Also, it’s hot. Ungodly, feel-your-internal-organs-baking-inside-of-you kind of hot. To all of my desert-dwelling friends who’ll say, Oh but it’s dry heat so it’s bearable. Stop it. No it isn’t. Maybe if there were trees or some shade of any kind anywhere it might have been okay (except between the hours 10am – 5pm when it’s never okay), but there isn’t so it’s awful. I am clearly not desert people. I’ll take the arctic chill of the north Atlantic over the arid heat of Hades’ armpit any day, thank you very much.
That said, I don’t think anybody goes to Vegas for the great outdoors. I certainly didn’t. I was there as part of the bridal party at a Jack and Jill bachelor/bachelorette weekend. It was really the groom’s show, but the bride wanted to have an entourage of her own (she actually bought us tank tops saying as much – in silver sparkle letters no less) so a few members of the bridal party came along for the ride. [It just occurred to me that if the bride reads this, she will probably kill me if I don’t point out the fact that the tank tops were a total joke and she only bought them because they were on super sale. Like five dollars. Which for Vegas, is practically free. Besides, she’s not ‘that bride.’ I would never be friends with ‘that bride.’]
I feel that I should also take a moment to explain that this was no ordinary Vegas weekend – as if there were such a thing. What I mean to say is that I was rolling with a crowd who REALLY knows how to do Vegas. These guys are regulars on the strip and I was not at all prepared for the level on which they operate.
For one thing, they all have well-paying real people jobs. Some of these guys make stupid money, at least by my starving artist standards, so I was highly impressed and slightly terrified by the amount of disposable cash they had to throw around. I, on the other hand, never could have afforded to take the trip at all if it hadn’t been for the generosity of my friend and her fiancé who graciously donated a ton of airline miles, points and love to make it so that I could be a part of this weekend. Thanks guys!
I had never been to Vegas before and if you happen to be a frequent visitor to the blog, you’ll know that my expectations for shenanigans were pretty high. As you’ll recall, I was expecting hookers and dwarf knife-fights to break out on every corner and while that wasn’t exactly the case, Vegas did not disappoint.
I didn’t get to see much of the seedier side of town because I was staying at the Bellagio. Yeah, it was ridiculous. That place is humongous. I got lost on the way to my friend’s suite (which was an entirely different level of awesome) more than once and the groom quipped that if you travel too far down any one hallway, you go back in time. I think it’s probably true, so I wasn’t about to test his theory. Plus it would’ve been a really long walk.
Our first group outing was to the Hofbrauhaus for some traditional German food, music and oh so much beer. A little too much for some of us as it turned out, but this is neither the time nor the place for that story.
We rallied nicely though and got up bright and early for a lovely girls-only brunch the following morning. Ok, actually it was lunch at Margaritaville the following afternoon, but who’s counting?
After lunch we spent the day shopping at the Forum Shops at Caesar’s Palace, which is by far the fanciest mall I’ve ever seen. The shopping in Vegas is not to be believed, if you’re into that sort of thing. Which I’m not. Or at least shouldn’t be…but never mind.
[Spiral escalator! Also, if I had $500 I would totally be rocking that Elie Tahari dress right now. You can’t tell from the picture, but it’s actually blue, textured and shiny and somehow, someday it will be mine!]
Up until that point, everything about the trip had been very posh, but I put an end to that pretty quick, as I am often wont to do. For instance, because direct solicitations are not allowed on the strip, the prostitutes (or their pimps more likely) hire people to hand out mini comp cards containing their name, picture and phone number. I call them Hooker Trading Cards and we collected tons of them.
[I worked hard to stage this photo. It took me forever to find cards where the hookers were clothed enough to be include on the blog. I like to keep it klassy.]
Speaking of klassy, I mentioned to a few of the girls about how Vegas was confounding many of my movie-based expectations. I was expecting more mobsters and card sharks and less Asian tourists, more glitterati and less chain-smoking, fanny-pack clad Midwesterners and old ladies in track suits. I bemoaned the fact that, aside from the throngs of people and behemoth hotels, I thought there would be much more spectacle. Five seconds later, we saw this:
Can you say, game changer?