywood, and that Doran was interested too. We had no interest in walking that far in the heat again, so we told them we’d meet up with them after brunch. Matt, Joe, Missy and I headed toward Emeril’s Stadium, our favorite sports book restaurant in the Palazzo.

The place was conveniently located directly across the street from TI; we could see the entrance when we walked out the door. But because it’s Vegas, you can’t just cross the strip there: you have to take the overpasses. We took an elevator to the overpass to Fashion Show Mall, another overpass to the Wynn, and an elevator again because the escalator was broken. Finally we crossed the overpass to the Palazzo and went inside. We were outside just long enough to get exhausted from the heat.

Emeril’s was just opening, so we had our pick of seats. We chose the couches set up as massive stadium seating facing the massive TVs and the actual sportsbook. We ordered brunch, a pitcher of drinks, and hung out in incredibly comfortable fashion.

A short time later, I got a text from Doran asking where everyone was. Apparently though he’d expressed interest in Pink’s, they hadn’t actually made plans. I wasn’t sure where Wendy was, either, but I told him to get in touch with her. They finally met up at some point, and started the long journey to Planet Hollywood.

We wrapped up our brunch at leisurely pace and headed over to the Mirage. The plan was to meet up with Wendy and Amelia there later, since we both had Groupons for 2-for-1 drinks at Rhumbar, which we’d enjoyed with Wendy on the previous visit.

We stopped at the sports book at the Mirage, because Emeril’s didn’t have the bet Joe wanted. He bet, Matt redeemed his free drink ticket, and then he and I went to place a few more bets. There was a horse race coming up, so he bet on that and got another free drink ticket. Apparently that’s the trick… bet on something that you’re probably going to be sitting there watching.

Wendy texted to say they were just leaving, and that they would meet us at Rhumbar. We went in and got a table in the back corner of the patio, one of the few spots in the shade. A server came by and we gave her our Groupon. Missy and Joe just wanted water. She told them apologetically that there was a 2-drink minimum on the patio, so Missy asked if a ginger ale was OK because of her heart condition. She seemed OK with that explanation (and Joe’s lack of order), though, so apparently we were fine. The patio was nearly empty anyway.

It was still ridiculously hot, but the shade and their intermittent mist-fan helped a little. We were still way happier with that than the crappy weather in Minneapolis, plus we were leaving soon. Joe seemed to not mind too much, and went ahead and took a nap at the bar.

We had another round, and Wendy was still nowhere to be found. We hung out longer, and finally our drinks were happy and we had no good excuse to stay any longer. We got our check and went back to the sports book to wait.

There was still half an hour left til we had to head out, so I went to go play craps with $40, and Joe came along to watch. I feel like I did a good job of convincing him he should play sometime, since I turned it into $100 pretty quickly. We went back to the sports book just as the rest of the group arrived, looking completely exhausted. They said they’d tried to do the same thing we did in Caesar’s, and gotten lost for AN HOUR.

We all went to the tram and rode over to TI. Matt, Joe, Missy and I went to get the car, and the rest went to pick up their bags at the desk and get a cab to the airport. We dropped the car off at the rental center, then got on the bus to the airport. We got through security fairly quickly, so Matt and I sent Missy and Joe off to the gate, and headed to the inter-terminal tram.

The Centurion Lounge, American Express’ first airport lounge, had opened recently at McCarran, and they’d sent all their platinum cardholders a year-long free entry pass. Unfortunately it was only good for the cardholder and a spouse, so we couldn’t bring everyone. I already wrote a review the place here, but the short version is this: IT’S AWESOME.

Our flight home was fairly uneventful, and the parking shuttle was waiting for us at the terminal. We were home 15 minutes later, thus cementing my opinion that the Park and Fly lot is great. Also, that that was a hell of a birthday party weekend.

Friday afternoon, I picked Wendy up from work and we drove to our house to meet Matt and Amelia. We headed to the airport, parked in the long-term parking (it’s kind of funny any time airport parking is cheaper than cab rides, but for a weekend trip that’s definitely the case), and went to get in line at security. The line was pretty long, but we jumped in the experienced traveler lane and headed right to the front behind only four or five other people.

While we were standing there waiting, a lady loudly demanded to know why this group of people got to jump right to the front of the line. The TSA agent explained the rules in a defeated way, making sure to mention a few times that it was “self-selected”. For some reason this seemed to set her off even more, even though she clearly could have chosen the lane herself. Plus we were all in compliance, with our small carry-ons and shoes and plastic toiletry bags at the ready. We stood there laughing amongst ourselves as she threw a fit to anyone who would listen, and finally got past the agent and to the scanners. And for the first time ever, I didn’t get the pat-down after my body scan!

We went to grab food for the plane, then met up with Wendy, Amelia, Jumi and Josh at the extremely crowded gate. For the first time, Matt and I got to take advantage of my reclaimed Delta elite status and board the airplane early. We had economy comfort seats in the front, and the difference was kind of amazing. The seats are larger, and there’s much more leg room. Having access to those is a pretty excellent benefit.

Matt and I decided to celebrate, since we were heading to Vegas for his birthday. I’m very classy, obviously:

We arrived in Vegas 40 minutes early, got the bus to the rental car center, and headed off to find our super-sexy minivan. It took us forever to find it in the lot, and then Josh spent what felt like an hour taking photos in case of insurance claims. I was dying sitting in the parking lot way too far away from the Strip. Finally we headed out, and drove up the Strip to the Flamingo, our hotel. There may have been some yelling out the windows along the way.

We stopped at Sin City Brewing on the way to the front desk, because we’d been in Vegas for close to an hour and hadn’t had a drink yet. We ended up with individual pitchers of beer, which solved the not-having-a-drink problem but quick. We passed by the huge line at check-in and went to the automated kiosks instead. They even let us pick our own rooms! We all headed upstairs, with plans to meet again shortly.

We’d all booked the Go rooms at the Flamingo, since Matt and I loved them so much last time. (Not just because the bathroom mirrors have TVs in them, but it’s a plus.) We dropped off our stuff, finished our beer pitchers, and met up in the lobby to go back to the car. We piled in, and Josh got on the freeway to downtown Las Vegas.

We parked and headed off in the general direction of the Plaza, which we’d never been to before. There was the typical Fremont Street Entertainment along the way, including sexy saxophone man playing on a truck:

There was also a shot stand, of course.

We got to the Plaza and headed to Hash House a Go Go. I’d heard that it was awesome, but had no idea that all of their food arrives in portions of this quantity. Holy crap, everything was gigantic and awesome.

After dinner, we wandered back down Fremont in search of some gambling. We stopped into a tiny casino just to get Mardi Gras beads, then decided on Binion’s. Matt and I found a blackjack table, and everyone else wandered off for other forms of betting.

We had a really entertaining Italian dealer, and for most of the time it was just the two of us at the table. That session resulted in one of the scariest bets I’ve made yet: I split a pair of threes, and was dealt an 8 and another three. I doubled on the one and re-split the other, and ended up with $60 on the table. The dealer busted. WHEW.

Matt and I had wanted to visit the Downtown Cocktail Lounge, so we notified our friends of the plan and headed down toward the other end of Fremont. There were people ziplining above us (that was new since our last visit), and the Fremont Street Experience was showing giant QR codes in the sky. We got a table at the cocktail lounge and ordered drinks. It was particularly exciting, because Vegas has not been known as a mecca of good cocktails until really recently. This was our kind of place.

Josh, Jumi, Wendy and Amelia arrived a bit later, and we found it hilarious watching them try to open the door of the bar and fail (the handle is hidden). We had another round of drinks there, then headed back to the hotel for the night.

Saturday morning, we met Wendy and Amelia and walked down to Paris for our usual brunch of French rolls, fruit, and cheese at JJ’s Boulangerie. We then went to the gigantic slot machine at Bally’s to lose $1 apiece, then decided to go wander around Planet Hollywood for a while. We walked through the mall, made the required stop at ABC Stores, then went into the casino to see if there were any good tables open. There weren’t, so we went to get drinks at the bar instead. Amelia had gone to play slot machines, so we searched for her for a long time, and finally found her in the back.

We set a time to go meet Jumi and Josh (who were apparently at the Las Vegas swap meet that morning), then stopped to get Amelia a drink at Sammy Hagar’s bar before walking over to Bill’s to check on the tables there. Matt went to go get himself a birthday scotch while I found a Pai Gow table, and convinced Wendy to try it out (thus beginning a long obsession). Amelia went to find a slot machine. I was doing well after a while, so I went to cash out while I was up. Then it became time to go get our ride, so we gathered everyone and went to find the van waiting at the Flamingo.

We met Josh and Jumi and headed back downtown for our tour of the Neon Boneyard. It’s something I’ve wanted to do since I heard about it a few years ago. We parked, and along the way found somebody’s manifesto on a lamppost.

The Neon Boneyard was everything I hoped it would be. (My entire photoset is here.)

The Neon Museum is in the process of being built next door to the Boneyard location, but it won’t be up and running until late 2012. In the meantime, they just have a huge empty lot full of old Vegas signs, and they also curate the exhibits along Las Vegas Avenue and Fremont Street. Out front of the museum is the Silver Slipper sign that Howard Hughes believed was monitoring his thoughts, so he bought it and took it down.

The tour lasts about an hour, and is totally worth your time. Especially once the museum is open, I imagine.

On the way back from the Neon Boneyard, we stopped at In-N-Out Burger for lunch, something which all of us (even me, the vegetarian) were way too excited about. While Matt and I were waiting for our food, a guy came up to him, pointed at the logo on his shirt, and said, “Pleepleus! Drink!” He was referring to the mascot logo for the show ‘Drinking Made Easy’, and he was so excited to find someone else who knew about it that he insisted on having his photo taken with Matt. Hilarious.

