The WAC(AC)-ness
This story, like many of my good ones, involves Las Vegas. Unlike most of my other tales, however, this bit also prominently features my coworkers.
Can you hear the proverbial record skipping?
I have been to Vegas quite a few times since I've turned 21 and it's not a place that holds much glamor or excitement for me anymore. I will admit that it is fun to go for a few days to eat some good food and see a spectacle, but the city itself is just too much.
Despite getting a late start, Kim, my coworker, and I got to the airport just in time to make our flight to Las Vegas. The previous time we had tried the same trick, we almost missed our flight due to a stipulation that we check in half an hour prior to the flight leaving. Rushing up to the self-serve kiosk, we put in our cards and were presented with identical messages. "Canceled." What was going on? We were in time for our flight and we would have made it if we were able to get our boarding passes and get through security but we now had to wait in line to see an attendant and chances were that we were going to miss our flight. Now, this wasn't so bad as we were actually flying a day earlier but this would be the third straight time that I was either late or about to miss a flight for this one conference in the three years that I had been going.
As we ran up to the counter, we learned that our flight itself, and not our reservations, had been canceled so we were somewhat relieved to discover that we had been put on standby for the next flight. All right. So things were going to take a bit longer but that was fine. How did we celebrate our small victory? By indulging in some overpriced terminal pizza and throwing back a glass of wine. Did I mention that it was not even 11:00? From there, things went rather smoothly and we managed to get on the plane and settle in.
As we stepped out of the plane, Kim noted that McCarran was the only airport that she had been in where a traveler could immediately tell what city he or she was in. Perhaps the banks of slot machines at the gates tipped her off? I, on the other hand, was assaulted by a number of sights before leaving the terminal that indicated that I was definitely not in Kansas anymore.
Traveling for work has taught me how to pack and to navigate a crowded airport and things were going smoothly until I came across an advertisement for a shooting range. I get it. I mean, you're on a vacation in Vegas and the city already has a reputation for allowing people to shed their inhibitions, so why not put a poster of a gun in an airport? If given the time, I might even indulge in such an activity, although my background leads me to shoot for accuracy and not just the thrill of feeling hot metal in my hands. This poster, however, was not just to alert tourists to the existence of the gun range--it had a half-naked woman holding a large semi-automatic rifle. Know your audience, I guess.
I followed the other people on my flight down to the baggage carousel and was chagrined to learn that some of our party had checked luggage. Who does that anymore? Mind you we were only staying for three days and there was no way that a Vegas trip, even with multiple outfits per day, warranted the horror of waiting for your bags. However, had this pit stop not happened, I would never have had the chance to see some kind of group (the consensus was that it was a bachelor party) wearing shirts that featured "Top Gun" insignia on the front...and the nicknames from the movie on the back. Okay, so I get that it might be some kind of inside joke or whatever but these people were not really old enough to have the movie be a proper reference and also looked like used frat boys who had a harsh night prior. Only in Vegas, I guess.
The crowning achievement, however, was the opportunity to talk to our cab driver on the way to the hotel. We learned a number of things about this man's life, but the most fascinating, by far, was the discussion that he had with his wife about purchasing Celine Dion tickets and how ridiculously expensive they were. In the end, his wife suggested that the cab driver could easily buy a number of prostitutes for the price of the tickets. "So that's how we're starting off this conference, I guess."
Kim and I managed to put our things away in our hotel and then called another coworker, Shannon, who had already landed in order to meet up for a bit and plan dinner. Braving the impossible Vegas sun, we made our way to the Forums and a wonderful haute chocolate shop (it'll be funny in a second) that I had read about prior to our trip. While the items in the store were a little pricey, the three of us did manage to pick up some good items and got free samples from the associates. Hands down, the two best finds were the roosters and bacon chocolate.
I can just hear it now, "Bacon chocolate?!" Yes, a chocolate bar with bacon bits. I admit that all of us were a bit hesitant to try it, but the free samples could not be ignored. The inspiration for the bar was apparently chocolate chip pancakes with syrup and bacon. Makes sense, right?
After a bit of shopping and spending way too much money at Banana Republic, Kim and I made the long trek back to the hotel room to get ready for dinner. A few hours and a couple of outfits later, our threesome made its way to TI, née Treasure Island, to dine at Social House. Dinner cost a bit more than it should have, but our rationale was that we were going to skimp on the rest of our meals and that eating one great dinner was worth it. Our hostess led us back through a maze of corridors to a section that overlooked the lagoon outside and the (in)famous Sirens.
Dinner was great and was followed by a trip to the Mirage for some after-dinner drinks. Shannon had to leave for a bit, so Kim and I ended up hanging out in the lounge area of Japonais. I have to say that being able to relax on padded seats after a long day of shopping and eating was quite good. Something about the design of the place made the bustle of the casino fade away in favor of recorded music accompanied by the low rumble of the nearby waterfall. The thought that's put into the construction of these sensory experiences is always mind-blowing and a little bit creepy as I have the tendency to feel as though my actions have been predetermined.
One drink later, it was nearing 10:00 and it was time to kick things into high gear. Or, at least my sad old person version of high gear. I found the strength to pull myself off of the couch and head over to Revolution to meet back up with Shannon and another coworker, Maureen. Some band was playing live music, which was passable, but I found it striking how many younger kids were in the place. Maybe these kids just looked young, but they very much reminded me of disaffected hipsters back in Los Angeles. The night was going rather well (if you discount the time that I knocked a beer bottle out of Shannon's hand--and I wasn't even drunk) and we proceeded to commandeer the Love set for some photos that took close to half an hour to complete. I wonder if people were staring at us from the casino floor wondering what we were doing. Who cares. I have my photo and I'm damn proud of it.
