There are moments you just know will stick with you forever. Often they’re bad but when they’re good, they’re very good. While in Whistler, I had both. But first, the good one.
We all had ideas of what we wanted to do in Whistler. Zip-lining. Jet-boating. And, of course, playing the piano.
To be fair, only one of us wanted the later, but The-Oldest very much wanted to find a piano in the open and play it. He’d found one is Osoyoos. It was placed out on the sidewalk with an invitation for anyone to play it.
Being brave, he played it, and much to his surprise got tipped nearly $20.
So, while in Whistler, he was determined to find another piano and entertain everyone, (and, you know, maybe collect some cash, too.)
We found one outside of the Arts Whistler Community Center. Painted brightly, it was a simple stand-up piano with a simple bench.
He sat down on the bench, hunched over the keys and began to play while we settled on comfortable benches to watch. Being slightly out of the way, there weren’t a lot of people coming by, but one family stopped and their little girl wanted to help The-Oldest out. She was enthralled with his playing and looked up in awe at The-Oldest like he was a god or like how I look at a donut.
It was cute. Super cute.
But then came along another girl who was in her, well, let’s say her early twenties. She stopped to listen, shaking her head at what The-Oldest pounded out on the keys.
“He’s amazing,” she said. “How long has he been playing?”
“18 months,” I said. “One day, he just sat down at the piano and began to play. His mom showed him the basics, but he soon zoomed past her and began to tackle Liszt and Greig and Rachmaninoff.”
“That’s incredible,” the girl said, listening to The-Oldest play. “I play the piano, too. And the guitar. And I compose.”
“That’s so cool,” I said. “He’s just begun composing. He works on it day and night.”
“He’s found his passion,” The-Prettiest-Girl-in-the-World said. “We have to drag him away to eat.”
The girl listened to The-Oldest longer. “He plays so beautifully,” she said, her eyes filling with tears. “That he’s found his passion so young in life, is… so beautiful.” Tears rolled down her cheeks.
His music, his story, had moved her.
Immediately, the Prettiest-Girl-in-the-World began to tear up as well. She comes from a teary people.
“He’s just incredible,” the girl said, wiping away her tears, then apologized for crying, but really, there was nothing to apologize for.
The-Oldest had moved his first fan to tears. Usually, I have to step on someone’s foot to do that or eat a bad burrito and expel noxious gas afterward, but he’d done it with the way he played. Fearlessly. Passionately. Beautifully.
By this time next week, we’ll be married and heading off to San Francisco for our honeymoon.
But are we ready?
Uh, lemme see.
All the RSVPs have been accounted for. We have a final list. We know who’ll be coming. That’s a good start.
Ring. Check. Wedding Dress, check (and apparently amazing.) Braces off. Flower-girl outfits and jewelry picked out. Wedding cake and sculpture decided upon. Photographer, flowers, wedding commissionaire, decorations, venue, all booked. Food sampled and chosen. Tuxes fitted. Marriage license purchased. Projector ordered. Music selected (a lot by The-Oldest). Honeymoon hotel reserved.
Whew, who knew it was so much work? The first time around, my mom and mother-in-law did it all, and I basically just showed up and smiled a lot. Now, we had to do it all ourselves, organizing, ordering, and researching everything to make sure this would be the best wedding possible. Hell, I even discovered that wedding porn has a different meaning for men and women.
But it’s finally coming together.
Only a few challenges.
After we finalized the guest list, we had to do up a seating chart. You know, for the tables and stuff. Not as easy as you might think since not everyone comes pre-packaged in groups of 8.
Oh, we could have had free seating but at this event, we didn’t want a mad mosh pit around the head table or everyone hiding in the back by the baron of beef. Of course, we could have also gone with the idea of who is most likely to NOT get along with who, but we decided to have a relatively fight-free wedding.
Being us, we wanted to make sure everyone has the most amazing time possible. And, being us, we decided to make an excel spreadsheet, a huge map and 18 tables cut from orange cardstock. Then we went about figuring it all out.
First, we worked on what combinations of people would be the best. Writers with writers. Victoria people with Victoria people. Davidsons with Davidsons. Bonars with Bonars. McKelvey’s with McKelveys. The same branch of family all stuffed together with liquor nearby.
That took care of about half the people. But that left half that we had to fit in.
We looked at putting people together with similar interests. We put together old acquaintances that might not have seen each other for a long time. We shifted people from one table to the next to balance out the numbers (I mean, hey, having 22 at a table for 8 wasn’t working. Not at all.)
And then, just like that, it all came together. Like a puzzle with all the pieces finally in place. The-Prettiest-Girl-in-the-World worked hard to create a seating masterpiece. Di Vinci, Michelangelo, or Martha Steward would have all been impressed.
But that left one big task. We had planned to have (spoiler alert, spoiler alert) books on every table. Books from our own library. Books that would mean something to the people seated there. AND books that would match our color scheme.
Now, for those who know me, know I have a pretty good library. But making all those things work on every table…Yikes!
We spent a slightly drunken evening hauling out books, taking off dust covers, matching up colors and sizes and specific books for specific tables.
It looked like Harry Potter had fought Voldemort in a library. Books were strewn everywhere. Small piles lay next to scattered individual books looking for a home. Dust jackets (The-Prettiest-Girl-in-the-World working in a library and all) were neatly stacked in one corner.
We hummed over who would get the coveted Game of Thrones book or the super funny Mindy Memoire. We found a place for an antique book of fables translated from German. We snuck in a travel book about the highlands into one pile. We desperately tried to find a table for the Princess Bride (and, in the end, decided to place that book, that most romantic book at our table, all by itself).
But in the end, despite us having to give up on our color scheme a bit, we found a nice stack for every table.
Now, we’re down to the last few things. Nails. Hair. Suit final-fitting. A speech by me. Slideshow created (oh, hell, I forgot to confirm the projector, yesterday!!!)
Can you guess what is stressing me out?
But I think it’ll be a good wedding. So many wonderful people are coming to see us exchange our vows, express out love, then drink and dance the night away.
This is happening, people!
And now for some Mike Tyson, cuz he’s the real wedding singer…
There were a lot of great moments on this trip. Big moments. Small moments. Funny moments. But here a few I might not have mentioned (or in desperate need of re-mentioning.)
Debating with The-Youngest whether or not the sky in the Venetian Hotel was real. He said, no and cited these facts: The Venetian sky was blue, but when we came in, it was night outside. None of the clouds moved. There were no birds in the sky. He could see where the paint had chipped off. He pointed to an access panel in the ‘sky’, like one Truman had seen in the Truman Show. I told him if he hadn’t seen that show, he’d be fine with the sky. Thank you very much, Jim Carey.
Watching The-Oldest follow the piano player’s every move at the Venetian. In later years, he might watch a stripper with such fascination or AI robots controlled by Skynet, but for that moment, that pianist was his world. That we actually found the musician in what I will now describe as ‘an epic quest’ was also a great memory, and I was so happy we could do something cool for The-Oldest who seemed always to be doing stuff other people wanted to do.