We had lunch outside, making sure all the local birds got extra-fat on french fries. We then went back and parked the van at the hotel, and it was time to go gamble. After stopping for drinks at Margaritaville first, of course. (The bartenders are very proud of their flair skills there, and they were admittedly pretty impressive.)

We all walked over to Imperial Palace, where there were celebrity impersonators singing karaoke on the stage in the middle of the casino floor, and all the pit bosses were going table to table handing out Mardi Gras beads. (It’s my kind of casino.) We managed to find a Pai Gow table where five of us could play together (Amelia still wouldn’t be convinced of its awesomeness), so it was perfect. Josh and Jumi didn’t know how to play, but the dealer was more than happy to teach them.

Josh had an incredible run of bad luck, and kept getting cleaned out. The dealer even had him trying old superstitions involving getting up and circling his chair clockwise three times, which didn’t work so well because he was crowded against another table, went the wrong direction, and only made it twice. Most of us were doing pretty well consistently, and the dealer even convinced me to start playing the fortune bonus, even though I know what a sucker bet it is. I managed to hit it several times, though, and often made up there what I lost on regular hands. I realized I was consistently over my original stake, so I started shoving chips in my pockets whenever I won. After a while, I got up to use the restroom, and realized that I was going to spill chips all over the place if I didn’t cash out. I did that, and saw I was already up $75.

Back at the table, we were all many free drinks and strings of beads into the afternoon. We kept rotating between two dealers, both of which were awesome and had us rolling on the floor laughing. After Wendy made a “winner, winner, chicken dinner” joke, she started yelling things like NO CHICKEN FOR YOU, BABY!! and CHICKEN FOR EVERYBODY!! It was basically the greatest gambling experience ever, and I was sad when we realized we had to leave and start getting ready for our dinner plans. I cashed out my chips again, and was doing far better than I ever have in Vegas.

Jumi, Josh, and Amelia headed back to the hotel to do responsible things like clean up and nap, while Matt, Wendy and I went over to the Mirage. We grabbed couches at Rhumbar (their awesome patio bar), and noticed that they were showing the 3-point competition at the NBA All-Star Game. It took one glance at the menu to see what we were ordering: The Scorpion Bowl. It’s a tiki drink with three kinds of rum, gin, and rum-soaked cherries, costs $50, and has a two-person minimum. Wendy and Matt Tebowed at the sight of it.

The added bonus to being there was that we got to watch Kevin Love win the 3-point competition!

With a good amount of rum in our systems, it was time to go back to the hotel to change for dinner. It was Matt’s birthday, so we were all dressing up fancy-like and going to Jaleo (Jose Andres’ tapas restaurant) for dinner. We walked down to the Cosmopolitan, met up with the others, and got a table right under the luchador cow.

The food there was excellent. It’s always confusing when you get small plates, and you think you’re never going to be full, and then suddenly you want to die. (I could probably live on pan con tomate or their cheeses pretty easily, which was good since the menu wasn’t exactly vegetarian-friendly.) Their Sidecar wasn’t half bad, either, and Matt had the legendary gin & tonic.

After dinner, we went downstairs to drink at the Chandelier. We were really excited for everyone else to experience the joy of drinking inside a giant lamp. We had a hilarious server, and the drinks were great as always. (There was an elaborate one involving dry ice that was really entertaining.)

From there, we headed back up the Strip to do some more gambling. I was the only one who wanted to play craps, so I took up a spot at a table at Bill’s. The crowd there was interesting, and I made pals with the Australians next to me. While I’d played craps before, I’ve never wanted to roll the dice, but since I’d had maybe a few drinks, I decided to accept the dice this time. The first time, one of the dice didn’t make it to the far wall of the table. The second time, the same thing happened. I was getting pretty embarrassed, but the third time was good, and eventually I rolled the point again. (Watching other people throw later, I wasn’t so embarrassed anymore… half of them threw the dice off the table.) And again, I won a bunch of money but have no clue how much… I just grabbed my pile of chips and took them to the counter when it was time to go.

Matt and I eventually went back to the Flamingo, and stopped for a drink at Margaritaville. Neither of us had any idea what time it was, because our phones had been dead for hours. And who needs to know the time in Vegas, really?

I woke up Sunday morning, and it was time for the reckoning. We checked out, piled our stuff in the car, and drove up to the Stratosphere. We were running a little late, so we rushed upstairs and headed right to the SkyJump desk to check in. That’s because it was time to JUMP OFF THE STRATOSPHERE.

Wendy and I were the jumpers, and everyone else came along to cheer for us and cross their fingers that we didn’t die. I paid $110 cash for my jump, which I noted proudly was all from my gambling proceeds. They took us in back to suit up in sexy blue jumpsuits and a giant harness that was way heavier than I expected. We had to empty our pockets and leave all of our stuff in lockers, so I gave my camera to Matt. Then they weighed us, and wrote our weight on the inside of our wrists in Sharpie. To our relief, the weight was in kilograms. (Fun fact: the harness must weigh almost ten pounds, now that I’ve finally done the conversion math.)

We said goodbye to our friends and loved ones (and promised not to die), then headed to the elevator while they went out to the patio to watch our jump. We were led by a SkyJump attendant, and there was one other lady with us. She agreed to jump first so we could see how it went.

They led us right to a waiting pen in the observation deck, and closed the gate. People immediately started wandering over to see what was up, and asking us about how it worked. We watched them lead the other lady into the glass booth where two attendants were preparing people. It seemed to take forever, even though I think it was only about five minutes or so. Finally they led her out to the edge of the platform and she jumped. Once that happened, the people gathered around us started asking even more questions, and we really didn’t want to talk about it anymore. Waiting for it was the worst part.

It was my turn next. I wished Wendy good luck and headed into the booth while the people at the observation deck bombarded her with questions. She didn’t look happy about it at all. The attendant checked my harness for tightness, then checked my shoes and my earrings too. Next the other attendant came up and did the same exact thing, so they had a double-check of everything. They asked me a few questions, and then the guy took me out into the platform. He told me to hold the railing on the right with both hands while he attached the line to my harness. For some reason, I hadn’t expected it to be so windy up there, but it freaked me out a little. Once I was connected, he told me to step up with my toes over the edge, and to reach over and grab the railing on the left with my other hand. That railing seemed REALLY far away. Then he counted down from three, and I jumped.

I screamed for a second, but then realized that the line caught right away and it would be a smooth ride the whole way down. There was plenty of time to look around, but I didn’t really absorb any of it. I noticed that there were lounge chairs on the patio below me, and that the people in the lounge chairs were probably our friends. I spend the other few seconds of my jump picking them out and waving hi to them.

As for landing, the guy had told me to arch my back so I could land on my feet. I did that, and stood for a second before falling over onto my ass. It was a valiant effort! They sent me to get out of my jumpsuit, because there was enough time in between to do that and then watch for Wendy’s jump. I did that and went to hang out with Matt, Amelia, Jumi and Josh. I was shaking, and so adrenaline-filled that I couldn’t even manage to make a movie of Wendy jumping… I just kept turning the camera on and off instead of being able to work the controls.

Anyway, what I would tell you about jumping off the Stratosphere is to DO IT NOW. It’s amazing, and I want to go again.

After Wendy got un-suited, we were all dying of hunger, so we went downstairs to Roxy’s Diner for brunch. While we waited for our food, Josh got a gigantic milkshake in a souvenir Stratosphere glass, and used a straw wrapper to build a scale model of our jump from the top. After eating, we headed to the van and drove back down the Strip, with an extended stop at TI where Josh disappeared inside for what seemed like hours, picking up their show tickets for later.

Our destination was the famed Las Vegas sign, which we’d been meaning to revisit forever. Since our last stop there a few years back, they’ve added a parking lot and Vegas representatives there to take your picture and in some cases (like the showgirl), collect tips.

All but one of us knew what else was up with our stop there… Wendy was planning to propose to Amelia! And she did, in front of a long line of waiting people and the showgirl. It was awesome.

After the engagement, we piled back in the van and went to park at the Bellagio. Matt and I wanted to do our usual shopping trip at Caesar’s, so we all walked over that direction. Of course our shopping trip involved stopping at the bar in the mall for gigantic Long Islands, too, so we did that. Shanghai Tang didn’t have anything spectacular, and Matt didn’t see anything he needed for his birthday gift at the Nike store, so we went back to the casino. We wanted to find the barge-with-a-bar that Steve had excitedly reported about on a previous trip, so I used the magical power of Google Maps and their inside casino view to locate it. That still didn’t make finding it that much easier, especially with construction in Caesar’s, but we eventually got there and it was CLOSED. Jerks.

Matt and I wanted to possibly do more gambling and hang out at the bar, so we all made plans to meet up at the car later, and headed our separate ways. We used our two-for-one coupons at the Caesar’s bar (that’s the only way to make their drinks somewhat affordable), then went to the sports book across the way. (It’s my favorite, mostly because I’ve napped there before.) I picked Syracuse to win the National Championship (this was before Fab Melo got DQed, of course), and the WCHA to win the hockey championship. I’m too superstitious to bet directly on the Gophers, not that I could have at that point anyway.

I went to play craps again, but that $40 disappeared quickly. We decided to walk back to the Bellagio to see if we could get into Fontana Bar to watch the fountains, but couldn’t find it in the spot we expected it to be. We finally asked a girl at the podium outside a club, and she said it had been replaced. The club was opening in a bit, but we didn’t like the sound of that. We racked our brains about a good spot to visit, and then had our ‘duh’ moment: the Cosmopolitan was right next door, and the Chandelier Bar was the perfect place to end our visit to Vegas.

It ended as they all do… way too soon. We went back to the Bellagio garage and found everyone else waiting for us in the van.

Jumi and Josh had a later flight out, so they dropped us at the airport. Our flight was uneventful but late, so we didn’t arrive in Minneapolis til almost 1am. Thank god I’d told work I would be late on Monday.

There’s nothing quite like the traditional Friday afternoon flight to Vegas. It’s perfect.

