I’ve been a bit AWOL lately. You see, there are certain things in life that can derail you from recapping your little Vegas trip to the (undoubtedly eager) internet. One such thing is a phone call from your parents/babysitters moments after your plane has landed back in New York at on Thursday, informing you that your baby has a double ear infection, a virus, and a fever of 104.5 degrees.
(Have I mentioned that we were literally gone for two and-a-half days? And Toopweets has never really been sick before?)
We subsequently had a tearful reunion, which commenced “Operation: No Sleep ‘Til 2008.” This involves lots of cool stuff, including, but not limited to: countless hours at the pediatrician, a severely dehydrated baby, the aforementioned double ear infection, Snotfest II: The Snottening, and of course, no rest for J, Toopweets, or me. Sick babies--Fun for the whole family!
And The Little Fever That Could? Why, the following night, it climbed to 105.8 FUCKING DEGREES.
We have never been more terrified in our lives. Fortunately, Toopweets is much better now (knock wood). And J & I have both developed close, middle-of-the-night phone relationships with the pediatrician, who has demonstrated an almost uncanny ability to do some supafast math at to calculate Toopweets’ medicine dosage. Had I not been a complete and utter hysterical mess at the time, I think I would’ve appreciated it more.
Anyway, I’m back. A little worse for the wear after that, but back nonetheless.
The trip, though short, was fantastic. Thanks again to all of you for your incredible suggestions, many of which I tried to squeeze in to our 2.5 days there. We stayed at The Venetian, which I HIGHLY recommend, for it is awesome. See? Pretty!
As I’d noted before, J was there on business, so I was on my own during the day.
One of my first intended stops was the The Bellagio, a gorgeous and fairly well-known hotel (thanks to such films as Ocean’s 11). I was pretty sure I’d be able to recognize it by the famous fountains, but I still asked a doorman at our hotel for directions. He specifically told me to head right. Which I did. For about two miles. Inasmuch as The Strip in pretty much a straight line, it’d be fairly difficult for someone to get lost. Needless to say, I managed. The doorman could’ve mixed up “left” and “right” (possible), or I could’ve stopped paying attention after he told me to make the first right (also highly possible). Either way, I soon realized that the classic and stately Bellagio was nowhere to be seen. Instead, I found this, and realized that perhaps I’d gone too far:
I subsequently noted that this particular area of The Strip was apparently “Things That Scare the Everloving Shit out of Metalia” Boulevard. To wit:
(I've said it before, and I'll say it again: I. Hate. Clowns.)
(Was anyone else horribly scarred by the Zoltar machine in Big? No? Just me, then?)
(These masks will haunt my dreams.)
I made it to a few of the less frightening hotels, and took pictures, like the total tourist that I was.
Hello, I am apparently the world's largest chocolate fountain. *Drool*
Also in news that matters to absolutely no one but me, the NARS counter in the Neiman Marcus there had in stock the lip gloss I have been scouring all of Manhattan to find (unsuccessfully, if that wasn’t abundantly clear). Woot! That night, we went to Tao, and I had a few drinks for the first time in 87 years. We subsequently won a bit of money at the casino. Double woot!
In Random World, I was sitting in the hotel lobby the afternoon we were departing, waiting for J, and happened to have been checking out what Chirky was up to. A girl passed by the table where I was seated, and doubled back. She stared at my laptop for a moment, professed her love for Chirky’s blog, and proceeded to walk off. I cannot blame her in the least, and I’ve already shared this with Chirky, but it was still a tad... um…crazy, is the word I’m looking for.
The trip was great, but I was a bit bummed that I didn’t see any famous people in Vegas. If TV and movies have taught me nothing else, I was bound to see a few actors there, or at the very least, Nicolas Cage.
Fortunately, fate saw to it that we spotted not one, but TWO celebrities in the airport on the way home. (Their similar last names are sheer coincidence.) First, we saw Molly Sims, and dude, she is incredibly hot. I forgot I was a heterosexual woman for a minute, is what I’m saying. She is also in possession of very shiny, pretty hair. Still reeling from her hotness, we then spied Phil Simms, who, while not hot, per se, had the effect of turning J, a lifelong New York Giants fan, into a giddy little boy. The excitement grew when we saw him take a seat by our gate, as that meant he’d be flying back to
Perhaps no one was excited as me, for reasons I shall soon explain. I can’t STAND flying; I hate everything about it, and it scares me to no end. I am so crazy on planes that when they have those delightful sudden drops in altitude, I involuntarily slam my right foot down, as if I AM BRAKING IN A CAR. Hello, I am insane. Consequently, my joy at seeing that Phil Simms was going to be on the plane was due to the fact that, as I told J, “A famous person is on our plane! Now nothing bad can happen!” For the first time, I relaxed as the plane took off. Of course, because I am a big old overthinker, I realized that there could just as easily be a newspaper headline reading, “Famous Football Player in Fiery Crash,” and began gripping the armrests in my usual fashion. Again, crazy. Obviously, though, the flight was fine, and Phil Simms? He likes his crossword puzzle books.
I was also singled out by security for a wholly embarrassing security check (of course!) and singlehandedly caused a total ticket machine mafunction (ditto!), but I think I'll save that for another day.
Tempted as I was to purchase this klassy shot glass (which, if you can’t make out the lettering, reads “I BLEW it in Vegas, featuring, uh…just look at their feet)...
...I restrained myself, and actually got you something useful. (Which, by the way, was really really difficult to find.) Lawyerish, email me your address, and it'll be on its way.
Finally, here is a token picture of me and J in Vegas inside our hotel...
...and a picture of Toopweets at rest. (You know he's sick because he's: (a) napping, and (b) doing so during the day.)