Wearing those silly balloon hats in Senor Frogs. Now, this may not be a cool moment for everyone, but I tend to be too serious sometimes or too concerned about what other people think, but on that night, I proudly wore my balloons and didn’t care what anyone thought. PS, I was also a little drunk.
Having The-Oldest vow to pull a different face for every picture we took of him. He pretty much succeeded, though I think we caught him genuinely smiling, once.
Becoming an honorary Avenger. Or a member of the Scientific Training and Tactical Intelligence Operative Network. (Don’t judge me.) I know I wrote a whole blog about this, but whatever, it was totally fun, and I’d do it, again. Only next time, I might wear my Captain American pajamas.
Seeing the Grand Canyon, again. For all the lights of Vegas, for all the concrete used to make the Hoover Dam, looking upon such a great natural wonder should be on everyone’s bucket list.
Getting the nerve up to take a picture of the bikers in Flagstaff. Sure they were French, and with their girlfriends, but had that gone wrong, I would have found out how good the trauma care is in the States or hoped that at least someone would get time for beating me to death.
Watching The-Prettiest-Girl-in-the-World laugh and play with her children. Her love for them is beyond measure, and the happiness they bring her is beyond value.
I kind-of actually understood the Cirque du Soleil – Beatles show. I mean, who really understands these things? But I got closer than I ever did before. Plus, the show made me cry. I can’t explain why it would, but something in the way they moved…
The last walk on the last day. Night time. Full-on Vegas. I loved the smells, the sounds, the sights, the crowds, the energy, the colors, the odd-ball loonies… everything. That was my Vegas. Wild Vegas. Untamed. Sure the kids may be in therapy for years over that short walk from the Bellagio Fountains to the Venetian, but listening to the street preacher preach about sin or pushing our way through a mob of Hangover doubles is something you just can’t experience in Vancouver.
Oh, you know what, there’s really 11.
The last highlight was getting to spend so much time with the boyz and The-Prettiest-Girl-in-the-World. Seeing Vegas, alone, had no great appeal for me. Ditto with the Grand Canyon. Or the Hoover Dam.
Experiencing it with them, though… priceless.
I am one lucky SOB.
And that concludes our epic adventure down south. But wait, isn’t there a wedding coming up?
As with any trip, the real goal is not to see new places, have fun or expand your mind with amazing experiences. No, it’s to come home and analyze what happened and make plans to improve the next outing.
Never, ever bring kids to Vegas. Ha, just kidding. But if you want to go to see the fountains at Bellagio or visit Fremont Street at night, then cab it. Avoid the massive crowds which can be full of scary people, stupid ass drunks and Chewbaccas. As much as I enjoyed those things, it’s simply not a good idea for anyone with kids.
Think twice about believing the kids will enjoy looking at the stunning architecture in many of the hotels. It’s like dragging a dog into the vets to get its shots. I mean, I get it, no one’s going to be blown away by the inside of Treasure Island, but I was surprised they didn’t much care for the interior of Mandalay Bay, NY, NY, or even the Venetian. The Venetian!!! Venice. Italy at its faux-finest! Sigh. *cancels next year’s trip to Europe*.
In Vegas, bring water. Same for the Grand Canyon. Buy it in a cheap grocery store. Stock up. It’s ok. But that heat will take it out of you in a big way.
Try Uber. We didn’t, but I wish we had. On the other hand, no one drove us to a warehouse and dismembered us with chainsaws, either.
Find cheaper ways to eat. We found that if you ate from the concession store, you saved about $100 for breakfast. (We bought cereal and milk there.) There are cheap places to eat, like Denny’s or even McDs, but you have to get out of most hotels to find them. Sure, they may not have gourmet food, but I tell ya, what’s going to make you sicker, a grand slam breakfast or paying $150 for 4 for pancakes in a hotel restaurant?
Bring headache pain meds. Double check that you have them. Triple check. Cuz, if you have to go looking for them while you have a blinding migraine… yeah, no fun at all. Also, bring something for upset stomachs. Those meds are easy to find in Vegas when someone eats too many Jolly Ranchers. Oh, hell, with kids, just remember to pack the medicine cabinet.
Wash your hands a lot. Bring wipies or that disinfecting gel, especially when you have someone who either touches everything in sight or puts his fingers in his eyes a lot.(Can you guess which one applies to me and which one applies to The-Youngest?)
Talk to people more. By and large, Americans are very friendly people and some of the best times we had were when we chatted with people in line or in a cab or while eating at Denny’s. This is really a ‘me’ thing since The-Prettiest-Girl-in-the-World actually loves to chat with people. It’s me and my grumpy demeanor and toxic glares. But next vacation, I’ll try to be more outgoing. “You’d love to chat with me about a time share? Well, wow, lead the way my good man.”
Remember that when The-Oldest says he’d kinda, maybe, you know, almost like to do ‘something’, but it’s not important, then he’s actually saying, hey, it is totally important and would make a great experience for him. Sometimes I think we need a universal translator not for Chinese to English, but for teenagese to parent.
Traveling without a rigid, confining schedule does not, in fact, kill me. “Playing it by ear” can work, even if it makes my eye twitch. A lot.
However, this time around, I am proud to announce we did learn from past excursions. We knew doing stuff with kids takes longer. We knew to pack extras of pretty much everything since things go missing, accidents happen or things get spilled on other things. We had stuff for them to do on long journeys. We made sure to include them in the planning process (though The-Youngest’s list of 100 things he HAD to do made us think we may have to keep him to a top 10 list.) We took time to take lots of pictures. And we tried our best to make sure EVERYONE had a good time (like The-Youngest in the Hershey store, me at the Hoover Dam, The-Prettiest-Girl-in-the-World in the fashion mall, and The-Oldest listening to a piano virtuoso.)
So, our trip is done, the boyz are back in school, and it’s time for a recap of our trip to Vegas. And what better way than the 1st of 4 top 10 lists.
Top 10 Quotes From The-Oldest
“I am providing the laugh track.” After he laughed, and I commented that he doesn’t often laugh at a lot of my super funny jokes.
“The smell just comes at my face.” It was the smell of Vegas after the rains came. A wet, kind of sulphuric, moldy smell.
“He’s the Beeth.” Now this means, ‘he’s the best.’ ‘The most amazing.’ It comes from his favourite composer, Beethoven. I have no idea how it got morphed into ‘beeth.”
“Coffee tastes like black.” Yes, yes it does.
His new word of the trip – “Danger noodles.” For snakes. I think this one will catch on.
The Grand Canyon “has been touched more by cameras than by humans.” Wow, I mean, wow. That’s actually deep.
“Girls? What girls? There were girls? Looking at me? What? Where? When? What?” After I told him about the incident in Dunkin Donuts where 2 girls checked him out.
Every morning in our hotel room, he’d write a quote on the foggy bathroom mirror to his brother. My favourite… “Will you become Luigi?” It meant, will his brother get taller than him. See, ‘cuz Luigi, from Mario Brothers, is taller than his older brother. Yeah, I didn’t get it until he explained it to me.