We got to the airport a little early, so we hung out at Grandaddy’s Bar, a Humphrey Terminal favorite. We’d just gotten another round as the gate agent came to announce that they were leaving early. We slammed our drinks and headed for the plane.

I will never be sure why Sun Country has Willie Wonka in their safety cards. Also, no SkyMall. What?

Right before takeoff, I looked up to see a large man in an amazing white wig grinning his way down the aisle. He was causing quite a stir, because it was Gary Spivey. The guy behind us yelled, “Hey Gary! Will I get lucky in Vegas?” Gary replied, “Only if you don’t gamble!”

We got to Vegas a little early, around 5pm, and took a cab to our hotel. We had a free place to stay at Polo Towers, courtesy of our landlord. This is the view from our balcony:

There was no bed in our room, and its location was not immediately evident. We finally realized there was a murphy bed integrated with a couch; it required removing all the cushions and lowering it from the wall. It took us so long to figure it out, I’m really glad we didn’t wait til we’d been drinking. We’d have ended up sleeping on the floor.

We had some time to kill, so we went over to one of our favorite bars at Planet Hollywood, called Yolos.

After a drink, we went back to our hotel to change into fancy clothes. Because I’d had managed to obtain some kind of foot injury in the previous week, to the point where I could barely walk and was on anti-inflammatories, we decided to take a cab rather than walk over to the monorail at Excalibur. I’m sure I looked awesome limping in a dress.

Our town car driver was fantastic. He told us about his favorite bars at Mandalay, and all about the great gambling at Hooters, interspersed with tirades about how much he hated his phone.

We went to Rumjungle for a cocktail before dinner, and were immediately in love. The place was huge and industrial-looking, and they had about 40 rums behind the bar. The bartender was rushed and sarcastic. The drinks were killer strong, and seemed to all be served in pint glasses.

We vowed to return later, and headed over to Fleur de Lys for our 9:30 dinner reservations. They ushered us into the bar, and the bartender made me some kind of delicious drink based on my vague specifications. It’s possible we were more than a little tipsy by then anyway. Then they led us to our table, and we ordered the tasting menu: vegetarian for myself, and the regular version for Matt.

It was nearly impossible to take photos in there, as it was dark and I didn’t want to use the flash. We mostly took them so we could remember how amazing it was, because it was honestly the best meal of my life. (Here are the rest of the photos from Fleur de Lys.)

I had six courses, and Matt had at least 8 or 9. Everything was amazing. He even got two dessert courses, and then we had after-dinner espresso while Matt was presented with a cookbook signed by Hubert Keller. We were so absolutely thrilled with that meal; it was worth every cent.

Dan and Kate, who had arrived the day before us, had just finished their show at New York New York, so we decided to go to eyecandy to wait for them. It’s the lounge in the middle of the casino floor, and had been recommended by the Bradstreet folks. There was a DJ and people dancing in the back, and a bunch of couches around the bar area. Dan and Kate joined us a bit later, and we hung out til Matt and I were ready to collapse. We finally grabbed a cab back to our hotel, and proceeded to do so.

We got up with plenty of time to make it to our pre-noon plans, which is always surprising in Vegas. We headed up the strip toward Caesar’s, figuring we’d have plenty of time to get there by 11:30, but we barely made it!

It’s possible I stopped to take a lot of pictures. At Caesar’s, we headed toward Mesa Grill to meet April and Kara for brunch! They’d driven up from San Diego the day before.

I’ve never been a huge fan of Bobby Flay just because of his personality on his Food Network shows, but I’m very glad we chose his restaurant for brunch. Everything was fantastic; I even looked up the recipe for the chilaquiles I’d had, and made them again at home with food from our garden.

After brunch, Matt and I headed off for another favorite Vegas tradition: hitting up the bar in the Forum Shops for a long island (it’s something like 47 shots, I think), and shopping. Though we went into my favorite store, Shanghai Tang, I managed to not need anything there. To make up for it, Matt got a really awesome shirt.

Post-shopping, it was time for more cheap gambling. We were in search of a blackjack table, but they were full across the street at O’Shea’s. We played video poker and blackjack instead, and enjoyed the amazing ambiance of the place. Classic rock and a beer pong arena? You can’t possibly go wrong.

There was a leprechaun outside yelling, too, but he disappeared before I could take his photo. Of course.

We set off in search of tables elsewhere, and eventually managed to find Pai Gow at the Flamingo. It was a $10 minimum, but it’s the kind of game where your hundred bucks can last a really long time. And if you get lucky, you’ll even end up winning:

After a couple hours of gambling, we decided we needed to find beverages. We tried to get to the bar at Margaritaville (for old times’ sake), but it was packed. Instead, we headed down to Bill’s Gamblin’ Hall to get us some dollar margaritas.

As I learned last time we were in Vegas, there’s a trick to the dollar margaritas: they fill the cup most of the way with overly sweet nonalcoholic mix, then pour a shot of Sauza on top. Drink the tequila off the top and throw out the rest of the drink. Who wouldn’t pay a buck for a big shot of tequila, anyway?

We decided it was probably time for some sports-betting, as it was something we were both very interested in, and had never done before. We walked over to Bally’s to get on the monorail, stopping to put a dollar in the giant slot machine. We won $10, cashed it out, and got our tickets.

We rode up to Harrah’s, and walked from there to the Venetian. It was hot… almost 100 degrees.

We had less luck playing $5 on Wheel of Fortune at the Venetian, but that was fine. We finally made our way into the Palazzo, and from there found the entrance to the sports book on a weird basement level. However, the sports book (called Legasse’s Stadium, after Emeril), was packed full. Something to do with a million college football games, of course. The girls at the counter said there would be a very long wait for a table, but we were welcome to pay a ridiculous cover charge for a VIP table. It amounted to having to spend about $100 total, which seemed unlikely for just the two of us.

We managed to find a table out on the patio and began perusing parlay cards. After 20 minutes or so, there was still no sign of a server. As we were starving by that point, we decided to get the hell out of there and find some food before we passed out. Sports could wait.

We crossed over to TI to check out a couple places that were on my potentially-awesome list. After walking around for way too long and considering just laying on the floor, we decided on Isla Mexican Kitchen. It was an excellent choice, and they had great vegetarian food. Also, who could go wrong with mas tequila*?

*Yes, that was a Sammy Hagar shoutout.

Revived, we started making our way back down the strip. We had plans to meet Dan and Kate later in the evening to celebrate Kate’s birthday, so we figured we’d head back to the hotel, change, and work our way towards Mandalay.

We rode the monorail with a bunch of people who were going to the fight at MGM. We had to wade through throngs of people near the MGM event center, but it was kind of fascinating to see. After changing, we made the somewhat unwise decision to walk to Hooters. It seemed really close (like everything in Vegas), but we soon discovered there was no direct route there. We had to circle the block our hotel was on, go down the back road behind MGM, and then got stuck trying to make our way past limos, buses, and security guards, all while sweating our asses off in the 90-degree (at night!) weather. We finally traversed a parking garage and found our way to Hooters. It took forever.

It took a long time to find a place to drink, get drinks, and decide what to do. However, the drinks cheered us up, as did the fact that the bartender comped them even though we went to the bar, because we were gambling (I think I put $5 in a video poker machine). We liked Hooters a lot better after that.

Dan texted to say they were done with dinner, so we headed towards Mandalay via the tram from Excalibur. Strangely, my limp was improving. I was on anti-inflammatories, but I’d expected Vegas to make my foot injury a lot worse. Obviously, it’s magical.

We met up with Dan, Kate, and a couple friends at Rumjungle. The $10 cover was surprisingly low for a really awesome club at 1:30am. I was really sad to not be able to dance, but it was great watching the dance floor. After their friends headed out (they had an early flight the next morning), I told Dan I didn’t think I’d be able to make it much longer. He did a small amount of arm-twisting, though, and we caved: to the strip club! We went out front, grabbed a cab, and headed downtown.

I should mention that we didn’t have a plan for the strip club at all; Dan just looked one up on his phone, checked reviews, and we were off. We chose well, too: the Girls of Glitter Gulch is legendary. Everyone knows the sign, at least.

There was a $20 cover, which included the first drink free. Our server, a stiff-but-friendly Russian lady named Dacha, led us to a round booth along the wall and took our orders. We watched the ladies dancing and occasionally had to say no to lap dance offers, but there was nothing pushy about it. Eventually, we all ended up spending time on sniffer’s row. I may be a little scarred from having cougar boobs in my face, though. I guess it was our fault for going up there just because the girl she was onstage with was really hot.

Somewhere between 4 and 5am, it was time to call it a night, so we shared a cab back to our hotels. The best part was when the driver just pulled over in front of the Monte Carlo, stopping traffic, and Matt and I had to jump out and run across the strip. Man, I love Vegas.

Sunday, we got up very late. Unsurprising, since we didn’t get to bed til after 5am. The surprising thing was that we weren’t terribly hung-over.

We walked over to Planet Hollywood, did some shopping at the ABC Store (it’s a tradition begun in Hawaii), then went over to Paris. We were waiting on Dan and Kate to have lunch, so we killed some time playing video poker there. I don’t remember the exact result, but I know at least one of us won. We were doing pretty well with the low-stakes gambling!

In Bally’s, we had to play the giant slot machine again. This time we won $10.

Dan texted to say they couldn’t make it, so Matt and I went to have lunch at Le Burger (“it means ‘the burger’!”). It was delicious, but neither of us was up for the Eiffel Tower of Power so early in the day. Plus you could only get beer in it. That’s just not great.

Instead, I decided to finally give in to my urge to buy a ridiculous souvenir glass at Paris. I’d been wanting one ever since the first time I went to Vegas, so it was about time. I got a margarita in a ceramic balloon!

Matt posing with the balloon

The balloon was a great idea until we got about halfway back to the hotel. It was maybe only half a mile, but it was ridiculously hot, we were tired, and I was well into my margarita. It got heavier and heavier, to the point where I was pretty sure it weighed 10 pounds. I survived, though!

