Annapalooza

What Happens in Vegas…Makes Me Feel Old June 1, 2011

The following is an account of my weekend trip to Vegas.  I’m guessing that the producers of The Hangover will not be calling me for the movie rights. I am slowly realizing that my chances of fist-pumping in the clubs and sipping Cristal in the VIP room are probably numbered…hence these embarrassingly ordinary details. 

Friday night:  Get accosted by approximately 356 workers on the Strip handing out “Girls Direct to You Now” pamphlets.  Speaking of creepiness, am scarred for life by midget dressed like Chucky and mutant/fake “Mickey Mouse” seeking photo ops for tips.  Later attend the Cirque du Soleil show “Ka”.  Conclude it was one of the most amazing things I’ve ever seen but cannot explain plot.  Have million dollar idea of publishing Cliffs Notes for Cirque shows.  In bed by 11:00.

Saturday morning:  Hand out proper eye protection to those who might come in contact with my glow-in-the-dark Wisconsin body.  (Side note regarding non-existent tan:  Worst.  Spring.  Ever.)  Attempt to hit the huge adults-only pool, but cannot find empty chair.  End up at also-crowded “family pool” and begrudge those people who think it’s a good idea to bring children to Vegas.  Give dirty looks to oblivious youngsters who insist on doing cannonballs in the exact spot where I am reading my book.  Order a $14 fruity drink which promptly puts me to sleep.  Once awake, look down at the “party pool” and wonder how those people can drink all day long in the hot sun.  Also realize that despite  recent 7 pound stress-induced weight loss, still have some work to do.  Silently curse self for not appreciating my 25-year-old body when I had it.  Return to hotel room without a tan but rather one big red splotch.

Saturday night:  Have a wonderful albeit expensive meal at Craftsteak, then stop for some high-end shopping.  Wipe drool from mouth after coveting Louis Vuitton; decide not to waste salesperson’s time, even though I would love that $1700 top.  Note to self:  must gamble and win money for dream wardrobe.  At same time, praise Vegas for keeping shops open till midnight.  Later lose forty bucks within 15 minutes playing video poker, crushing all dreams of designer duds.  Fall asleep by 11:30.

Sunday:  Too cold (sigh) for more pool time so I can’t even out my red splotches.  Am calmed by all-day shopping.  More cursing because I can’t find anything (at least not under $1700).  Take nap at 4:00, then have another buffet dinner and attend The Lion King.  Back at hotel, see that management has installed several scantily clad go-go dancers on podiums throughout casino and lobby.  Good thing all those families brought their kids!  (Who needs David Copperfield when I can witness twelve-year-old boys magically entering puberty right before my eyes?)

Monday, 5:00 a.m.:  Finally, am out amongst the club-goers!  Feel false camaraderie with them, as they are heading to bed and I am heading to check-out for my early morning flight.  Guess the VIP Room will have to wait until next time.

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