Well, let's clarify that. I'm too old for weekends of drinking, clubbing, and more drinking, in the heat in Vegas. Sure, one or two drinks at a time serve me well, but after more than that on the first day and night of our arrival, I was pretty much done for the weekend, as far as alcohol goes.
As for clubbing, the entire DJ cultish atmosphere is lost on me. We went to Tao in The Venetian, and danced (which is always fun), and laughed (which is the whole reason why I attend these events), and tried to keep that creepy guy away from Kerry (which is a constant struggle wherever we go). But the "DJ" showed up, after a fashion, rapped through a couple songs, cut off a couple other songs, seemed to do a lot of yelling, and then just ... disappeared. He was on stage for about an hour, and then left, without even saying goodbye or anything. Weird. I'm just never going to understand that culture, I suppose, because even after experiencing it, I still didn't get it.
Also that night, I had, like, two drinks, and then ate ice cubes the rest of the night. That's what I meant by being done with the alcohol.
My entire focus on Sunday was the hamburger I was having for lunch. In fact, most of my mental exercise over the weekend was spent figuring out what and where we were going to eat. Almost all the itinerary had on it was alcohol and clubbing, which wasn't enough for me. Luckily, Andrea and I discovered the best chicken tenders ever in the hotel food court, and then made use of the in-room dining menu. My burger on Sunday though, was worth the price of admission, for sure.
I also got too warm out by the pool on Saturday afternoon, and was among the first to decamp and head inside. I'm a desert person now, and where I'm from, there's no reason in the world to hang out in the sunshine any longer than you absolutely have to. And also, the water in the lazy river was looking ... polluted. It was definitely time for me to move myself inside. Some quiet time with my Vanity Fair, pita chips, a view of the airport, and Starbucks made for a perfect afternoon.
My one flash of brilliance was bringing along my Toms, because they are comfortable, and black and sparkly, so I wore them out on Friday and Saturday nights. Toms are an excellent choice for spending time in a club, people; trust me on this. I wasn't even in the club, and I was seriously pleased with my decision. I've come to realize that, at 41 years old, I am not made for high heels, and the act of walking in them. And when faced with the looks of envy from others, I was even more sure of my choice. Forever now, maybe, I will wear Toms out to the dancing, clubbing establishments.
The drive out to Las Vegas, with Andrea, was awesome. The drive home from Las Vegas, without Andrea, was quiet and boring. I paraphrase Andrea: "That wouldn't be the case if you lived where you should be." Truer words have never been spoken.
No comments:
Post a Comment