We changed and went up to check out the rooftop pool. It wasn’t huge, but it was pretty much perfect.

We bobbed around til we were too cold to do so anymore, then headed downstairs to shower. Afterwards, we walked over to New York New York to get a pretzel to tide us over til dinner, because god knows when that would happen. We forget to eat regularly in Vegas, for some reason.

We had plans to meet Dan and Kate later on in the evening at the Stratosphere, so we decided to start working our way up that direction. We walked to the monorail at MGM, and rode all the way up to the convention center. Matt wanted to make a stop at the Peppermill, and without knowing exactly where it was, that seemed to be the closest stop.

Man, were we wrong. What felt like several miles later, we found our way into the Sahara. We still had no clue where the Peppermill was, so we figured we could go wander and find it. That usually ends really badly in Vegas, of course.

We did end up walking forever, but we managed to find the Peppermill past Circus Circus and the Riviera. Whatever you do, don’t get off the monorail at the convention center; there’s a stop right at the Sahara!

You know what? The long walk was absolutely worth it. Look at this place:

That’s a fountain with FIRE in the middle.

That’s Matt looking like this was one of the best days of his life.

We had a couple drinks there at the most gloriously oldschool bar in town, and spent time talking to the awesome bartender about sports. We’d probably have stayed all night (moving over to the Perkins-esque side of the place when we needed to eat), but responsibility called. We walked up to the Riviera and got a cab to the Stratosphere, where we found Dan and Kate playing video poker.

They were already totally worn out (understandably, considering the previous day), so we decided to pass on the rides on top of the Stratosphere. We played video poker with them for a while, and then went to find food when they headed back to their hotel. We decided on the tacky 50s-style diner nearby, because I’d eaten there before and knew they had vegetarian food. I had a salad, and I swear it was the best salad of my life. Or I may just have been hungry.

Matt won a bunch more money playing penny slots while waiting for me in the bathroom. Since our streak of luck was obviously continuing, we decided to head back down to the Sahara. Not only would we probably find cheap tables there, but we’d likely win in other ways: we’d seen a sign advertising $1 shots with a souvenir glass. SOLD.

Oh, and we stopped at the sex toy store along the way. It was sadly disappointing!

We had some delicious dollar shots, then went to find a blackjack table. That’s when my lucky streak ended, but that’s not surprising. I know how to play blackjack correctly, but I just haven’t been getting cards lately. That’s fine; it’ll turn around at some point!

After losing at blackjack, we went to play pai gow. That went better for us, or we were at least losing a lot more slowly. We wanted to stay and play longer, but we were too aware of the 10am checkout at our hotel. We decided to call it a night, and headed that way.

We got up bright and early Monday morning, only because we had to check out by 10. Nobody should have to see Las Vegas that early in the day.

We took our usual trek through Planet Hollywood and over to Paris, stopping for our traditional delicious European brunch at the cafe there. Matt had a bacon roll, and I had a cranberry roll with a cheese and fruit plate. We refilled our DIY iced coffees, and headed over to the sports book at Bally’s. There, we placed prop bets on Monday Night Football, and hopped on the monorail back to the Flamingo.

We stopped in at Sin City Brewing to pick up another shotglass (it’s one of our favorites), and then went off in search of a pai gow table. After passing time with video poker for a while, we found a couple of seats. Matt wasn’t having great luck, so he went to play blackjack instead.

We’d made plans to meet up with Dan and Kate before airport-time, so we headed back down toward MGM around noon. We stopped to get some much-needed pizza for lunch, then crossed over to Hooters to find them. We all wanted to take advantage of the much-advertised free $100 in slot play just for joining the players’ club.

The promotional slot machines were a joke, of course, but it was entertainment. We also got $5 free on the regular slots, so we took that over to the penny machines. Within a few minutes, I was up $20. I cashed out, and we went to play some blackjack instead.

Our luck had really turned at that point… the dealer had an awesome run and wiped almost all of us at the table out in fairly short order. Such is the way of Vegas.

Dan and Kate left to get their bags and go to the airport extremely early, so Matt and I decided to go over to a bar we’d heard about at the Bellagio. After much walking and heat and having to backtrack because the street was closed, we gave up on the plan and went to New York New York instead. One of the items on my to-do list was to have a yard, and we hadn’t done that yet. Plus we visit Gonzalez Y Gonzalez every time we’re there!

We had yards, and got talking to the bartender, who was clearly a terrible influence. That’s why that plastic dinosaur cup held a giant Patron shot. And I still have it, because why would you not keep that glass?

After sitting there for a while watching Nascar on ESPN, it suddenly seemed like a great idea to go make another bet. Matt took Mark Martin to win the Nascar season (the cup? I think?) because the TV told us to. Hey, it could still pan out! Then we crossed the street to Fatburger, where he went in to order while I stood outside with the drinks. I have a bunch of photos of the people sitting in front of Walgreens, and I really have no idea why.

We found a table at the Hawaiian Marketplace. A cover band was playing the greatest hits of the 70s through today; we ate and giggled at the incredible awesomeness of Vegas while watching tourists dance. They played ‘All Summer Long’ by Kid Rock (it’s obligatory), and then we swing-danced to Stevie Ray Vaughan. Pretty much the perfect way to end that particular trip to Vegas.

We walked over to Polo Towers, got our bags and a cab, and were airport-bound. There, we found Dan and Kate napping at the gate, and our plane all ready to go.

Til next time, Las Vegas! I’m sure we’ll be back soon.

We got started early at the lovely Hubert H Humprey Terminal at Minneapolis-St Paul International Airport. We continued the party on the aeroplane. The party also included canasta and the sammichsammich. We landed in Las Vegas, and were greeted at the airport by a limo driver holding a sign reading TEAM AWESOME.

We hopped in our limo and broke out the champagne. We got to Excalibur, checked into our widely-scattered rooms (which they told us would be together), and regrouped half an hour later, ready for action.

We had dinner. We drank tequila-based beverages. We video-gambled at New York New York. We wandered up the strip and eventually found ourselves in the Barbary Coast, the lesser-known pirate casino. While most of our crew headed for more games, Matt and I circled the casino and stopped cold at the entrance to the bar. There, onstage, was a cover band with a keytar. We were ecstatic. After a series of hair-metal ballads, and as if it was not already the best day ever, they launched into Faithfully. We died of joy.

…And then were resurrected to go across the street to the Flamingo. Katie and Wendy ran over to play the Wheel of Fortune, so I grabbed a seat, put in $10, hit ‘max bet’, cashed out, and walked away with $81. We watched poker for a while, and headed back to the hotel sometime around 3am.

Now, not to ruin the suspense or anything, but I’m going to go ahead and tell you that Saturday was the all-time official best day ever. Really.

our pretty-pretty-princess castle.

We got up and met up with everybody at Mandalay Bay for the brunching. The AVN Awards were going on that day, so we saw several porn stars and producers in the restaurant. We hopped cabs to downtown, and wandered into Binion’s to play blackjack. We found an empty table so all six of us could play. And then, we met Robert. Our lives will never be the same.

Robert alternated between berating us and telling jokes (some of which he would forget partway through) for the next three hours, with regular 20-minute breaks during which we missed him a LOT. Our favorite moment was when he started talking about buying nickel and dime bags, then tried to explain what they were to his pit boss, who had no idea. He said that it was heroin, as opposed to cocaine, which one buys in rocks. Also, he remembered the days when one could walk down Fremont Street counting a handful of cash; nowadays, you walk down a few blocks holding a twenty, and you’re bound to get shot.

Robert took all our money over the course of that three hours, but I don’t think any of us minded it too much. We departed Binion’s and headed across the street to the Golden Nugget, where we poked around on video machines, for which we all know the main purpose is losing money at a slow, measured rate while getting as many free drinks as possible. Then, knowing we had a long awesome night ahead of us, we headed back to the hotel for an hour-and-a-half nap, during which I had a highly exciting dream involving the football game that was on TV. We awoke and got dressed: Matt in a suit, and me in a black cocktail dress, wrap, and high heels (SERIOUSLY). At 7:30, the rest of the group joined us in the pimp room for champagne, and then we headed downstairs to catch our limo.

The driver was Clint, and he had a bluetooth headset grafted to his head. We told him we had reservations at the Venetian at nine, and would like to ride around the strip until then. He drove us down to the Las Vegas sign, parked in a turn lane, took our picture, and then drove us back up and down the strip until ten to 9. We drank champagne and talked a lot about awesome.

We dined at the Pinot Brasserie, and the food was incredible. Our goal was to hit $500 on the bill, but we came up a little short. We met Wendy’s boyfriend, a dude in way-too-tight pants barrelling into the kitchen to pee, who was escorted out shortly thereafter by giggling staff. Katie walked around the bathroom with her pants down, because they were out of toilet paper. We talked too loudly and swore too much, and in short, we were motherfuckin’ classy. As always.

We gambled for a bit at the Venetian, then decided to head back down towards Excalibur to find a bar we could stumble home from sometime the next morning. We stood for what seemed like two weeks in the cab line (more like 20 minutes, but I was wearing 3″ heels). We readjourned at MGM Grand, and wandered around looking for a bar. Eventually, the shoes lost the battle, and Jumi and I walked around the casino barefoot (and saw several other girls doing the same). We finally found the bar I’d remembered as perfect for what we were seeking, and it was. Therefore, we found us some seats at Rouge, and we closed the place down.

All I remember from the walk back across to Excalibur is Jumi loudly insisting that I go right up to the room and take photos of my feet, because we had been walking around inside and outside casinos barefoot (fun fact: casino carpeting has a LOT of wet spots!). She told the same thing to another pair of girls who were walking around shoeless, too. Hahaha. I’m pretty sure that 3am-5am Las Vegas is one of my favorite things ever.

