There are times when you have to be serious and times when you can be, well, goofy. We had a lot of serious. The Grand Canyon. The Hoover Dam. So, by the time we arrived in Vegas, we didn’t realize what time it really was. Silly time.
Amazingly enough, we returned our Sonata rental about as fast as it takes to order a Big Mac.
Now I want a Big Mac. Hold on. I’ll be back.
Ah. Mmmmm. Yum. So, as I was saying….
We returned the rental without any problems, but the taxi ride to our hotel wasn’t as easy or fun. We got in a taxi driven by an Ethiopian madman. Ok, I don’t really know if he was Ethiopian or mad, but he kept talking on his cell phone as he drove 100mph through traffic, weaving in and out, and even looking down at his phone to check texts. It was terrifying. I’m sure that’s all pretty much the driving style in Mogadishu, but in Vegas, well, it was a lot to take, especially with kids in the back seat.
But we arrived at Treasure Island without being killed in a fiery car crash, kidnapped, or taken out into the desert and murdered.
Now the TI is not one of the new, plush, luxury hotels. It’s a little dated, doesn’t have the best pool in Vegas and has even stopped doing their incredible pirate battle out front, but it had something important to me. It was cheap. And on the strip.
We checked in, dragged our bags upstairs and by the time we unpacked, we were all exhausted from the day. Hard to believe a day of driving can take it out of you, but it does.
So no wandering around in search of food. We’d eat at the hotel.
Now where to eat? There was a pizza place, but it was basically a counter with stools, and completely full. The frozen yogurt shop had room for us, but even I needed more than frozen yogurt for dinner, so we ended up at Senor Frogs.
But wait, isn’t that, like, a party bar/restaurant with tequila nights and bikini contests and drinking games? Well, yes, but at 6pm, not so much.
However, being overly tired, we slipped into a goofy mood the moment we sat down, even before the tequila arrived for the weary parents. The-Oldest noticed that they had signs on the ceiling, signs that had wise (or wisenheimer) sayings.
Things like, she may be hot, but somewhere there’s a guy who’s tired of her sh*t. Or if you can’t change your situation, change your attitude.
We had fun reading them, but how to explain the first one to a 13-year-old. Or a 9-year-old? It’s like when they ask what a sausage fest is because there’s movie called sausage fest.
I mean, do I lie and say it’s a movie about sausages? Yummy, tasty sausages? In the end, we muddled through the explanation since it wasn’t the most awkward question they’ve ever asked, and moved on to food as fast as we could.
We got lots of food, had silly balloon hats made for us, which we all wore, and had one of the best dinners so far. Not that we got what we ordered, oh, no, but that ended up being part of the fun. We’d order a milk and our very Latino waiter would bring a mountain dew. We’d ask for the bill and get more salsa chips (no charge, amigo, no charge.)
Did I care that I wore the silly balloon hat? No. I wore it with pride. So did the boys, even The-Oldest who is coming into that age where he is mortified of looking goofy (especially with his parents.) But in that moment, on that night, in that city, Vegas, we gave into our goofiness and had the best time.
Because, tomorrow, we do Vegas, baby!
Above, for your information, is The-Youngest’s first real use of the selfie-stick I bought for The-Prettiest-Girl-in-the-World’s birthday. He took a few pictures with it at the Grand Canyon and about 5000 when he tried to do a video and did burst shots for 10 min, but this is his best one.
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0 Replies to “Being Goofy in Vegas”
Can’t wait to read more of yourvVegas adventure!