“I am funny. I had meat.” After I told him he was on fire one night for all the funnyisms.
Then the words that may define him. “I’ve found my passion, Joe. Music. It’s what’s in me.” How cool is that? It brought manly tears to my eyes.
I know there were more, but being old and forgetting things, these were the best that I could recall. When did he become such a funny guy? A deep thinker? Or has it always been that way and he’s just becoming more comfortable belting it out so I can hear him.
Either way, he’s an astounding cool guy.
Next up, the best things to do in Vegas with Kids. In my opinion.
Vegas, like a good drunken uncle, always seems to have a surprise or two in store.
When we first arrived, our first surprise was not a new hotel, but seeing the ruins of an iconic hotel, the Riviera, torn down to make room for another, fancier hotel. That’s Vegas. Ever changing. You never know what you’re going to see. Or who.
So it was fitting that when we went to leave, the taxi guy who took us to the airport was one of the best surprises we had. Our arrival driver was a disaster, nearly killing us at least 10 times (which, to be fair, was a surprise as well.)
This driver, though… he was special. He looked like an old boxer, strong jaw, thick stubble on his cheeks, black hair going salty grey. His nose had been broken a good number of times, but that only seemed to add to his character. His eyes, once probably a deep brown, now looked worn, like they had been left out in the sun too long.
But it turns out this guy used to be Poncho’s stunt double. Wait, you must remember Poncho? Eric Estrada? CHIPs? The guy with the whitest teeth in Hollywood and the best feathered-hair of his generation?
In his day, he was quite the thing. Even The-Prettiest-Girl-in-the-World had a poster of him, I think. But when CHIPs died, his career disappeared, mostly, and I don’t think he took it well.
After listening to our driver, we mentioned that we heard Eric Estrada had become a cop, and the taxi driver snorted. He said that guy would never have passed the interview process. Or the drug tests. Or anything that cops would have to pass. So, it was likely an honorary title, which totally makes sense since he’s like 80 now.
We had the best talk with him. He’s the kind of guy you’d meet in a bar and he’d be all too keen to tell you his life’s story. He was Eric Estrada’s stunt double for 5 years, and it took a toll on him. He wore every fall, every fight scene, every moment he got tossed out a window or slid on the pavement after a motorcycle crash.
Oh, the stories he could tell! But, sadly, we didn’t have time to hear everything. What we heard was entertaining, and a little sad. Like most people, our driver had gone to Hollywood to seek fame and fortune and returned, broken in spirit, (and I suspect, in body), to his hometown, where he eventually met us, probably one of the great highlights of his life.
He dropped us off, I tipped him well for his stories about stunting, then we went inside. Only to find that the ticket we had, the one that said, “United” on it, was, in fact, for Air Canada and Air Canada was on the other end of the airport.
At least, this time, we didn’t declare that we had guns, ammo and the black plague hidden in a banana.
Then the most unlikely thing happened as we waited in line to board the plane. A pretty girl talked to me. Now, this happens, like, never, except for The-Prettiest-Girl-in-the-World who, for some reason, seems to like me.
But the girl said she loved my hat, a blue fedora-like thing. I thought I looked great in the hat and was constantly surprised that no one had come up to me before to tell me that. But that got us talking about our experiences in Vegas and what we liked and hated, and if we could go back, again.
I would, for sure. She said she was done with Vegas for a while.
But, as we found our seats and she went off to hers, I thought, you can never really do Vegas. You just never know what’s going to happen. Ask The-Oldest. He was attacked by Chewbacca. Ask The-Youngest, he found his future wife. Ask The-Prettiest-Girl-in-the-World, she got to talk to Eric Estrada’s double.
And for me, it’ll be another completely different experience when we return for The-Youngest’s 21st birthday. Or our 25th Anniversary. Or for The-Oldest’s wedding.
This time, though, what made it so great, apart from all that we did, all that we saw or heard… this was a great trip because I got to do it with my new family.
And now it’s time to return to a normal life back home. However, there are 4 top 10 lists still to go. Stay tuned. 🙂
If I was a better person, a more organized person, a person who thought about things before he went to bed instead of at 5am, getting up and out early in the morning would be easy.
But I’m not there, yet. Not by a long shot.
So this is what its like when I get up before the rest of the family and sneak out of the hotel room so I can do some writing.
First of all, I rarely wake up to an alarm these days. At some point in the morning, my body and brain collude and decide to wake me up. Or I need to pee really bad because I’m getting older and weird things are happening to my bladder.
At home, it’s a pretty simple matter to leave, go write or watch TV or read about the latest sales on Amazon. But in a hotel room, I have a lot more to do and there are a LOT more pitfalls.
See, my goal is to get out without waking anyone else up.
Not so easy.
First, I have to go to the bathroom and that means making my way over and around the suitcases, shoes and random bags that the boys have moved at some point during the day. On a great day, I remembered to charge my phone so I can use that little light the phone gives off when you turn it on.
But not today.
Oh, I actually remembered to plug it in, but for some reason, it didn’t charge. Maybe it came loose at night. Maybe I sleep-watched all the episodes of Supernatural. Maybe the phone faerie came and unhooked me because I didn’t make the proper sacrifice.
Either way, I have to make my way in the dark like a chubby ninja or Kung Fu Panda with my phone cords in my chubby fingers, cuz I have a plan.
The other phone cords lie in wait like trip wires in Nam. I inch forward. Literally. Inch. Forward. Ah, there’s a cord. My toe feels a shoe. I stub my small toe on the corner of a suitcase I didn’t see, and somehow manage not to swear.
Amazingly, I make it to the distant bathroom without waking anyone. I plug in my phone to get a quick charge.
Then, completing my task, I make my way back through the minefield of discarded family items. I find my shoes. I remember where I left them. I pad back to the center of the room, pull socks from the drawer. Beside the drawer is my suitcase. For some stupid reason, I zipped it up. With agonizing slowness, I unzip it with the care normally reserved for the bomb squad debombing a bomb.
No one wakes up.
I get shirt and shorts. I put them on with the dexterity of a cirque du soliel acrobat. Lacking any real dexterity, though, there is a great risk I’ll snag one foot in the legs of my shorts and stumble fall right on top of The-Youngest.
But I don’t fall and I am no longer likely to walk outside of the hotel room in my underwear. At 5am, this is not always a given.
Next up, where the f*** did I put the room key? And my wallet?
Back to the bathroom to retrieve the phone. It’s had about 15 minutes to charge and that’s good enough to give me a distant star’s equivalent of light.
No one’s woken up.
The light lasts for, like, 5 seconds, so I have to be fast each time I use it. I find my wallet, it’s on the bedside table. The-Prettiest-Girl-In-The-World has her charging cord wrapped around it and the boys have booby-trapped it with bags of candy.
For the morning ninja, though, this is child’s play. Like Indie Jones, I take the wallet and leave the bag of candy behind. Then I gather up the laptop cord which has somehow managed to wrap itself around the ice bucket, all the remaining phone cords and our half-drunk bottle of water that should have been put back in the fridge.
