There's something really amazing about watching the sun set over the mountains/desert of Nevada. Kate and I sang Jenny Lewis songs at the top of our lungs (sidenote about the movie of my life: at one point, all the the influential women in my life will come to me in a dream and give me advice in their own words and they will all actually guest star in the move: Chrissie Hynde, Oprah, Jenny Lewis, Terry Gross, Sarah Jessica Parker. I would like to be played by Zooey Deshanel. Ah! I digress... ) After a weird stop at the Hoover Dam, it was dark and the visitor center was closed, it was a very short drive to Vegas. Quotes from Kate: "If this wasn't the Hoover Dam, I'd think those people were smoking pot." "They need some Stadium lights up in this bitch."
Las Vegas is in valley in the desert, and when you approach the city at night, the entire city's lights glitter for miles. It glitters. It got me thinking about how a city can function solely on the tourism industry... schools, grocery stores, doctors, lawyers, government agencies, landscapers, vendors for things like food, clothing, napkins and shit. It's not just people working in the hotels, or strippers. Kate had been to Vegas a number of times before, but I decided to take charge booking the hotel. I decided on the Monte Carlo, because they had an advertisement for Mini Kiss on their website. Mini Kiss is a Kiss cover band comprised of midgets. As for Walter, we snuck her in a zippered L.L. Bean boat and tote bag, and I put a disposable kitty litter pan in my own giant bag. It was pretty seamless. On our way out the next morning, the cleaning ladies were in the hall- we just dropped the kitty pan in their cart and no one was the wiser.
My fantasies about Vegas were probably formed from watching an infinite number of sitcom television shows and romantic comedies- I've always wanted to elope in Vegas, and to be wed by an Elvis impersonator. This is seriously, not a joke. One of my other fantasies included walking down the strip in either a glitter dress, or stretch pants. But our plan was more like, get dressed in reasonably normal clothes (actually, I did end up wearing leggings.) Kate and I got ready to the new episode of Modern Family, and I was excited for a hot shower, then head out. The view of the Strip from our room was awesome.
Upon leaving the hotel, I realized two things: 1) People in Vegas are relentless. There are all these people trying to push things on you, like crazy Mexican men trying to give you cards with the phone numbers of prostitutes (I wonder who pays these guys? The pimps? A temp agency? Plus, I'm not gay!) 2) Kate and I were among the most attractive women walking around the Strip that Wednesday night- everyone else was either old, part of a touristy looking couple, or both. We came to this realization because of all the crazy people trying to get us in their club, enticing us with cheap drinks or free admission, and because some wicked scary voice from behind asked, "You ladies goin' clubbin?" I literally ran down the stairs, faster than a speeding bullet. My feet have never moved that fast- I was like Fred Astaire. Get it!? This freaked out Kate because of the size of the heel on my boot. Close call, creepy dude. (I just asked Kate if she saw his face and she said she did and it was so scary she doesn't want to talk about it, that those were some empty eyes.)
We hit some hotels and shopping centers and settle on the Ballagio. I say settle like it wasn't the setting for Ocean's 11 and I didn't know that the rooms were insanely expensive and out of our price range. My mom taught me how to play Black Jack during the Ice Storm of '98, so I bellied up and bought in to the table like it was no big deal. Kate said that I should only order bottled beer from the cocktail waitresses (drinks are free when you gamble), because everything else is watered down. Well! I got a vodka-soda, sucked it down, then a bourbon on the rocks and sucked it down, to prove that they were, in fact, not watered down. Surprise! I lost my winnings, got drunk, and the Epic Meltdown of 20-10 happened.
We walked across the street to a bar/casino called O'Shea, or O'Shay's or something. It was an Irish bar, and Kate immediately says she doesn't like it because she doesn't like Boston. Although I can't quite articulate why this made me so incredibly angry, and I'm not going to go into detail about the ridiculous things I said at that time or try and explain myself and the logic behind the crazy things I said. But I will defend Boston and my Beantown pride, though I'm not actually from there, now, because I'm sober.
In elementary school, field trips to the aquarium were always really exiting. Boston was the place we always had to drive to in high school to see the best bands. Boston was the place we all dreamed about going to college in- the big city, and they are a serious college town. In college, I got my first piercing in Boston. There are no major sporting teams in Maine, we've got the Sox, the Patriots and Celtics- Boston teams. Before I started drinking beer, and before I knew what microbrews were, I always thought I'd drink Sam Adams, the Boston lager. Flying to the West Coast or internationally, it's usually cheaper to fly out of Boston. We didn't have a city in Maine, which is part of why Maine is the glorious place it is, so we have to live vicariously through Boston. If I'm alone, travelling and lonely, and I find there's someone from anywhere in New England or someone wearing a Sox hat, I immediately feel comforted. People in Massachusetts have summer homes in Maine, and hell, Maine used to be PART of Massachusetts. I love Boston, even today.
Kate and I made up, well, she chose to ignore my wildly inappropriate behavior and even though she'd only had three Coronas and I was drunk and sleepy, we went to bed. She cashed out of the casino that night with almost $100, so it wasn't a total loss. The next morning as we were checking out, I ran into a couple that I recognized from the Portland Jetport on Monday morning. I couldn't help but ask them, "Excuse me, are you on vacation? Oh, can I ask from where? ME TOO! I thought I'd recognized you two from the airport!" Small world. Next stop: bowling and tacos with Craig Hildebrand.
No comments:
Post a Comment