On Sunday, we walked up to Aladdin for brunch-buffet, an idea which seemed really great at the time, and even better once we saw the insane variety of food they had there. While the food was indeed excellent, it was all most of us could do to not lie down and nap afterward.

some big-pimpin dude told wendy he liked her prada sunglasses. they’re from superamerica.

Jumi and Matt and I went over to Caesar’s to mostly windowshop in the crazy overpriced stores there, and I actually made it out of Diesel without buying anything. Not too surprisingly, our only purchases came from the Playboy store. We walked up to the Wynn and dedicated ourselves to blowing a few more bucks in the machines while exploiting the beverage service. We discovered there that Steve Wynn mixes much stronger drinks than anyone else we’d yet encountered. We liked Steve a lot.

We hopped a cab back to our hotel, then another limo to the airport, and hung out eating pretzels and watching planes take off from the giant window in the D concourse until Jumi texted, ‘you know the flight’s leaving early, right?’ We hurried to the plane, and laughed about sammiches for at least half of the flight home. Also, I lost at canasta, dammit.

We arrived in the middle of a snowstorm, which made the landing somewhat nervewracking, and the drive home at least four times as long as it should’ve been. I went to bed way too late, cursing the universe for the fact that I was the only one who had to work on Monday. Holy crap, that hurt.

I got up at 6:30 and ran to Starbucks before heading out. My car was covered in what could only be described as humidity dust. It was in the mid-60s, but still insanely humid. I got on I-15, going the opposite direction from the rest of the traffic. They were going to work, I was going to Vegas. Suckers.

About halfway to San Bernardino, all the traffic on the interstate had to stop for inspection, even though it was a good 40 miles north of the border. The guard waved me through. I realized that this was a new potential career. Next time I go to Tijuana, I’m loading my trunk with illegal immigrants. So, like, never.

As I drove, I realized I was tired and sore. Not just sore, but sore everywhere. I had gotten used to that state, but it seemed a little more extreme that day.

Las Vegas hadn’t been on my original non-itinerary, because I figured I could get there anytime. However, having just read Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, I kind of wanted to go. Specifically, I wanted to take that drive from Los Angeles, going through Barstow and Baker. It’s a thing. When I realized that I could take that same route heading up from San Diego, it was decided. So I got past Riverside on the way to Barstow, and it was starting to turn into desert. It was about 95 degrees and a steep incline, so I had to turn off the air conditioning to avoid overheating. My car paranoia was already in full swing, based on my track record and the intense heat. I figured that driving through the Mojave Desert would be the biggest test of Chico’s stamina to date. I wasn’t sure I was up to it, either.

I couldn’t take my eyes off the temperature display, which kept climbing upwards. All of a sudden, I was in road construction, on a narrow 2-lane highway with a concrete barrier on my left and a wall of semi trucks on my right. I panicked. I was having trouble seeing. I had to keep reminding myself to just breathe, because I was worried about passing out behind the wheel. Even though I was doing 70, it felt like this slow-motion creep uphill. I had never been so scared; I was convinced that I was going to die alone in the desert.

I think part of the problem was that I had gone from almost 0 to 4000 feet elevation in about 10 minutes. I knew I had had trouble with that before. Also, because of my weird eating habits on the road, I was on a blood sugar rollercoaster. I was honestly freaking out about my safety, so I grabbed my phone and called Heather, and asked her to talk me down. And she did.

When I got to Barstow, I pulled off at a truck stop, like she told me to do. I got out of the car and the backs of my pants were soaked through, dark green stains down the backs of my thighs. I was beyond caring. I went and sat in the bathroom for ten minutes or so, trying to calm down (which was an indication of my mental state, that I would prefer sitting in a truck stop bathroom). I bought a pop and commented to the girl at the counter that my hands were shaking because I was terrified of driving through the desert. She laughed and said that a woman had told her the exact same thing the day before. She asked if I had a cellphone, and told me not to worry, because I would be safe.

I felt a little better, having survived the first leg, and knowing I only had 200 miles to go to Vegas. I ate a banana and felt less shaky, so I got back on the road. Since I was past the big uphills, I turned the air back on. The engine temperature needle hadn’t budged the whole time, so I relaxed a little. I was going to make it to Vegas before 1pm. Apart from the freaking-out part, I liked the desert. I saw Joshua Trees and salt flats where they race cars. I couldn’t believe people lived in Baker, out in the middle of nowhere. I saw Primm, Nevada, one of those cities trying to make itself a mini-Vegas. I saw a huge waterpark complex that had closed, with some of the slides starting to collapse. I came over a rise and saw Vegas, and regretted just a tiny bit that I wasn’t approaching it at night, and seeing the neon. Instead, I saw smog. But, still. It was Vegas!

I called the bellhop at my hotel to find out which exit to take. I went to the north end of the strip, turned at Circus Circus, and I had arrived at my perfect oldschool casino: the Stardust. Home of the Wayne Newton Theater! I walked through the lobby, intending to go ask when check-in time was, but a sign told me I could do so at noon. Awesome. I checked in and ran to the car for my bags. Another cool thing about Vegas: free parking. My room was great, especially since it was so cheap. I grabbed the things-to-do magazine to look up shows, because I really wanted to see something while I was there. I briefly considered Wayne Newton, but then decided against paying so much money for a joke. I finally picked Jubilee!, and called to reserve my ticket. The guy on the phone said, “You know it’s topless, right?” It better be, dude. I hung up and flipped to the dining section of the magazine to examine my options. MGM Grand, featuring no less than 82,000 restaurants, seemed like a safe bet. Plus, it was at the other end of the strip, so I’d be able to see everything in between.

I fixed my hair, changed into something a little less ‘I’m-in-the-car-all-day-so-I-could-give-a-fuck-what-I-look-like’, and headed out. I got probably the best iced coffee ever at the little coffee counter in the lobby, go figure. When I walked out the door, I ran smack into a 115-degree wall.

I started walking. It was fine for two blocks, if a little surprising. After three blocks, my contacts had melted to my eyes. After four, my eyeballs had melted to my brain. All the ice in my coffee had long since melted. The passing buses gave off waves of heat that were physically painful to walk through. The wind was dusty. Thankfully, it was hazy, so the sun didn’t come out very often. I walked as fast as I could, but when I had to stop at intersections, I could feel the heat of the pavement through the soles of my shoes. I had never, ever felt heat like that before. It was miserable.

Also, things in Las Vegas were a lot farther apart than I had expected. I know now that the strip is 3 miles long, and I wish I had known that when I was walking it. However, it was fun to see all the casinos, and I stopped to take lots of pictures. Lots of them had water misters and giant fans set up near their entrances, so those offered a little escape from the heat. Walking past the doors was like torture, though, feeling the air conditioning blasting out into the street.

It took me almost an hour to get to MGM Grand. I had a headache and was feeling fuzzy. I walked in and immediately felt 100% better with the air conditioning, until I realized I was now completely damp and freezing cold. I started following signs pointing to restaurants. Rainforest Cafe? No. Maybe Spago – but it wasn’t open yet. I went past ten places, checking menus. There wasn’t even an attempt to have vegetarian food – even the salads were meaty. I was willing to settle for anything, since it was 2pm and I was hungry, but I could honestly find nothing. I walked the whole length of the casino, which appeared to be about the size of the Mall of America. Then I wandered back to the one restaurant I had intentionally ignored – Emeril’s. I had avoided it for two reasons. First, it was a seafood restaurant. Second, Heather’s deep, burning hatred for Emeril had rubbed off on me. I recalled the time we were driving down St. Charles Avenue in New Orleans, past his restaurant, and Heather spotted him standing in the front window. She let out a string of expletives that surprised even me. So, yeah. We hate Emeril.

They sat me at the back of the restaurant at a table immediately next to another couple, even though the place was almost empty. It was one of those restaurants that tries to act really upscale so you feel funny wearing Old Navy clothes, but then you realize you’re in a casino, it’s tacky by nature, and everyone else there is dressed like crap, too. They pull out the chair and put your napkin in your lap for you (which creeps me the hell out, actually) just so they can justify charging $35 for an entree.

I decided on the portobello-blue cheese burger, but then got suspicious, knowing the tendency towards meat in Vegas. When the server came to take my order, I asked him: it’s just a grilled mushroom, right? No actual burger? He seemed offended, and assured me that it was 100% prime-grade beef. He seemed to be drooling, reveling in its meatiness. I shuddered, and ordered a salad instead. I ate almost the whole basket of bread while I waited. They served me Diet Coke in a champagne flute. The salad was OK, not great. Emeril can go to hell.

The guy at the next table started talking about the food, because they were vegetarian, too. We thought it was funny that they put the vegetarians in the back corner together, probably to make it easier to ridicule us from afar. We exchanged stories – they were from Bermuda, in Las Vegas for their anniversary. They were appalled by the heat, too. We talked about food, travel, and having kids. He and I laughed really hard about Starbucks, and our mutual love of it: it’s not good coffee, but it’s consistent. Wherever you go, it’s exactly the same. He confessed his love for their raisin scone, which he pronounced ‘scoon’. I was charmed.

Just as I was finishing my meal, they started talking about their business: they were Herbalife salespeople. I took this as my cue; I wished them a very happy anniversary, and escaped before they could hit me up.

I stopped at one of the fifty or so Starbucks in the casino, bought coffee, and sat at a table to do the writing I would usually be doing during dinner. It was 4pm, and my show was at 7:30, so I decided that I would wander back towards Bally’s, touring all the casinos in between. Also, I’d try to scope out a place for a very late dinner, because I knew if I ended up looking afterwards, I was just going to be angry.