I make only a few sounds. No one wakes up.
Then the big one. I have to unlock the safe and haul out the laptop which barely fits in there. During the day, I usually swear and bang it about a lot while getting the damn thing in or out.
So, yeah, I can’t do that.
I pad over to the safe. Slide open the door. The light comes on for the closet. Automatically.
Dammit. Light can wake everyone up as surely as a loud fart.
I hold my breath. I listen.
The-Youngest is muttering something about wanting to go in something. A ride? The pool? I dunno. The-Oldest is breathing heavily. Asleep. The-Prettiest-Girl-In-the-World moans softly and I hear her turn over. It could be that I’ve woken her up as she has momma-senses, but if I did, she’s gone back to sleep.
And I’m in luck. I don’t have to remember the code or punch it in. The safe’s been left open. I ease the laptop out like I’m hauling the thigh bone out of the body in Operation.
Then it’s only a matter of finding my back-pack, putting on my shoes and socks, stuffing my laptop in the bag and getting out the door.
The door is the hardest of the entire ninja operation. I don’t know how they would do it, (likely they’d not use the door, but cut a hole in the window and use their fingers to climb down the sheer wall of the hotel), but I have only one choice. Turn the handle quietly. Ignore the loud click when the locks come unlocked and keep going, pulling the handle down all the way until the door opens.
Then get out. Close the door.
Go to the nearest Starbucks and write.
Simple. It only took me 37 minutes.
But will I get the coveted ‘I didn’t hear you leave?”
Only time will tell.
Thanks to everyone who’s read my posts, followed the blog or just looked at the pictures. We’re almost done. One more post and then you can return to your lives.
Saturday. Last day. We had to do what’s left quick-like. Fast and furious. Dolphins at Mirage, take local transit, see Luxor, Excalibur, and sharks at Mandalay Bay, eat at some point, take bus to Fremont Street, try not to get pick-pocketed, find way back to hotel, eat supper, see Bellagio fountains and find a legendary pianist at Venetian for The-Oldest to watch.
So, here’s fast and furious travel. In 2 parts.
Up at 6. Went for coffee. Nuts in Starbucks. The weekend had arrived. Fed family from Starbucks and supplies bought at gift shop. Everyone dressed, showered, shaved, as needed, and we were out of the door by 11. Took tram to Mirage. Went to see dolphins there.
Seeing dolphins cost $22 a person. Are you nuts? For that price, I would expect to swim with them and have a happy ending afterward. Had an attack of cheap. Couldn’t pay that money to see dolphins. Headed to the far end of the strip.
Decided to take bus. Lots to see today, so bus made sense.
Couldn’t buy bus-pass at bus stop. Had to buy on the bus.
Became that guy who holds up 20 people trying to get on the bus while having to sort out how to get a ticket, then get the money for that ticket. Had to have exact change. $32. Of course. Didn’t have exact change. No, no credit cards. No NY NY arcade tokens. No balls of Canadian lint.
Had to get Prettiest-Girl-in-the-World to empty her purse to find the money. Stole coins from the boyz. Debated asking riders for money. Finally found enough. Finally paid. Took about 4 minutes or in bus time, 10 years. Ignored evil stares from passengers. Driver totally chill though.
Went up to top of the double-decker bus. Hunkered down. Made no eye contact. Pretended to check phone. Unpuckered sphincter.
Got front seats as soon as people got off at the next stop. Boyz happy. Like a tour. Decided not to stop at Excalibur. Or Luxor. I mean why, really? One’s a pyramid filled with slot machines and the other’s a castle filled with slot machines.
So with time restrictions and being a little Vegas’d out, we went on.
Mandalay bay. Never been. Nice entrance from the sidewalk, lots of water features. Open concept. Loved it. Huge, huge walkways through the casino. I mean you could actually walk four abreast and pass by other people walking 4 abreast. Yes, lots of breasts there.
The-Prettiest-Girl-in-the-World spotted a wall display of boobs and bums. Covered her boyz eyes with her hands. Deeply ashamed I did not spot that display. May have to surrender my guy-card when I get back.
Failed to find the food court. Ate HUGE hamburger at expensive restaurant. Super yummy, but $$$$. Oddly, they stewed four tomatoes in The-Prettiest-Girl-in-the-World’s salad. Who does that? Is that a fancy thing?
Youngest had a meltdown after learning he left his hat on the bus. I was more surprised this hadn’t happened earlier.
Went to see the shark reef exhibit. Saw a croc up close. Freaky eyes. Saw piranha. Learned they are lazy hunters. Wouldn’t eat me alive. Kinda disappointed. Next I’ll find out that Raptors liked to cuddle.
The-Youngest wanted to touch a ray. Took half an hour before he touched one. Kinda scary, you know. He met a nice girl there. His age. They exchanged vital ray facts. She had no fear touching the rays. He eventually got up the nerve. Said they were really slimy.
We decided to choose the wives for our boys. More on that at a later date.
Sharks were cool. LOTS of sharks in the final tank. Both boyz uber excited about them.
I spent more time watching the turtle swimming around. Not the sleekest, not the meanest, not the sexiest, just kinda doing his own thing in a very dangerous world.
I am a turtle.
Watched sharks glide over us from a glass tunnel. Watched sharks slide under us on a glass floor. Watched sharks slip around an old sunken-ship in the tank. Watched a school of Dora fish. Wondered how they survived in such a tank.
I suddenly wanted some fish and chips.
But no time. Left for the bus.
The-Youngest was thanked for holding the door. He liked being a doorman. Lots of people smiled at him. Many, but not all, thanked him. Many more took advantage of his skill and often family after family poured in like they expected a cute 9-year-old boy to hold the door for them. No looks. No thanks.
I said we’d give him a cup and with his looks and great manners, he could afford a new house by the end of the week.
He said, no, but I think he loved the attention he got.
Feeling pretty tired after sharks. A week of running around gets to an old guy like me. Had a blister the size of a baby’s head on my little toe. Grossed out The-Prettiest-Girl-in-the-World. The youngest wanted to watch me pop it. Made walking a bit harder.
Off to Fremont Street on fast bus. Had to stand in the sun for bus. The-Prettiest-Girl-in-the-World not impressed with my earlier statement, hey, we won’t need sunscreen, we’ll either be in a bus or a hotel.
All of us got a bit of a burn.
Fast bus zipped by a lot of stops. Hey, it’s the fast bus. It’s what they do. Saw a crazy convoy of cars painted the same. Like 20 cars. Took a picture.
Drove through a different part of Vegas. The dark underbelly, away from all the lights and glitter. The poorer part.
Saw lots of bail bondsmen. Saw a Coke machine with reinforced bars protecting it. Saw ruined buildings covered in graffiti. Saw fortified convenience stores. Didn’t take a picture.
Kept an eye on stops. Didn’t want to miss our stop and end up on a crack street.
Began to worry for the first time since we’d arrived in the US.
