Thursday* I was my day of work for all-things packing and planning-related. Just as I was ready to leave, I receive a voicemail from United detailing weather cancellations to/from Chicago (where I was connecting). My flight had been rescheduled for the next day. You know that I was not having that. After a 20-minute concerned conversation with a United reservation advisor, I was booked on a plane leaving in less than an hour from CLE and hightailed it to the airport mess.
I love Denver airport MUCH better than Fucking O’Hare, yet without fail, I’m delayed again. Denver decided to welcome eight feet of snow that evening and close down nearly half the runways. After the smoking lounges and bars closed, I diligently practiced conforming my body around bars separating concourse seats to attempt a nap. (The guy that was face-down on the floor near the window certainly had the right idea). My flight to Vegas finally boarded some time around midnight. I was so crashed (and potentially seriously inebriated from boredom) that I fell asleep on the plane and slept right through take-off. My bags were graciously presented promptly at the luggage claim. Next stop: sitting in traffic at TWO IN THE MORNING in a cab with an empty belly and a running meter. Eventually I arrive at Palace Station Hotel & Casino (our one-night one-star selection until we check into our resort at noon Friday). Late Night room service delivers me the grandest burger 30 minutes later with a fuckton of french fries. The Hot Sister Brigade was complete when Phoenix Sis arrived Friday morning just in time for an all-you-can-eat breakfast buffet (for only $6!!).
Upon checking in at The Fairfield Grand Desert Friday afternoon, the delightful weather encourages some much-needed RNR at the adult pool. If I might mention, so I never have to speak these words again, that we’re also staying at the driest resort in Vegas. So dry, that it’s completely dry. We were miles from where any mini bottle can hear you. While basking in the glow of the desert sun, I hear a middle-aged male vacationer exclaim, “Stevie Nicks is the BEST performer EVER!!” Did I just book a vacation to Bizarro World?
Later that night at the Rio, bartenders ran amok in order to please the HSB with “Drink of the Month!” while visions of video poker subjected us for endless hours of entertainment while waiting for Club Rio to open. A couple fuzzy cocktail hours (and a jalapeno pretzel) later, we nixed the idea of Club Rio and headed straight for Rain. Strutted straight to the man-with-the-clipboard (and past all the exclusivity of “Line starts here” signs) and dropped the last name. He flipped a few papers for pure eye-rolling attitude readjustments and let us through. Of course there was no name on any “list” — we’re just hot.
And before you can high five with a “Hells yeah,” the club manager approaches with armbands and leads us to a skybox. And what would a Vegas nightclub be without my own Greek shipping heir? Called him out from across the room, and then he practically barricaded the exit when it was our time to exit. Stupid, stupid boys — even the foreign ones. This was a fairly early evening, but I think all the traveling caught up with us and a full-nights rest was welcome… and one of the sistas caught some nasty food poisoning.
Who does homework on a Saturday morning? I mean, pardon me, who does homework on a Saturday morning in Vegas. (I have a paper due the DAY I return — WHICH I got an “A” thankyouverymuch). I had some guy friends from Cleveland also in town and joined them at New York, New York’s ESPN zone to cheer on the Buckeyes. I had an employee reprimand me when I walked out to enjoy a cigarette and make a quick “O-H…” call back home. Apparently cell phones are not allowed in front of gaming screens?? When she mentioned this, I turned around and talked in the opposite direction. She didn’t think this was funny.
Although I miss the smell of the fall air back home, Vegas was definitely the perfect party choice to shake what our momma gave us. I was so impressed with the (dirty) minds of Vegas tourists that most vacationers guessed correctly our attempt at the “Sexy Village People.” I was the Indian (and I heard many a remark about Pocahontas) — the construction worker, cowboy, and police officer rounded out my remaining siblings. When walking through Monte Carlo, one of the Poker dealers clapped and sang when we walked through. EVERYONE turned around to see the commotion — classic. Additionally, every chance we had, we stood in our “Y M C A” poses. 
We were invited to Dennis Rodman’s Halloween party at Tangerine (Yes, I WISH personally and NO we did not see him). I was impressed with the variety and quality of costumes at Tangerine. Again, we were invited to a private table in VIP. I met ANOTHER foreigner that actually attempted to program a London number into my cell phone. I’m sure that was a pleasant monetary addition to my cell phone bill for October. We all danced our pretty little asses off until we realized bathrooms were NOT inside the club (they’re out in the casino) and the lounge was at capacity — as were most clubs that night. We opt for a heaping helping of jalapeno pizza pie at one of The Strip’s late-night food joints and plunk down some pennies in the slots at Harrah’s, but not before being accosted by a gaggle of Marilyn drag queens.