From MGM Grand, I crossed to New York, New York. It was pretty cool inside, but I got lost trying to get back out the other side. I was hoping to be able to work my way up the strip mostly staying indoors, and out of the hellish heat. No luck; I ended up walking a few blocks outside anyway. I stopped into CVS and bought a giant bottle of painkillers for the pounding headache I had since I had started walking earlier that day (as Heather pointed out, I was dehydrated, and the coffee was just making it worse. Of course, I didn’t realize that at the time). I crossed to the Aladdin and went into the shops entrance. After walking around for a while, I decided that this was my favorite casino. The shops were laid out in a big circle with the casino in the center. I thought that was kind of ingenious, as it allows you to buy souvenirs and window-shop while making your way from one entrance to another, without having to deal with the casino insanity. Also, it’s divided into four sections, each decorated in a different middle-eastern theme. I liked the giant couches for lounging and the simulated thunderstorm, which was mildly entertaining. From there, I went to Paris. It was one of the better casinos, too – the legs of the Eiffel Tower inside the casino were cool. I went into a couple shoppes and used les toilettes.

I was wandering and abruptly found myself in Bally’s, quicker than I had expected. I stopped to pick up my tickets for the show, then decided I needed more coffee, and still had an hour and a half to kill. I crossed to the Bellagio. It was swank, but in that ridiculous Vegas way – so overdone that it’s obscene, and incongruous because all the tourists are still Bob and Ann from Omaha, and Bob is wearing a Hawaiian shirt. The lobby was amazing, and they were piping in flower scent. I was confused about the giant liberty bell, though. Why is it there? Weird. The Bellagio offered me no coffee, nor did Caesar’s Palace, or the Flamingo, or the Barbary Coast (ha). I decided to go back to Paris, because I had passed a coffee shop there where I could sit down for a while. I wound my way through the maze of escalators and moving sidewalks back to Bally’s. I had noticed a trend on this type of public transport, by the way: I radiate impatience. I must, because every time I would be standing behind someone on an escalator or moving sidewalk, they’d turn, look chastened, and move out of the way with a quickness. Sometimes, I was just standing there, being calm and trying not to curse them for being slow, and they could still tell. It’s funny.

I found the patisserie and got an iced latte. I sat and wrote for 10 minutes, then used les toilettes again, and headed over to Bally’s for my showgirls show. I went into the theatre and watched all the funny people finding their seats. As for Jubilee, there’s a lot to be said. If your fetish involves feather plumes, sequins, rhinestones, and impossibly-large hats, this is the show for you. (I was going to add ‘boobs’ to that list, but everybody likes boobs.)

So, the show opens with the big typical showgirl-style revue. There are breasts, and lots of them. Most of them are fake, and too many ribs are poking out beneath them. The men in the show are super-queeny, and it’s hard to buy them singing about how all they want is hundreds and hundreds of girls. The music is cringe-worthy, as is the choreography. All the musical numbers are those montage-style bits, really overdone and cliché. I’d think the show was making fun of itself, but I doubt that was the case.

Act 2 is the Long Twins. They juggle and contort themselves. There’s a too-long section where they wriggle in and out of garbage cans.

Act 3 is Samson and Delilah. In my opinion, this gem should’ve been saved for the finale, it’s that good. All the guys are dressed in leather-and-studs quasi-bondage gear, including those exaggerated banana thongs. When they dance, all I can think of is Party Boy from Jackass. There’s lots of simulated sex that’s supposed to look like dancing. Samson is a huge hunk of a man who stands at the side of the stage and flexes his pecs absently while watching the writhing. After Delilah seduces him and chops off his long, lustrous hair, the scene evolves into this bizarre S&M dungeon-type thing. It ends with Samson re-enacting King Kong – he escapes, knocking shit down and starting things on fire. Then he scales the gigantic bull sculpture, as smoke pours from its angry red nostrils. It starts breaking into pieces and collapsing very, very slowly, with Samson riding it all the way down.

At this point, I couldn’t hide the fact that I was in hysterics. Everyone else there seemed to think it was pretty damn good. When I looked at the program, I noted that the last part was labeled Scene VII – Cataclysm. You got that right.

Next up, act 4 is called ‘Fuzion’. It’s a very athletic, very aryan couple getting into various poses to the beat of German industrial techno. Their strength and balance is impressive. The fact that they’re doing a slo-mo ‘robot’ isn’t.

Act 5 is the Titanic, and it’s the pinnacle of cheesy. I was giggling before it even started. The costumes are terrible. The men wear candy-colored suits with giant white piping. The women have huge, overgrown muffs. (Ha! No, it’s only topless. Really.) They lipsynch really poorly. I was wondering if they were going to show tits again before or after the ship sank. The Titanic’s crewmen are putting on horrifying British accents, saying things like, “I say, old chap,” and “Jolly good.” There’s a song about French lingerie, accompanied by a fashion show (no, I have no idea, either). Then there’s a boiler room gangbang, and after that the ship sinks. And the really funny thing is, it sinks in exactly the same way as the temple fell down vis-a-vis Samson: breaking into pieces, falling slowly into a pit. You know, cataclysm. In the program, the note reads, ‘Nearer my God to Thee.’ Um. What?

Act 6 is Stoyan and Dmitri hanging onto sheets and flying around overhead. It’s not great, since they obviously once had hopes of making the Olympic team on the rings. They failed.

Act 7: The Finale. What can I say? It’s exactly what you would expect. Huge, feathered hats that make up 95% of the total outfit. Lots of boobs. A topless wedding ceremony. Some of the girls appear to have become trapped in chandeliers. There’s even an especially-painful standards revue sandwich: montages of pieces by Cole Porter, then Jerome Kern, then George Gershwin. The montages don’t work very well, because they do two or three lines of every song before moving to the next: it’s Broadway for the short-attention-span crowd. Or more accurately, to satisfy the audience’s belief that they came to see real entertainment, and not just to see a bunch of nipples. So, yeah. The show was over, and we clapped. I applauded the few apparently non-surgically-altered breasts onstage. You can tell by the jiggle, and their unashamed less-than-perfection.

I left Bally’s and headed back toward the Stardust. I cut through the Barbary Coast and Venetian. There were way, way more people in my way at that time of night. I couldn’t believe the number of people out, and the huge variety. It would’ve been excellent people-watching, but I wasn’t in the mood. Also, I quickly became irritated at the amount of drunk ogling. Everyone was drunk. Creepy guys making too much eye contact. I wanted to push my way through just to get away. It seemed to have cooled down a bit outside, maybe even under 100. All the lights were on on the strip, but I wasn’t noticing most of it. I just wanted food and sleep. I wandered through Treasure Island and found nothing, so I went back to the Stardust. It was nearly deserted, totally unlike the casinos farther down the strip. It was actually a relief until I encountered the crowd exiting the Wayne Newton show; they were probably the slowest people I’d encountered yet.

At the Stardust, I found a restaurant with food I could eat. So, of course, they had just closed for cleaning as I got there at 11pm. So I went to Tony Roma’s (Your Place For Ribs). Yeah, I know. It was sheer desperation, and I was determined to find something. That ended up being a side caesar salad and an order of mozzarella sticks. I was sure they would make me sick, but I didn’t care. I was in Vegas, the city where people do really stupid things. After dinner, I dragged my tired ass up to my room, wrote for a very short while, and went to bed, determined to sleep in the next day.

– – – – –

random notes from my travel journal:

california drivers hate letting people switch lanes. they speed up. assholes.

on mira mesa boulevard, a booth that has everything you could ever want: coffee, smoothies, cigarettes, and lotto tickets.

on the interstate, i saw a dumptruck with the message: happiness is a good dump.

road sign along I-15:
las vegas 76
salt lake city 526

holy crap! i ran out my glacier gateway motel pen! i want to die! moving on to the la hilton pen. ha.

at this point, i’m surprised i’m able to stop walking. it’s all i do lately.

people here walk so fucking slow!! aaargh!

why do i notice the heat on my eyes the most? is it the contacts? it’s bizarre.

the waitress just came up and said, ‘gosh, you write fast!’ ha.

being by yourself in vegas during the day isn’t weird at all. at night, it sucks. it’s the crowds and the drunkenness. you feel like meat. i don’t regret not being out wandering around the strip right now. i’d probably end up throwing punches.

– – – – –

I tried to sleep in, really. I woke at 6 and forced myself to go back to sleep, but I was up again by 7am. I got coffee and went to my car, which, surprisingly, had not melted into a pool of metal and rubber after sitting in the heat all day. I got on the freeway and headed towards the Hoover Dam. Apparently, Boulder City has some kind of scam going with the state highway department, in which all the tourist traffic is routed right through the center of town.

I got to the dam at 8:45, and it was already 95 degrees. I had to wait in line outside the visitors’ center, which didn’t open until 9, thinking, this is not what i want to be doing. Finally, they let us in, passed us through a metal detector, and sold us tickets. I wanted to go right to the observation deck, but they made me go down and sit through the presentation first. I was cranky. All I wanted was to take some dam pictures and be on my way. I didn’t want to take the dam tour. I sat there, squirming, surrounded by tourist families, thinking, this is not what i want to be doing, either. I did learn a couple fun facts from the presentation, however: first of all, there’s no way a body could be buried in the dam, because of how they poured the concrete (although I choose to adhere to the theory that the mob can do anything it wants, and if it wants a body in the dam, it gets a body in the dam); second, Las Vegas gets none of its power from the Hoover Dam. So there. Some learnin’.

After they herded us cattle out of the presentation corral, I busted out of line and ran up the stairs to the observation deck. Some security guards peered at me suspiciously, but didn’t seem to have the ambition to taser me, so I got to take my photos in peace. After that, I made my way to the gift shop, the most important part of any stupid tourist attraction. I got my dam souvenirs* and was back on my way.

*I’m sorry, dam jokes make my mom laugh every single time I tell them, so I feel obligated.

Also, you may wonder at my bitterness over the Hoover Dam. I don’t know, I guess I’m not that much for public works. I didn’t like having to spend so much time and money to see something that’s basically a punchline.