No question about it, the Cirque du Soleil folks can put on a fine show. I’d seen one every time I went to Vegas, but this one was a little different. This one had a musical theme. The Beatles.
Now who doesn’t love the Beatles?
So I was keen to see what they would do with their usual contortionists, flying acrobats, odd-looking clowns and gymnasts leaping around. The-Oldest couldn’t wait to see it. He’d seen one Cirque show in Vancouver and loved it, so combining that style of performance with music that he loved could be amazing.
Or he could be massively disappointed as he set his sights too high, like I did for the new Star Wars movie. Or for democracy.
We’d bought tickets more towards the back. Deliberately. Being me, I read a ton of reviews, and the general consensus was that the new Star Wars movie wasn’t that great and that we should sit in the back if we wanted to see EVERYTHING in the Beatles – Love. If we wanted to be a part of the show, then closer to the front was the way to go. Every seat was great, I’d read, so why not go with what would be the best for us?
I mean, hey, spooky-ass clowns poking children or whatever else the Cirque people decided to throw at the keeners who sat at the front might be a bit much for the-Youngest, so for us, farther away was better.
We made our way to the Mirage and waited for them to open up the theater. While we waited, the-Oldest ran through a litany of Beatles songs he thought they might play. His top 10. We made our own list. I may post this ‘cuz I know people are just dying to read about more lists.
Then we went in.
In the end, the show was spectacular. We’d done well by choosing the back since they covered most of the front seats with a huge, billowing sheet for one song (which looked awesome, but would have scared the poop out of the-Youngest.) As well, they had a performer dressed up as a spooky-ass monkey (instead of a clown), who picked bugs out of people’s hair.
That would have terrified The-Youngest. And me.
So, here is the top 10 list of why the Beatles- Love was amazing.
1) For me, the music brought back so many great memories. I grew up listening to their music. I owned their albums. I can sing (badly) most of their songs.
2) I loved what they did with the billowing sheet, shining lights on it and making it seem like a moving ocean. And yes, there is a video below of that. Spectacular! How does someone think this up???
3) The set they did with undersea gardens looked amazing. Floating octopi. Kelp trees. Bubbles. So awesome. I wanted to be in that octopuses garden with them.
4) I love seeing what human beings can do. Skilled, acrobatic ones. Not chubby, Captain-America-loving ones like me. Even the simplest of things for Cirque performers like climbing up a rope (which always made me feel funny in my naughty area) is done with such grace and beauty, that I can’t help but be amazed.
5) We watched a man seemingly dance in slow motion, using a cart with a ladder on the end. it’s hard to explain, so there’s a video at the bottom. The strength and balance that takes is so far beyond me that I may as well be that monkey picking bugs from the audience’s hair.
6) Lucy soared in the sky with diamonds. Words simply fail me to describe it. It was magical.
7) A VW bug slowly exploded into pieces during one of the songs, the pieces held by the performers. (again, you can see this below.) It worked because I love seeing things kind of blow up, I didn’t see it coming, and it looked like poetry would look if poetry could be visual.
8) The stunning visuals and song “While My Guitar Gently Weeps”, made me cry. Yes, I cried. Don’t judge me. If a guitar can weep, so can I.
9) There were even a few times when the leaping acrobats missed their marks, landing not on top of the roof of a car, but on its side and then having to scramble up. But hell, they even made that look good.
10) Having the-Oldest smile with unrestrained joy made it worth the expense ten times over.
So, my review… see it. It’s worth the money. It’s worth the time. It’ll leave you singing Beatles songs and talking about the most amazing feats you saw.
The-Oldest gave it a complete 10/10. He would see it, again. Happily.
The-Youngest agreed it was fantastic, but he says stick to the back of the theater. That monkey is the stuff of nightmares.
And The-Prettiest-Girl-in-the-World sat either transfixed by all the grace and beauty or was moved to tears by the music. 10/10 for her. Maybe 11/10 because it made her oldest so happy.
Could you ask for a better show?
My apologies for the ads, but since I couldn’t record this myself, I had to look to youtube
I have to have a plan. I still can’t quite play it totally “by ear.” It may be something I need to work on in therapy. Or after a bottle of wine.
But today’s plan? An adventure for me, (I would have said, “an adventure for the boyz”, but the truth was, it was for me, me, me and me.) An adventure for The-Prettiest-Girl-in-the-World. And an epic adventure for The-Oldest. Since yesterday was pretty much a whole day for The-Youngest, the rest of us would get something special today.
On the agenda, a visit to the fashion mall. Take the Avengers Tour. See Cirque du Soleil’s Beatles Love.
Can you guess which experience belonged to which person?
Luckily, The-Prettiest-Girl-in-the-World felt good, today, her migraine mostly, but not completely, gone. We began by marching out into the sunny… wait, what, cloudy??? Day. The air smelled of smoke from a fire off to the west. My eyes burned. The-Oldest sneezed a lot, though he was pretty sure it was not because of the smoke, but because of the light???? Apparently being allergic to light is a thing.
At least according to the internet.
Not a lot of people up at 11am, not many in the mall. Shamefully, we ate breakfast at the food court and I devoured about 3000 calories in a crape so stuffed with whipped cream, they burned out an entire can on it. (BUT, also inside, there were 3 banana slices, so, yeah, it was totally healthy, too!)
While we ate, The-Prettiest-Girl-in-the-World kept glancing towards the mall, towards all those shoe stores and purse stores and clothing stores … with a lean and hungry look like a praying mantis.
No, ah, not praying mantis? How about an octopus? No??? Ok, how about a beautiful lioness? Ok, that’s the one, then. …with a lean and hungry look like a beautiful lioness.
But what would the boyz do in a fashion mall, you ask?
Well, there was a Lego store, a video games store and The-Youngest had decided he needed a pair of headphones – ones that he could afford, that would have professional, studio-quality sound, and ones that had super comfy padding so his ears would be, you know, super comfortable. He set his price limit at about $20. I set the possibility of finding one at about 0, especially with no Best Buys or Walmarts in this mall.
So as soon as we were all done breakfast, The-Prettiest-Girl-in-the-World roared off. I won’t say she ran, but, you know, she didn’t saunter to the stores, either.
We boyz meandered around, vaguely heading towards the gaming and Lego stores, looking at the people, at the displays set up and at the other stores, no matter how mundane,
When we found the gaming store, we looked at every game there. Literally. Every. Game.
We even looked at a few twice. Plus, The-Youngest touched everything at least once and I’m pretty sure he fondled the headphones there more than 30 times, (but didn’t buy any, cuz, “Joe, did you know that these are gaming headphones? They have mics and I don’t need a mic.”)
Then we went to the Lego store and found that they have a nifty new screen that detects your box and then animates the Lego for you. So, lemme esplain. The screen reads the picture on the box, say a tie fighter, then an animated tie fighter appears on your box and zooms around and shoots things.
It was dead cool.
The-Youngest tried every box in the store, I think. All the while, the-Oldest began to build his most epic racer from old Lego parts. See, they have a neat box that you can build lego the way I used to build Lego. No instructions. No tie fighters (sadly). Just blocks and wheels.
