I'll start with the morning of departure. After a mere couple hours of restless sleep, I awoke to a heartwrenching email. Since the subject had been ongoing for quite some time, it was to the point of envoking feelings of drain and surrender rather than anger. Luckily again, my friend Kate was there to instantly lift me up. I am as close to a zombie as is humanly possible for about the first hour of every day, so I was able to get myself all ready and packed up without issue. Surprisingly even to myself, an old friend was joining Kate and my adventure. I was nervous about how this reunion would unravel, especially in such a high energy setting, but it could not have worked out any better, and I am so thrilled to have invited her. So, after the obvious stop for Starbucks and fbook status announcements, the three of us young and excited ladies were on the road.
None of us had been to Vegas before, so it was up to Mapquest to guide our completely clueless group. Stoked to be out on the open road with the carefully selected and coined "VEGA$$$$" playlist blasting, the highway of never ending stoplights was more than a little disappointing. But only after a couple hours of nonstop girl chat, the open road presented itself. We were off!!!! That is, until a wreckless driver (who definitely never took a drivers ed course and probably shouldn't even be allowed a license) decided it would be amusing to cut me off. Not only that, but then realize it was even more of a mistake to do so since there was a tire in the middle of the lane. Lucky for them, they swerved right back over to their side. Unlucky for me, I didn't have the time or available room to dodge this death trap. The only thing to do: align my car so it goes underneath the middle as opposed to hitting my own tires, and pray FAST. After the screams and booms subsided and we realized we were still alive and traveling in the same direction, I pulled over to assess the damage. None of us said it, but we were all thinking "Vegas is canceled".
Thankfully, Kate had AAA and cell service. After being instructed to leave the car off just in case, we stood around for an hour. In the 100+ heat. In the middle of nowhere. Without A/C. Being honked at several times, but not receiving any good samaritan pull-overs. Finally our hero arrived!! Describing the only visible damage (a wire hanging underneath and a back corner panel dangling) to our knight in shining overalls, our spirits were beginning to lift. That is until we learned that mechanics don't actually have to know anything about cars to be a mechanic. Not even willing to call up a fellow coworker who might know what to do, he finally agreed to rummage through his truck for something to tie up the wire. After he zip-tied (what mechanic doesn't carry duct tape??) the wires up and I kicked back in the panel, we were assured we'd at least make it to Vegas. We all wanted to get there so badly, that was all we needed to hear. Music once again at full blast, we were cruising. Then, another loud pop. The panel was back to dangling/scraping along the cursed Highway 93. This is where I derived my self-acclaimed nickname, "MacGyvette". Cheesy, of course. My car's name is Cindy the Civic and I still think knee slapping over a bad joke is appropriate. I'm a cheesemeister. Anyway, we pulled out the big guns after this second highway pull-over. Rounding up whatever we could find, we secured that panel with skills that couldn't be taught. ....we tied about ten hair ties together, looped it through whatever loop we could find, and secured it with a twig. Shear genius. After another stop due to the hair ties (remaining intact!) being too loose and stretchy, I cut up an old iPod radio transmitter to finish the job. Thing of beauty. This is when a cop finally decides to enter the scene. Only to catch us littering the scrap iPod cord pieces and ask why a phone charger was looped around my car. I am very proud to declare that I finally was able to talk to a cop without shaking AND not receive a ticket. After all, I was headed to VEGAS. Nothing would get me down.
My passengers were in need of some hype boostage, so they set to work cracking open a warm Dos with scissors, keys, minimal blood, and finally, success via an eyelash curler. Females are always much, much more prepared than we realize. Playing every song related to Las Vegas or "The Hangover", we rolled onto Las Vegas Boulevard. Here. We. Go.
Quickly changing into sundresses and wedges (we all had an intense urge to feel pretty after a hot and dusty ride in), we hit the town. First things first: FOOD! This is when we first discovered how incredible Vegas was about to be. As we hastily attacked our Baja Fresh burritos, a young man fresh from the pool approached us. My first thoughts: Why is this dude disrupting our heavenly meal, and WHY did he approach three chicks gorging down messy food like starving lions? Without too much of an introduction, he got down to business (I appreciated his style). If we wanted, he would put us on a VIP list for an exclusive club, where we would skip the lines, enter for free, and hang out in expensive cabanas with richie riches, all FOR FREE. All he needed-an okay and a number. Vegas, I love you.
Only able to explore a few hotels before dark, we headed back to our room to begin the extensive yet necessary process of getting ourselves beautiful. It was clearly our first time, since we weren't ready until about two hours after we were supposed to be at the first club. Running out the door, it was a unanimous vote to ditch the heels within minutes. We had places to be. We'll look good later. While Mikkel and Kate ran to keep up with my praying mantis legs, I guided us with solid efficiency down to the complete opposite end of the strip. Over an hour later, we finally made it. Quickly strapping back on the painful yet gorgeous heels to cover our jet black feet, we strut our stuff right into that club. No lines, no fees, only smiles and butterflies. We ended up spending our first night at Surrender with some guys, mostly from Canada, who were in town for an entire month for a poker tournament. These boys...around my ripe age...were winning millions of dollars. Lucky for them, I was there to educate them on the humanitarian way to spend their winnings. We'll just pretend that's what they wanted to hear. One of them was even insisting I let him take me skydiving the next morning! I almost consented, too. A girl who can't even climb a step ladder without fluttered breath almost jumped out of a plane because...When in Vegas! After yelling at the cab driver for trying to take advantage of us and our money, we made it back to our hotel. And it was only 6:00 AM. Night One: Success.