I got in my car and drove across the dam into Arizona, because I wasn’t positive that I’d be driving through there on the way back, and I’d be mightily pissed if I missed a western state on my road trip. I was there long enough to make a u-turn and go back. I liked that there were clocks on either side of the dam telling us what time it was in the respective states, since Arizona has some sort of conscientious objection to daylight savings. Troublemakers.

I pointed Chico back towards Vegas and marveled at the double layer of haze over the city. There was the normal, white haziness from the heat, and below that, a thick layer of brown smog. Nice. I drove around to the north end of town and exited at Las Vegas Boulevard, so I could drive through downtown. It was all tattoo parlors, bail bonds, and wedding chapels (‘Your wedding broadcast live over the internet FREE!’). The crappy little motels had the best signs I’d ever seen, way better than anything the strip had to offer. I parked at the Stratosphere, and went in and bought a ticket for the tower. I wanted to see Las Vegas from above.

The view was impressive – not as hazy as the pictures seem – but it was painfully hot. I could only stand it for ten minutes, then went inside and down a level to the indoor observation deck. I sat and wrote for a while, then went back downstairs to the casino. The girl running the elevator told me how much it sucked to be a teenager in Las Vegas, because of the strictly-enforced 9pm curfew. She only had 2 months to go to 18, though. Then she could get to topless dancing or waitressing or prostituting or whatever it is that 18-year-old girls do for work in Vegas. I wouldn’t know, but I wished her the best anyway.

I walked from one end of the casino to the other twice. I stopped at the deli and asked about the veggie sandwich. It was cheese with whatever vegetables I wanted, as long as my selection was limited to lettuce, tomato, or onion. I couldn’t get a salad without meat because they were all pre-made. As I pondered the anemic-looking fruit salad, the woman behind the counter pointed out the veggie sandwich again and said, “Well, that’s how we do it when they want it vegetarian!” She seemed angry. I left and headed back to Roxy’s Diner, the 50s-style restaurant, because they at least had grilled cheese. I was so frustrated I wanted to cry (the combination of impatience and low blood sugar is such a bad state for me). I explained my issue to the server, and she said, “Awww, honey. Let me hook you up!” She went back to the kitchen and had them construct a very impressive grilled vegetable sandwich for me. And I loved her for it.

After lunch, I went back to my car and drove down the Strip. I saw a couple drops of water on my windshield and thought it was from a sprayer at a casino. Then I realized it was raining. 110 degrees in the middle of the desert, and it was raining. Also, it was the first time I’d really encountered any adverse weather on my entire trip. I’m lucky that way.

I found my destination about a mile from the strip on Tropicana, near the airport. As I got out of my car, I realized that the rain was doing nothing to affect the heat, it was just making it humid. The drops were drying as quickly as they hit the ground; I was surprised they weren’t hissing. The backs of my pants legs were soaked again, and I got instant chills the second I walked into the Liberace Museum.

The enthusiastic old lady in the black-sequined vest gave me a long speech about my tour options. I decided to forego the audio tour, even though it was a mere $3 extra to hear Liberace speak to me. You see, I’m the high-impact tourist. I try to see as much as possible in as little time. Tours slow me down, informational signs are a distraction. I could be halfway to Salt Lake City and Liberace would still be talking to me. So no audio tour.

The Liberace Museum was kind of great. No, really great. The first building housed his pianos and cars. The cars were incredible. Now, I was lucky enough to have experienced the platinum tour of Graceland, and I can say with absolute authority that The King’s cars had nothing on Liberace’s. They were all either covered à la mirror ball, or decked out in rhinestones. One was red, white, and blue. They were fabulous, and they must have had some kind of souped-up suspension to handle the weight of all that glitz.

[This space reserved for the photos I’d have taken if they’d have let me. You’ll just have to visit, I guess.]

The geriatric crew and I meandered through the museum, then exited and followed the Liberace Walk of Fame through the Liberace Strip Mall (gay bar, produce market, Asian grocery, and spaces for rent), to the other end of the Liberace Complex and the rest of the museum. I wasn’t sure why the place was divided in half, but maybe they just didn’t realize how much Liberace they had to show off. I went into the second museum without even having to show my Liberace Hand Stamp, which cleverly concealed my Mt. Rainier bruise. This part of the museum was a roomful of his famous outfits. Yet again, Liberace put Elvis to shame. They were so great. My favorite was the patriotic hotpants ensemble. Also, I saw the world’s largest, purest rhinestone, donated by Swarovski (it’s the store that glows blue at the Mall of America, FYI) especially for the Liberace Museum. It did them proud.

The Liberace Gift Shop didn’t disappoint, either. I bought myself an awesome book about 50s Vegas, and talked to the lady at the counter for almost 20 minutes about the museum and its similarities to Graceland. She hadn’t been, but she wished that the Elvis folks would be as philanthropic as the Liberace Trust, which donates some millions of dollars a year to charity. (Sorry, Heather, I know you love Fat Elvis, but Liberace had a fat stage, too. Give him a chance.)

I called Heather on my way back towards the strip and complained about my food situation. She looked up the address of a vegetarian restaurant that turned out to be a grocery, but that was fine. I was happy. I bought some snacks for the car and protein bars, and chatted with the guy behind the register about the crappy casino dining options. He agreed that it was bad, and asked where I was from. He said that the woman who owns the French Meadow Bakery in Minneapolis (one of my current favorite restaurants) stops in every time she’s in Vegas. Awesome.

I got back to my room at 2:30 and passed out on the bed. I was awakened at 3:30 by a phone call about a job. I looked at my AAA guides for Utah and Colorado, and couldn’t get excited about anything. I wrote in my journal: i think i’m done.

The storm was in full swing at that point, so I sat in the window in tshirt and underwear and watched, waiting for it to let up enough for me to go out again. The wind had picked up, and it was a full-fledged dust storm for about fifteen minutes. I watched dirt-and-trash tornadoes spiraling around the parking lot. It started raining hard. I saw a big metal garbage can (minus the contortionist, thankfully) blow over and slam against a beater car. My car was so far unscathed, but I was keeping an eye on it. I was happy that the humidity dust was getting washed off.

After it stopped raining, I got dressed and headed to Circus Circus. I went up and watched some of the performance. It was kind of a cool setup, and I liked that they put on the show for free, considering some of the crap that people paid to see in that town. I walked around the shops and checked the restaurants, as usual. The one place that looked promising was closed; I was mistaken in my assumption that everything in Vegas was open 24 hours a day. I walked back to the Stardust, and found a long line outside the one cafe I had chosen the night before. Sigh. I waited anyway, and it only took about 10 minutes. They got me in fast because I was willing to sit in the smoking section. I mean, the entire city is like one big smoking section. So why not?

The people behind me in line were from West Virginia. I knew this not because we were chatting, but because they were those kind of people. Questions/statements I overheard, many of them repeated multiple times:

– It’s 7 here, right? Or is that the time in West Virginia?
– Is this the place with the steak and lobster? I don’t want the steak and lobster.
– Is this place open?
– Is this the buffet?
– I don’t want steak and lobster. I would eat it, though.
– That girl is all lit up! Look at that! (Referring to the girl in the lobby selling flashing stuff with LED lights, à la vintage cigarette girl)
– That girl couldn’t go to school like that, though! They’d send her home for distracting other kids. (The ‘girl’ looks to be about 40. Yes, the flashing lights are distracting. Not to mention the mini-tux and fishnets.)
– If I have to eat that steak, it better be done.

I hated them.

The menu was huge. Sandwiches, entrees, a page of Chinese food, appetizers, all-day breakfast. About four viable options for me, none of them great. I decided on nachos and fruit. I rule.

– – – – –

random notes from my travel journal:

casinos at 7am are only slightly less depressing than casinos that are empty at 11pm.

i have suspicions about the bureau of land management. is their only job to sneak onto indian reservations in the middle of the night and steal the land back bit by bit?

i know i’ve said it before, but being vegetarian in las vegas is a fucking nightmare. i was better off in montana.

i got sammich juice all over my face and hands. i am classy to the end.

this is the kind of place where the servers walk around singing 50s tunes. don’t make eye contact. also, it seems to be the seat of some casino rockabilly scene. jay would hate it here.

seeing this weather here is kind of great. i know it’s a pretty rare thing.

even ‘home’ is a disorienting concept at this point. it’ll be weird to not be alone all the time. i wonder if that will feel funny. more disorientation. cool.

i’m starting to suspect that meat is some kind of religion out here.

on the way home, i’ll stop and see some sights if i feel like it, but right now, i don’t feel like it. the grand canyon doesn’t seem like such a big deal at the moment. i’ve had an overdose of natural beauty. and too many crazy cities and crazier people. so awesome, but enough to last me for a while. i kind of want to get back to my routine. it’s funny when you start craving doing dishes and laundry, right?

i feel like i’m calling home too often just for human contact. like i told heather today, i have to remind myself that there are people somewhere who care about me. also, heather is the siegfried to my roy. ha.

i think these nachos have velveeta on them. for christ’s sake.

i hurt all over. the hips aren’t great. my feet are shot, i think. they have blisters and sore spots all over them. i’m surprised it took this long, actually. i’m going to blame the insane heat for that.

i hate when i get cheese on my notebook. how am i going to live without this thing? it’s comforting to me. plus it’s my dining companion. i’ll have the fruit salad, my journal will have the nachos. extra velveeta, please.

you can play keno at the tables here. why, god, why don’t i know how to play keno?

i have to stop hunching my shoulders. i need a massage. i really just want to be in bed with someone. anyone. ha.

– – – – –

I left Vegas at 7am, iced coffee in hand. As I drove out, I noticed that the trip odometer was at exactly 5000 miles. It was in the 80s and the change was a huge relief. By the time I reached Mesquite, I had to pee. I drove by a billboard with the magic symbol on it: Starbucks. So, yes, I stopped at the Casablanca Casino to use the bathroom and get coffee. You do what you have to do.