After about 40 hours, The-Youngest grew bored with getting boxes and watching the animated lego pictures, and began to build his own super racer. It was about a foot long. The-Oldset built a wide, heavy, four-wheeled racer with a jet engine on the back. The-Youngest built, ah, something like a truck. Or a snake with wheels, I’m really not sure.
Then they raced. If they started nose to nose, The-Oldest won. Hands down. But!!! If you started butt to butt, then the shear length of The-Youngest’s extra long hauler could squeak out a victory.
Honestly, I don’t know how long we were in there, but that’s the cool thing about the Lego store. They just let you play if you want.
When we left, I texted The-Prettiest-Girl-in-the-World. She was still in the first store. Zara. Right beside the food court.
I had to laugh.
But she was having fun, so we went in search of headphones, trying all the major stores and even the booths. Remind me never to approach a booth. The-Youngest shot off to one and I nearly had to punch the person to get away. Think of it as having to get rid of a leech. Fire is the best method, but lacking even a lighter, I had to say, no, we aren’t interested about 8 times as we walked farther and farther away, the seller trailing us like a Turkish Rug hawker.
Having looked through the ENTIRE mall, I texted The-Prettiest-Girl-in-the-World and she had found a great store that carried the pants she LOVED.
“Better you boyz head off to the Avengers,” she said. At least that’s what I heard. Could be she said, why don’t you come bra shopping with me, but whatever, we went back to the hotel to do something I wanted to do.
It was likely this would be the last event of the day. – Our ride on the High Roller Ferris wheel.
At a certain point, The-Prettiest-Girl-in-the-World would have to call it quits. Her migraine wasn’t going away. I worried that this ‘ride’ might be too much for her.
Now the High Roller is like a party room on a big wheel. The-Youngest declared that he would have his 21st birthday in it. And rent a limo. And shoot some guns. And buy all the candy he wants because he’ll be able to do what he wants then.
But at 3pm, there really wasn’t much partying going on. I can imagine that at night, the view is spectacular with Vegas lit up with bright neon and it would be a great place to have some drinks with friends. Maybe a lot of drinks.
At 3pm, there’s no lines, either. So we sailed right in to one of our gondolas. Beneath us, the flood waters raged down a street and into a parking garage. Above us, the sun shone. Inside with us was a family of Russians. Mom. Pretty girl, handsome boy, expensive clothes and shoes. Husband probably has neck tattoo and gold teeth.
The girl was so pretty that even The-Oldest noticed her. She was his age, give or take a year. Didn’t stop him from being his awesome, funny, self, posing like a model for pictures, though. I hope he never loses that goofy, fun side of himself.
I offered to a to use their phone to take a picture of them, since, (unlike us) they didn’t have an awesome selfie-stick. They thanked me, but didn’t return the favour.
Despite going super high, the heights didn’t bother me at all. However, the High Roller had a ladder that made me dizzy looking at it. Fear of heights not bad, but that ladder, it had to follow the curve of the structure so at some point, you’d be climbing it at a backwards 60 degree angle! Yikes.
It was a lovely ride and The-Prettiest-Girl-in-the-World held out super well, even posing for one of the best pictures we’ve ever taken of the family.The views were fantastic, and while it’s not free, I think it’s totally worth the price, especially if you get a discount coupon online.
Flood stopped taxis from getting to the nearest hotel. Had to march around to the front to try to find one.
Didn’t find one.
Marched to Caesars, then the Mirage, then took their tram to our hotel. Had to ask since there were no directions for tram. Ended up being the completely opposite end of the hotel, where we had basically come in.
Each step agony for The-Prettiest-Girl-in-the-World.
When we got back, she needed to go to bed and since The-Youngest can’t remain quiet for more than 2 seconds, and we couldn’t plug him in due to no internet, we went downstairs, ate pizza and they got even more lectures on the pitfalls of gambling.
See, this is something we didn’t expect. We hadn’t prepared for this. Phones didn’t have much of a charge left. So, no games. We actually had to talk.
Had a great chat with The-Oldest about what makes great music. Had a great chat with The-Youngest about if you’re going to eat two Jolly Ranchers at once, was it better to have them the same flavour or mix it up, though Joe, did you know, you have to be careful about what flavours you mix?
Ate frozen yogurt after the pizza and talked more. I even got to talk a little bit about life and choices and the girl in the gondola.
Then we explored the entire hotel. We found the Avengers exhibit. Found a hot dog restaurant! The-Youngest did a running play-by-play of a horse race. Found more bathrooms. The-Youngest declared that his favourite game would be keno. And he knew how to win. Even though he didn’t know how to play.
We looked at all the shops, decided not to buy a purse for any of us, went to the pool and saw it was filled with 20 somethings yelling and partying, checked out every little hallway and passage that didn’t have a sign that said ‘employees only.’
Honestly, it was a lot of fun. I love exploring and exploring with the boys just made it a billion times better. The-Youngest is always full of questions like ‘why is that man lying facedown on the slot machine or what is that on the floor or how many beers can you carry, Joe?
Came back about 8. Simply ran out of things to do. No games to buy. And I wasn’t going to teach The-Youngest to play poker or 21.
The-Prettiest-Girl-in-the-World felt a bit better, but still needed sleep, so we all went to bed, early and dreamed of what was to come tomorrow.
A pouring rain came to Vegas. And, being in a desert, Vegas has a problem with rain.
5 problems, actually.
First, people don’t know what to do. I mean, in Vegas, even Vancouverites don’t have an umbrella packed away in their backpacks. No one has jackets. No one’s prepared. So mostly they stand in the hotel doorways looking up and muttering, boy, it’s raining outside.
Second, traffic becomes a nightmare. I’m honestly not sure why it suddenly becomes worse. Maybe people are looking up instead of driving. Maybe they’re worried about the slippery roads. Or maybe Vegas cars have a reaction to the rain and automatically slow down.
But we didn’t mind. I even took a picture of The-Youngest in the rain, right by the Hershey store sign. He was not happy, but at his age, he can’t tell me to go f*ck myself like The-Prettiest-Girl-in-the-world would.
Running out of time to get all our sights seen, we made a mad dash across the bridge from NY, NY to MGM Grand to see the other candy store, (M&Ms) and check out the Coke store. The M&Ms seemed bigger. Hell, they even had a car in it, and The-Youngest found about 200 things to buy.
He found cups with his name on it, key chains with his name on it, license plates with his name on it. It thrilled him to know people thought about him and wanted to put his name on things. Me, it’s why I’ll always try places like Original Joe’s, Joe’s Lube and Oil, or Joe’s Sexy Lingerie Shop.
The-Youngest drooled over slot machine-like dispensers. A toy jeep with M&Ms storage in the back, toy helicopters with a bomb bay full of M&Ms, animal dispensers, you name it, they had a way of dispensing M&Ms from it.
I think there should be a contest. What’s the rudest thing you can invent that dispenses M&Ms? Have at it.