A day of shopping at Caesers sounds like the perfect way to begin a Sunday! We did a little bit of sight-seeing of some of the casinos on the main strip and enjoyed an awesome Mexican lunch — that ruined our stomachs’ plans to have a fancy steak dinner later that evening. Being completely preoccupied with my winning streak at one of those dollar bill wheel games (what the hell is that game CALLED??), I almost didn’t care that Gene Simmons walked by. One of the sisters walked over to him to take a picture — and he starts motioning for the rest of us to come over. Again, I’m WINNING over here and I really don’t care that OMG-it’s-Gene-Simmons!! We take a group photo and he mumbles what sounds like, “So, do you do that thing that sisters do?” (Yes, he went there). My sister, sassy thing she is, remarks, “What? Pillow fight?” While at the “wheel-thingy-game,” a guy passes that my sister recognizes from Pittsburgh. Ahem, would it be a vacation if there wasn’t a mention of a baseball player encounter?? There was your mention. Any-who, he invites us to join him and his friends at Pure later that night.
On one of our previous outings, the club OPM was mentioned. We decided to check it out since we would be at Caesers anyway. The bouncer was BORDERLINE ass-hattish (this time we really WERE on the list), but eventually gave into our lovely sister charm. Have I mentioned that almost every drink I’ve had in Vegas thus far has been paid by someone-other-than-me — mostly by the casinos, but not by me… why do you think I gambled? OPM, being no exception, had free champagne for the ladies until midnight. And then…. and THEN… Pure. The BEST club and the BEST time I’ve had in my LIFE. Table in VIP, bottle service and 8 of the coolest fucking guys on the planet.
The minor-leaguer with the light eyes in the corner looked as if his vacation needed to end quickly. We danced and drank and laughed and danced… and when we closed out the club (uh, the music stopped, you can stop dancing!), played roulette at Caesers until 8 a.m. On a short bathroom break, I attempted my luck at Keno. Seriously. Most boring casino game ever. Back to roulette where I spent the remainder of my partner-in-crime’s chips. He was teaching me (again) and I was sucking, of course. We succumb to the sunlight peeking through the glass doors and enjoy a breakfast in a perfect morning-after walk-of-shame fashion. Have you ever had PB & banana-stuffed French Toast? Me either. I’m sure you can guess the descriptive adjectives used to properly describe these slices of heaven on my plate smothered in all that warm syrup. Well, the boy (I emphatically encourage “boy” over “man” in strictly an age difference manner) and I left in separate cabs never to see each other again… 
Monday: Our last day! Obviously, I had no sleep, so I relax outside with my iPJHiser and take a power nap out by the pool before I put on some stretchy pants to fully enjoy the experience they call the World Buffet. There is so much freaking food here — and I want to eat desserts first… or only, I don’t care really. I just want to eat them out of business. We started with Mexico, went to Italy, then I found corn dogs. The guy at the other table that resembled my sister’s fiancee laughed when I licked gelato off my sister’s chest. Uh, it fell off my spoon and there were no napkins around. Am I still drunk? Am I delirious? Note to self: Never take a six-day vacation to Vegas EVER. It’s just too much.
After dinner, we cabbed over to Fremont Street to check out “old Vegas” and its lightshow. Bored within an hour and the purchase of a couple souvenir shot glasses later, we cab it back over to the new-and-improved Las Vegas strip. The rest of the evening was spent walking through the hotels and casinos, watching the Bellagio’s awesome water display, checking out the penis statues, and enjoying time with the sisters. I tried my hand at that stupid wheel again and lost everything I owned… well, I had enough to play some more video poker again before heading back to pack. I walked away with a redemption stub for $31… and held on to a $10 chip for those table memories.
One-by-one we head for the airport on Tuesday to fly back to our respective cities. We had to leave Phoenix Sis behind since she caught the same food poisoning the other sis suffered at the beginning of the vacation. I get home somewhere around midnight and wait impatiently for pictures to be emailed… and study for an exam I have Thursday.
Vegas was AWESOME. I can’t wait to go back and have wondered why I hadn’t done this vacation locale earlier in life. The time was just right.
*Oh, you’re still here? That’s GREAT! Let’s remember the following events took place the weekend of October 27-31st. Thank you. Good night.
