On this, the weekend of Chris’s wedding
Since I knew I was going to be out of town for Mother’s Day, I made the visit home weekend before last. I knew my mom had been sick, but she had been to the doctor earlier in the week and was feeling better. When I left town and began my drive, I found out that my dad had just gotten sick himself. I knew then that it wasn’t going to turn out well, and briefly considered turning the car around and visiting another time. But maybe, I thought, if I drank enough overpriced vitamin-laced water, and didn’t overdo things for the next week, I’d be okay. I could dance with the germ devil and come out alright. And even if not, hey, it’s not like I haven’t done the sick in Vegas thing multiple times before.
I am really fucking tired of being sick in Vegas.
When I woke up Thursday feeling under the weather, I called in a favor from the family doc and picked up my prescription a few hours later. Maybe, just maybe, if I started the antibiotics right at the beginning of things and didn’t push myself too hard with late nights, it wouldn’t be so bad. I napped a bit, did some laundry, ran errands, and then headed off for my Spanish final. I arrived home a few hours later around 9, and then proceeded to get wrapped up in roommate drama, Entourage reruns, and finished my packing around 2am. I awoke two hours later to head off to the airport.
So much for the getting plenty of rest idea.
Sitting next to me on my flight was a sweet older lady who perfectly embodies who I want to be when I grow up. I inquired if she was headed to Vegas or if she was finishing the second leg of the trip, to San Jose. She replied that she was going to Montana to see her son and his family for Mother’s Day. Now, I’m no geography expert (got the nice pretty D on my grade report to prove that), but I know Texas to Montana via Nevada is a bit out of the way. She explained that normally she goes to Vegas herself every Mother’s Day weekend, but since this time she was visiting her son, she arranged her flights so that she could stay a few days in Vegas after the visit. That’s one cool grandma. When I’m in my 60s, I still want to be the degenerate sneaking in a few days in Vegas anyway I can.
I arrived in Vegas shortly before ten (yes, that’s AM) and headed off for the MGM, having no idea what the hell I was going to do with myself at such an insane hour. Ideally, I’d get my early check-in and could catch up on some sleep before needing to head to the wedding. Alternatively, I knew there was a chair in either the poker room or the sportsbook that needed filling.
After checking in at the MGM and being assured that my room would be ready by 3 at the latest, and then finding the poker room depressingly empty, I decided today would then be pony day. I did alright, spending several hours there in between calls to guest services to check on my room status, and only ending up a loser thanks to the $5 bet I placed on the Mets game that night on Alan’s behalf. (Not that he asked me to do so; rather, like the degenerate I am, I did it simply because it was there). Larry King was hanging out in the sportsbook as well, and would create a stir everytime he got up to take a call on his cellphone. And by stir, I mean that everyone over the age of 50 (which is pretty much everyone awake in Vegas before noon) would gape and murmur amongst themselves if that was indeed really him.
When my room was finally ready, I headed off in search of a nap before the wedding. I was a little bummed that my room was on the first floor, but the fact that it was literally around the corner from the poker room made up for it. The big fluffy bed with lots of pillows helped too. You know how in the girly movies there’s always a scene where the girl leaps up and lands on her bed, with the big down comforter and lots of girly pink pillows? Yea, that was me. Different pillows, but just as dorky. No sleep though, just a quick rest before heading out to the wedding.
Because I am a girl and couldn’t fit my camera into my purse, I left it behind, knowing I could count on at least Bill to be carrying. So you go there now and look at how beautiful Kori was (is) and how handsome Chris and all the other boys looked in their monkey suits. The ceremony was beautiful, and for the record, I did not cry (but I did come close). The reception after was wonderful, filled with good food and good friends. I did learn however, that when Hank asks if anyone wants anything from the bar, saying “whatever” can be dangerous. I expected to get the same as everyone else; instead I got a fruit-laced bright pink SoCo concoction that the mere suggestion of would put Al on super-mega-tilt.
Post-reception plans were made to hit the Parasol bar at the Wynn, with a little poker before hand. I headed back to the MGM with the always beautiful factgirl and her always cheerful husband. We changed out of our respective fancy duds, I called nearly everyone I knew in Vegas, and then we met up in the cab line to hit the Wynn.
This was my first visit to the Wynn. I’ve never had an overwhelming desire to visit before, since we all know where my loyalties lie, but I am slowly progressing on my goal of having visited every casino on the Strip, and this would be another one I could check off my list. The casino is beautiful, but to me it’s a less elegant, more hipster version of the Bellagio. Plus they’re just a wee bit uppitity about their little bar, and God forbid you sit down (no standing!!) and only order water.
The poker room is nice, but again is awfully similar to Bellagio, right down to the big chairs and crammed in tables. Facty, fh, and I signed up for a $4/$8 game and I took an immediate seat at one table while they opened up a new one. I moved over shortly after and within minutes, it was Rounders – we came all this way just to play the same game we always do. Having a great time, we squeezed in a few more hands before breaking up the table and heading to the bar.
Once Franklin found enough chairs for us to sit in, we were allowed entry and found the party in full swing. We hung out for a couple of hours, and then, as I was going to join Eric for more poker, I hit the wall – the “I’ve been up for 24 hours now and I’m sick so I should really have been sleeping at some point” wall. I felt bad for bailing on the poker, but I had to get back to the MGM. Franklin and facty were calling it an early night too, since they had to leave town in a few hours to make another wedding in California.
I assume Vegas cab drivers do know about the Wynn. I mean, while it is on the end of the Strip, it’s kinda big and it does have a familar name attached to it. You begin to wonder if they missed the memo though when you’re waiting in line for one there. While it was annoying, it did provide an opportunity for one of my weekend highlights, and a reminder of why I absolutely adore the lovely factgirl. Of course, it’s cruel for me to even mention the moment here, because I’m not going to detail it out for you, since there is no way I can do it justice. I mention it mainly because I know it will make her happy to see her name in print. 😉 But next time you see her, hand her a stick of gum and ask for the boat story. Well worth the price of admission.
Saturday was another long day, but only 22 hours this time. It was, however, an absolute blast. This might have had something to do with it. You’ll have to wait for that though, as I have sleep to catch up on.