Luckily, The-Prettiest-Girl-in-the-Wold found an M&Ms dispenser that looked like a pencil and didn’t cost as much as a smart car. Not that he was spending our money on any of these things, he was using his own hard-earned pooch-poo-picking-up-cash, but we still wanted to make sure he had some cash for stuff he’d invariably want in 10 min. Or one day.
The Coke store was a bust, though. The-Youngest wouldn’t go in. Big bear outside. The stuff of nightmares. I don’t think any of us were really disappointed.
Outside, it continued to rain. I loved it. That wet, hot-water smell tinged with dust. The lack of smog in the air. The way the cars sounded slicing through the rivers that began to form on the roads…
The-Prettiest-Girl-in-the-World’s migraine began to become debilitating. But she kept up her good cheer and wanted to go on, just not in the pouring rain, so we stayed indoors, found pants in Marshalls and the most awesome shirt for The-Oldest that made him look super handsome.
The youngest kept hugging his new super soft Jolly Rancher pillow like he’d found his best friend.
When the rain stopped, we ventured out. We had planned to take a bus or a cab to our next location and that’s when we hit the third way that Vegas has a problem with rain.
No cabs. Everyone is taking one. And with no rain, all those people who had been inside, decided to go outside. Just like us. The sidewalks were crowded with hundreds of people, all of them super annoying. The Russian gangster wannabes with their mirrored sunglasses and girlfriends in super-short, shorts. The zombies walking so slow they were almost moving backwards. The hawkers trying to give your kid a card for free cocaine or something.
And while walking, we ran into the forth thing that is a problem when Vegas rains. When the sun comes back out, that lovely, dry heat turns into something muggy and humid. Something sauna-like.
It made The-Prettiest-Girl-in-the-World’s migraine so bad that if we wanted to get to our next location, the famed High Roller roller coaster, then we would have to cab it.
It took a while to find one, but we finally found a grumpy cabby who looked like Ted Nugent after a hard night of partying and smelled like he’d slept inside a cigarette carton. (Not the best when all smells make The-Prettiest-Girl-in-the-World sicker.)
Then we came upon the last and final reason why Vegas doesn’t do rain that well.
Being me, and somewhat stupid sometimes, I looked at the river of water pouring down one road and into what looked like an underground garage and said, OMG that’s so cool.”.
I probably would have looked at the Hiroshima bomb and said, OMG, wow, look at that amazing mushroom cloud!
The Ted-Nugent guy looked at me. “Cool? Not for the people who are affected by the flood.”
Clearly Ted Nugent was not a fan of the awesome destruction of nature like me.
I think in my next life, I want to chase storms for a living. Or create them, depending on if I’ve evolved into a god or not.
But despite the rains and floods, we’d reached the High Roller.
The rest of the day began well enough. Most horror novels start this way.
We had THE BEST lunch at NY, NY. I love this hotel, with its fake streets and fake Manhattan skyline and fake Statue of Liberty.
We ate at the not-so-fake Broadway Burger Bar and Grill. Made our own. The boyz had their traditional hamburger – patty, bun and ketchup, no, nothing more, just plain with ketchup, no, no tomato or mustard, just plain.
I ate the massive and diet-killing philly burger, which was largely a huge burger stacked with cheese, steak, and grilled onions and peppers. OMG good. I instantly gained 30lbs.
Plus, our waiter was simply fantastic. Chatty. Informative. Funny. He not only served us food, he gave us some great advice as well.
However, it was right after that meal that things started to go pear-shaped.
The-Prettiest-Girl-in-the-World began to get a migraine which could be from me making loud eating noises and moaning, ‘Omg,’ this burger is good for the entire lunch, or it could be the beating her head took on the roller coaster, or it could simply be the stress and pressure of a day filled with making sure The-Youngest does not behave like a rabid howler monkey hopped up on coffee.
Maybe all 3.
But by the time we were done, she wasn’t feeling well at all.
We could have gone back to the hotel, but The-Prettiest-Girl-in-the-World wanted to make sure her boy had a great day. She’s amazing that way.
So off to the Hershey store we went.
Now, it’s quite a balance for us, letting The-Youngest have the best time possible while making sure we don’t get kicked out of a store because our child climbed the walls or stuffed his underwear full of hard candy.
I mean, on one hand, we want him to be a kid and enjoy those kid-moments of pure happiness.
On the other hand, we do not want to live in a world ruled by unsupervised 9-year-olds going all Lord-of-the-Flies, taking off his shirt and rubbing chocolate on themselves.
And the simplest solution… The-Prettiest-Girl-in-the-World held The-Youngest’s hand. In a vice-like momma-grip.
But wow, did he love that store. He dragged his mom to every part of the store, showing her cups that looked like they were made out of chocolate, pillows that looked like Jolly Rancher candies, water bottles with the Hershey logo, and HUGE chocolate bars the size of brief-cases.
Then he ran into the most terrible of things. Something he’d not prepared himself for in any way despite having watched hours of video on what the inside of the Hershey store looked like. They didn’t have a dispenser for apple flavoured Jolly Ranchers.
The-Youngest wasn’t pleased. Nothing was turning out like the YouTube videos showed. First, the roller coasters were terrifying. No one told him that. Then we wouldn’t let him gamble more than $2. THEN, horror of horrors, no apple flavoured Jolly Ranchers!!!!
To be fair, he took it pretty well. It would be like me going to a tank museum and finding all the tanks didn’t have guns, or The-Prettiest-Girl-in-the-World going to a shoe store and finding a perfect pair of shoes, but forgetting her wallet. Or not having them in her size.
But he couldn’t understand why they wouldn’t have his favourite flavour. He wanted to speak to someone about this.
Luckily, that lasted only, what, a minute, then he was off, again, rushing to look at the orange peanut butter cup displays and touch all the shot glasses. FYI, if you ever buy anything like that in a candy store, wash the sh*t out of it cuz I guarantee it’s been touched by 10,000 little sticky, snotty, dirty fingers (and that’s just kid-fingers. Imagine what the adults have been touching!)
In the end, The-Youngest bought a pillow, a big bag of Jolly Ranchers, (assorted flavours) and got a free gigantic chocolate bar because, I think, he was so damn polite at the till.
That seemed to cheer him up. Nothing like free candy, right?
Then, we went to go outside. Into the bright sunshine. Into the heat.
Only to find it was raining.
I was super excited.
It’s not every day you get to see rain in Vegas. It’s kind of odd. Like seeing a good Adam Sandler comedy or a Kardashian without make-up.
So, anyone have any idea what happens in Vegas when it rains?
This was to be The-Youngest’s day. Down to NY NY, play some arcade games, see the candy stores, (“Joe, did you know they are 3 stories tall and all the floors have candy?”), then head to the High Roller and see Vegas from a 782’ Ferris wheel.
A simple plan, but once, again, something cropped up that we never, ever would have expected.
To be honest, we weren’t in a rush, though by ‘us’, I mean everyone but The-Youngest. He wanted to get going and going NOW. However, inexplicably, he wasn’t being a pest. Although he couldn’t keep still and kept walking around the hotel like a caged badger on speed, he didn’t bug the rest of us who were moving with sloth-like swiftness.