Saturday started a couple hours later than planned, but deep down we all knew that was going to happen. Throwing on swim suits and mixing up mimosas for the walk, we began the semi painful journey to find food and then a pool. After locating the food court that we unsuccessfully saught after the night before, we gulfed down some beloved Panda bowls. Thennn wanted to throw them up. The evening before, a man in a pimp suit sold us tons of free admission passes to pool parties and night clubs in some back alley, so us lucky girls had options. Trying to mix it up, we scratched going to the pool close to last night's club, and headed to Liquid at Hotel Aria. Being escorted through a huge resort with several pools, we were confused when told we weren't at Liquid yet. Then we heard the bass and shouts. Walking into Liquid, we were all immediately energized. What a party. The ladies were all trying to look sexy while they sunbathed and danced, while the boys attacked each other with squirt guns like they were all ten years old again. What a setup for a psychoanalyzer like myself! Smiles on and moods lifted by the cool water, it was time to sit and wait for our drinks. Our friend Kate is a master at getting us drinks without even doing anything. Everyone just knows she's a sweetheart. And apparently I look unapproachable so good thing I had her! Some guy offered to buy us pina coladas and daiquiris within minutes. Once again, so thankful for that double X chromosome. Getting annihilated by those damn squirt guns immediately, I was wondering how high maintenance chicks handled this place. We stayed there until it closed at 6:00, having met several new highly entertaining friends. From Nicholas Cage's ginormous and filthy rich body guard, to young lawyers and goofy big dudes, the spectrum was covered. The one coincidence among all Vegas men: Money. I don't know how common that actually is, of course, but we went from hanging with successful gamblers to inheritance lawyers like it was totally normal. Again, girls get taken care of in this city.
Back to the hotel for a quick power nap, it was onto round two. Improving a little from last night, we were out the door while the night was still young. Hitting club Haze in hotel Aria first, I couldn't have felt more like a princess. Cutting all the lines and meeting men in tuxes with their bent arms awaiting mine, we again were escorted to VIP tables. One security guard even told us we had to move literally one foot toward another table since the girls at that specific table did not want us there. Then their men bought us drinks. Good thing my ego had plenty of room to rise coming into this place! The crowds, the lights, the music, the go-go dancers with the most amazing costumes I've ever seen...I almost made a career change right then and there. I was determined to hit more than one club this night, so I pulled on my mama pants and got us going on to the next club: The Bank at the luxurious Bellagio. Here, we met up with some guys from the pool earlier, and again received free drinks everywhere we turned. Unfortunately, Kate wasn't feeling too good (she was in no way used to this desert heat) and needed to go back to the hotel room before I could tear up the dance floor. We soon learned that we were at least 15 parties behind in a line for a cab, which is when another Vegas bucket list item got checked off. One guy that was with us saw a vacant limo and made the executive decision (like anyone would argue) that it would be our taxi. Hello, limo down Las Vegas Boulevard at 4:30 AM!!! After getting Kate all tucked away, it was back out to the strip. Wanting just a quick snack, we ended up wandering hotels unsuccessfully for far too long. Finally settling on good ol' Denny's, we watched the sun rise and yet again, Mikkel and I did not have to pay a dime. I was still hungry for adventure, so while Mikkel went to bed, my new friend and I set off to see the rest of the sun rise by a pool. Although everything else is 24 hours, apparently pool attendants want to rebel. Unable to carry out that master plan, I still enjoyed a fun conversation that made me feel priceless. Ending the night at a mere 7:00 AM, I curled into bed one happy camper.
The drive home began three hours later than planned, but again, we all knew that was inevitable. The five hour drive down the barren desert highway was in no way as exhilarating as the drive up, and it took everything in me to remain awake and sane. Delirium, I later realized, set in before the drive had even begun. But my guardian angels are hard workers, and we got Kate off to the airport on time and all made it home safely. I have had two days to recover, and I hardly even drank. I fully understand how others go through legitimate withdrawal after leaving that place. However, I am already too antsy to go back. There is still SO much left to explore, and who doesn't enjoy being called beautiful and doted on all day and night? Now that I know how inexpensive it really is for girls, guaranteed I'll be planning my next trip very soon. I feel rejuvenated, motivated, and so special and beautiful. This trip could not have happened at a better time.
Now it is back to reality. Time to figure out school, my Korea trip, moving out of my apartment, and all the other tasks on my never ending list of things to do in less than two weeks. That is all quite a story as well, but that'll be for another post. Ecstatic for all the adventures that await me, I have regained hope unknown to myself for a little too long. Just once more, for good measure....VEGAS, BABYY.
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