The landscape the whole way was incredible. It was all desert scrub and mountains with red and white rock, studies in plate tectonics (see, I learned something in school). The Virgin River Gorge was beautiful, so I didn’t even mind more steep, winding grade and the 55mph speed limit. I crossed into Arizona and cursed losing an hour. I hit I-70 and was excited by the sign reading ‘Richfield’; I wanted that to mean Richfield, Minnesota, where I live. I stopped a few times to go to the bathroom. Then I stopped in Richfield to try and find coffee, but couldn’t. I was zoning out again, eating sunflower seeds to stay awake, and taking off my sunglasses so the glare would keep me alert. When I saw a sign telling me there was going to be a big stretch of nothing for 110 miles, I took that as my cue to stop.

The town I pulled off at had a couple trucker bars and a Denny’s. Beyond caring, I chose Denny’s. I got out of the car, shaking, with the cold sweats. I staggered in, got a table, and almost cried with relief when I saw that they had a gardenburger. I ordered coffee and sat and wrote. I sat there for a long time after I finished eating, too, because I was afraid I’d stand up again and realize that I was still in bad shape, and wouldn’t be able to drive. But, no, when I got up, I was fine, and I had confirmed that my problem was definitely low blood sugar. I vowed to be more careful about that in the future.

I got back on the road and make the 110-mile drive through the middle of nowhere easily. Utah is beautiful, and the landscape is really diverse. Anywhere else, it would all be national park, but there’s just so much of it, they probably couldn’t do that to the entire state. Although maybe the Mormons could get in on some of that action and convert all the visitors. It’s a win-win, really.

I crossed the Colorado border and the scenery continued. It was somewhere close to a million degrees outside, and I was dying. My pants were soaking wet again, so I devised a method in which to dry them: I cranked up the air and aimed all the blowers down towards my seat. I braced my knees against the dashboard and pushed back against the seat, to lift my ass up and allow for air circulation underneath it. Thanks to my thighs of steel, I could hold that position for miles, and it worked.

I stopped in Grand Junction to get coffee. Heather told me that both Safeway and Albertson’s had Starbucks, so I was on the lookout. I got gas, and asked the woman at the next pump where I could find one of those stores. She was really nice, gave me directions, and said her mom was born in Minnesota. I found Albertson’s, walked in, and asked the odd-looking bagboy where the restrooms were. I bought pop and fruit. At the checkout, the bagboy (who was one of a matched set, prompting the mental debate: twins or clones? Clones.) asked if I had found the bathroom OK. Ha! I went over to the Starbucks counter, and the kid there was super-nice, too, if painfully dumb. It took him three minutes to enter my order in the computer, and he kept apologizing over and over. I asked him if he knew how to get back to I-70 from there. He said no, he had just moved there recently, and he honestly didn’t even know what I-70 was. I laughed and said, “It’s the huge highway that goes to Denver!” Another guy showed up, and I asked him. He gave me really elaborate, detailed directions, even though the answer was essentially, “Drive down this road and you’ll run into it.” I was a little weirded out when I realized that everyone I had encountered in that town was really, really nice. I had to get out quick.

Before reaching the Rockies, I crossed the Colorado River. There’s this area where the interstate runs through a gigantic gorge alongside the river, and I was almost positive it was running uphill most of the way. Anyway, this section of road is a marvel of modern engineering, and I’m not even joking about that. It actually looks like it belongs there, rather than having been carved out with a lot of destruction. There are two lanes going either direction, and they’re often at different levels, one above the other. There are perfect, smooth curves, so you can set the cruise and go. There are walking and bike paths down along the river. There are cool tunnels. And the scenery is great. Also, these were the very important things I thought about while driving insane distances alone.

I saw Vail and all those big ski areas I’m sure someone cares about. I was surprised to see hardly any snow in the Rockies, considering there were elevations over 10,000 feet, whereas I had hiked in snow in Glacier at only 7000 feet. As I got into the mountains, it started raining a little, and the temperature dropped from 105 to 60. I finally got to turn off the air conditioning. I went through the Eisenhower Tunnel, although I didn’t realize it at the time. Going down the east side of the Rockies, there are a million signs for truckers, warning them about the grade, and they get funnier as you go: “Truckers, don’t be fooled! Steep downward grades ahead! Check brakes!” and “Truckers, you’re not down yet! Are your brakes cool?”

I got into Denver around 8:30. 5,700 miles. I wanted to stop for dinner, but the switch to I-76 skirted town, which was actually kind of nice. I decided to keep going to whatever exit had something promising. That ended up being around 9pm, when I saw a sign that listed a few chain restaurants and Starbucks. I pulled into Starbucks, afraid it would be closed after dinner. I went to the bathroom, and as I went up to the counter, the guy had the cash drawers out, and the woman was washing dishes. I asked him, “Are you closed?” He looked at me like I was stupid, said, “We close at 10,” and walked away. I stood there, stunned. Was it 10pm? Was I in mountain or central time? I had no idea. I asked the woman, “Are you closed? I don’t even know what time zone this is.” I must have seemed really flustered, because she looked concerned. She said no, they were open. I told her what the guy had said. I was exhausted and confused, and she probably thought I was really pissed. She very slowly and deliberately made me coffee, then put it on the counter next to my Starbucks card. I slid the card towards her, and she just looked at me and said, “Have a good night.” I told her she was very nice, and thanked her for the coffee.

I had dinner at Applebee’s, the only sit-down place in town. The food sucked, but it was food. The server sat at my table for a long time and talked about being vegetarian. She was great. In fact, everyone in Colorado was really friendly. I couldn’t figure out whether that should scare me or not.

I got back on the road, hoping to get a couple more hours of driving in. The farther I could make it, the fewer miles I’d have to drive to reach home the next day. Since I was once again in the middle of nowhere with no cell signal, I stopped at a gas station to call Heather on the payphone. While I was standing there talking, bugs were swarming around me. I had to keep stamping my feet to knock off the beetles that were climbing on my shoes.

By 11:30, I couldn’t drive anymore. About 20 minutes outside of Sterling, I saw a mouse run across the highway, and had a bizarre flashback: the last time we were driving through that area about 3 in the morning, while I was dozing in the passenger seat, Heather told me she was seeing mice running across the highway. Then she saw mice flying across the highway. Then we blew a tire. I decided to stop. So I exited and pulled into the first motel I saw, which happened to be the Travelodge. I parked in front of my room, went in, and did the first thing I usually do, strip the bed. I flipped over the pillow, and there was a big black beetle sitting happily underneath. I froze. Now, I have bug paranoia, so that wasn’t great. Our first apartment had roaches, and I will never, ever get over the emotional scars. I was pretty sure this wasn’t a roach, but my head wanted me to believe it was. It was probably one of the million beetle-y bugs from outside. Still, it was big, and it was just sitting there looking at me. I got some kleenex and tried to kill it, but it ran away. I chased it, yelling, “No no no no no!” It disappeared under the bed.

I unmade the other bed and checked all over for bugs. Then I went to get ready for a shower. While I was undressing, another smaller bug ran across the floor. I smashed it with my shoe. In the bathroom, I discovered another black beetle writhing around on its back behind the door. Sufficiently grossed out, I took a shower but didn’t wash my hair – I didn’t want to stick around long enough in the morning to redo it.

I brushed my teeth and re-checked the second bed. I left the bathroom light on because I was freaked, and wanted to be able to see the bugs before they got to me. I laid there for about 20 minutes, having visions of beetles crawling in my bed, in my shoes, into my bag. Also, I still wasn’t convinced they weren’t roaches. I thought about going out to sleep in my car, but then was pissed that I would have to pay for the room. So I got dressed, grabbed my stuff, threw my sleeping bag, pillow, and blankets in the back seat of the car, and went back to the office.

There was another woman at the front desk, checking in. I said, “I can’t stay here, there are bugs all over my room.” The woman signing in stopped writing and stared for a minute, thought about it, and went back to writing. The front desk woman said, “Do you want to try a room upstairs?” I said no, I was just going to go. She printed up my refund and handed it to me without a word.

I thought about trying a different motel, but my other option was the Super 8, and I didn’t hold out much hope for that, either. I already had the creeps. Plus it was 1am and I had showered and brushed my teeth, so why pay $50 for a bed? I decided to drive on to the rest area, which I knew was within 50 miles.

I got back on the interstate, set the cruise at 80, and blasted music. I passed a town every 10 miles. It was pitch black, and reminded me of driving late at night in Montana. I kept the brights on even with oncoming traffic, because I was scared of hitting something. But I did anyway – one of those huge strips of semi tire laying on its side in the middle of the road. I didn’t even see it. It slammed loudly against the bottom of my car, and I thought I was going to be sick. I was sure I would at least have a flat tire. I shut off the stereo and listened, and everything seemed fine. No bumping, no weird noises, no alarms. After ten minutes, I reassured myself that the car was OK.

20 miles later, I found the rest area, right on the Colorado-Nebraska border. There were about ten cars and campers already parked there. I settled in and was comfortable, starting to doze off right away. I closed the screen on the sunroof to block the light and the sound of the rain that was just starting. I woke up a little later, cramped and drenched in sweat. I spent the next few hours flopping around, having delirious dreams. I was in California. I was in Las Vegas. I was sleeping in the desert. I’d wake up confused, remind myself where I was, and go back to the dreams again. At 5am, I had had enough; I probably got an hour of sleep. It was getting light, and the wind was blowing really, really hard. I sat up and saw tons of lightning to the southwest, heading my direction. That decided it; I was getting out of there. I ran to the bathroom, fixed my hair, and got back on the road.

– – – – –

random notes from my travel journal:

it’s 500 miles to denver, through mountains and nothing. i want to cry.

you know you’re tired when you’re thinking picking up a hitchhiker might be a good idea, so you can share driving.

why do all old ladies have the same hairstyle?

i just heard ‘never surrender’ by corey hart. wow.

i so want to be a trucker. i really, really want to make use of the runaway truck ramp, too.

‘no name, colorado.’ joke towns. ha.

– – – – –