We ended up buying food in the gift shop. At $120 for breakfast, we had to rethink our approach and so bought milk and cereal at the gift shop. Sure, it wasn’t Walmart-cheap, but it was less than $15 for all of us.
We ate back at the room, cleaned up the mess after The-Youngest managed to spill his entire cereal box and milk onto the bed, and then dressed for the day.
By 11, we were out of the hotel and roaring down to NY, NY, which is not quite at the far end of the strip but far enough to make walking a bit difficult. We chose to use a cab since getting a 2-hour bus pass for the 4 of us costs more. If we’re going to use the bus a lot it makes total sense to spend the money, but if it’s just to zip down to one hotel, then cabs are the best way to go (or Uber which we still might try).
Originally, The-Youngest planned (nay, dreamed!) of going on the coaster at NY, NY. But El Loco scared him so badly that he decided, in a very rational and contemplative manner, to wait until he’s 86 to go on the more adult roller coasters.
The-Oldest and The-Prettiest-Girl-in-the-World, however, HAD to try out this one. Frankly, I was happy to stay with the-Youngest and listen to the facts about roller coasters around the world that he would one day do.
The-Prettiest-Girl-in-the-World came back with her hair messed up and a look on her face like a soldier who’d just come back from a tour in Bagdad. I asked her if she was ok, and she looked at me bashfully and told me that the ride made her bra come off.
What? How the hell does a roller coaster do that?
She shrugged. Who knew someone could be sexually harassed by a rollercoaster.
We’re still not sure how it happened, but we’re blaming her front-loading bra. I guess the excitement was just too much for the ‘girls’ and they wanted to be free.
The-Oldest, though, had the look of someone who’s just eaten a bag of chocolate covered coffee beans, the biggest grin on his face. They both had a great time!
Then we played in the arcade. The-Youngest made the mistake of reminding me that I lost to him the last time we played air hockey, so I kicked his butt this time. The real challenge, though, was stopping him from playing all the gambling games to get 1000 tickets which can then be used to buy a small, rubber ball.
Playing was no longer important. Winning was. A game where you shoot zombies in the nuts became un-fun, while a game where you could win a ticket if you guessed the right number became super-awesome. In the end, he got to play only a few of those, however, and for that privilege, he was treated to 20 minutes of me lecturing him, again, about gambling and obsessive behavior (which I freely admitted, I can do as well.)
Then it was time for food since we refused to let The-Youngest into a candy store before he ate. And, to be honest, there was no way I could go in a candy store on an empty stomach. You have no idea how much chocolate I would buy. I might even buy the store.
So we went to eat at the BEST area in Vegas, in my opinion.
Confession time. I hate everyone, and everything at 6
I hate everyone, and everything at 6 am in the morning before I’ve had coffee.
I do not leap out of bed and think, wow, what a wonderful world, I’m so grateful to be alive. I think, why no one has invented an intravenous machine that pumps hot coffee directly into your veins?
Everyone is still asleep when I get up and it’s hard to sneak out to do writing because The-Prettiest-Girl-In-the-World has momma-hearing, (and that means she detects the exact moment my breathing changes.) After thumping around, I kiss her on the forehead and tell her I hope she gets back to sleep.
The strip and casinos are dead at 6 am. Even the in-house Starbucks isn’t busy. The few who are up seem to be either rushing out with a suitcase, or staggering around red-eyed like they never went to sleep. There are a few nutbags at the hotel gym, I should imagine. Some at the slots looking tired and broke. I see one sad-looking soul at the bar (and I’m not even sure they’re serving anything.) But a casino is a spooky place without a lot of people.
Right now, I hate everyone I see. The thin guy in his expensive jogging shoes and high-tech sweat gear heading out for a run. The large black woman who’s closing in on 400lbs who has decided yoga pants are a good look this morning. The overly nice barista who tries to make happy-happy conversation with me when all I want to do is order a coffee, grande. The white-haired old guy who couldn’t figure out what to order despite standing in line for 10 freaking minutes and stands at the counter, looking at the board like this is his most difficult decision of his day and if he gets it wrong, he’s going back to the concentration camp or something, (spoiler alert, this will be me when I’m 200.)
I need coffee. Coffee doesn’t so much restore my faith in people as it moves my brain way from sleepy grumpiness to wide-awake creativity.
It really quite a transformation. I go from wanting to murder the guy who looked like he shined his bald head with a floor buffer to give it a blinding shine to reading the burlap sacks on the walls of Starbucks and wondering when the sack says “save the Amazon, use Jute” what the heck Jute is? A tree? A plant like hemp? What if I had a character named Jute? From the Amazon? Who wears burlaps sacks?
So, this morning, yes, not only will I write a bit, but I have to figure out how to make the tickets to the High Roller Ferris Wheel usable on my mobile phone. We’ve also brought tickets to the Beatles Love (Cirque du Soliel style) because The-Oldest needs a good music fix. He hasn’t been able to play his piano for nearly a week, listened to no classical music for at least two says, and I can see that his eye is starting to twitch.
Last night I failed to get those tickets on my phone. I was simply too tired to figure it all out. With more coffee, I hope everything becomes clear. Last night, The-Youngest, who listed the High Roller in his top 10 then asked, actually asked, if he could bring his iPad cuz it could be boring and he didn’t want to be bored on it.
This from the guy who bugged us for WEEKS to go on the High Roller.
I said, ah, that would be a no. No iPad.
Also planned for today…NY NY, mostly for the rollercoaster there, which (after supper), The-Youngest vowed NOT to go on because of his terrifying experience yesterday. He’s gone from literally vibrating with excitement at the mention of a rollercoaster to looking like he’s about to have his liver removed with a spoon and all his electronics sold to hobos.
But The-Oldest is dead keen on that coaster. He’s fearless on those things. Beyond fearless, really. He loves the speed, the exhilaration, the feel of terror and impending death.
Then after NY, NY, we’re hitting the candy shops, a place that The-Youngest can talk to you about for hours. I kid you not.
“Joe, did you know they have giant jars of Jolly Ranchers that are just the red kind, but I don’t know if they’re actually the watermelon kind or the cherry kind or what, but it doesn’t really make any difference because I like them both, but I also like the apple ones which are green, and they have jars of them, too, and all the other colors, and I think, if I have enough room in my luggage, that I’ll get the green ones, cuz apple is my favourite and Joe, did you know that they have Hershey bars that are so big that they cost $50…”
Knowing how much time everything takes, we’ll have a full day. I suspect we’ll be spending hours in the candy store alone while The-Youngest debates which two jars of candy he’ll take home. Joe, did you know that on one hand, the watermelon ones are good in the summer because they taste like real watermelon, and that’s refreshing, but apple is kind of refreshing, too, and tastes like, you know, apple, which always tastes good, but then, again, oh, look there’re the jars filled with the blueberry ones and they’re my all-time favourite…