What Happens In Vegas.............

I'm back and Vegas is still standing, even if I'm not.

The Wedding was great. The bride was beautiful. The people were fun and the mood festive. And we all have a few good stories for years to come to bring home with us.

Thursday night we ventured out as a group to hit the strip. Seeking some music and drinks we headed from our hotel, The Flamingo, over to Bellagio . Upon entering the "cool" lounge their, we found it was full and were sent away with the distinct impression that we were too old and not quite hip enough to hang out in this joint. But they were kind enough to direct us to "Caramel", the club on the other side of the casino floor that would be much more what we were hoping for anyway. The gentleman working the door at Caramel also sent us away. The grooms brother and the brides brother were both wearing sandals, this is a capital offense in Vegas night clubs, -not cool enough for this place either. Once again we were directed 'just across the way' to a lounge with an 80's cover band and dance floor, perfect. We enter to find that we are the youngest people in here by at least 25 years. The funny part was that we were really enjoying the band and this is where we fit in. We didn't stay for more than an hour. We couldn't at those drink prices. We were off again. This time back across the street to Margaritaville. Great band, younger crowd, more affordable(slightly). Jimmy Buffet has no hang-ups about sandals.

The next morning we all dressed and primped for the wedding. We had to search through the hotel to find the right exit where the Limo was waiting. The super stretch was supposed to be able to accommodate 12, however at 9 people we were sardined in. Our driver should not be working in a service industry. He was most unpleasant and did not seem to enjoy his chosen profession. Not even a smile and congratulations for the bride and groom. However, he did drive just fine.

The wedding went off without a hitch. Well there was one hitch, but that was the point of being there.

On the way back to the hotel the grooms brother decided that it would be a good idea to lean 1/3 of his body out the window and wave at the woman driving next to us, with a state trooper behind us. Just for the record this was not a good idea. We were given a warning in the form of a quick flash of the lights and siren. That would be enough for most people, not for this guy. A few moments later while the Trooper was passing on our left, he blew a kiss at the trooper. Not having much in the way of a sense of humor, the Limo was now pulled over. No ticket issued, but a stern warning about how going to jail would put a crimp in the day.

Luckily, the rest of the day was fun and smooth. We had dinner and cake. Some went off for naps to rest up for the night ahead. I hit the tables for a while and had a blast. Black Jack players are pretty typically a fun nice group. We had some fun and entertaining dealers and a lot of laughter. Later is was back out as a group for more music and dancing.

Saturday was definitely time for some downtime poolside. I was relaxed and feeling great. We were all having fun, watching the water volleyball game when I hit a slick spot on the pool deck. My feet came flying out from under me and I crashed full force onto the concrete flat on my back. I was given a towel an icepack and a Coors Light. I received a nasty headache and blinding pain that ended my day.

I filled out an incident report in the security offices. The take the report in the infamous 'back room'. And that is exactly what it is. A small interrogation room with a table, 2 chairs and a camera. The security officer who took the report had about as much social skill as the Limo driver, polite, but barely.

Sunday was time to head for the airport. Ibuprofen was not cutting it and I was not looking forward to a 4 hour flight in coach. Of course the flight was delayed and overbooked. Of course I am assigned the 'middle seat'. And of course the drink of the guy sitting next to me spills into my lap and I get to sit in Jack and Coke on the rocks for 3 hours.

At 1:30 a.m. I was grateful to be home in my own bed. At 7:30 a.m. I reached for more ibuprofen and am calling the doctor today for an appointment.

So to recap: I got 'backroomed' at the Flamingo and I didn't even get a lousy t-shirt.

Never Trust the Mob

This little kids on vacation thing is really working out. I have been extremely unproductive, and loving it! Today I may do some bare minimums like feed the pets.
Yesterday Hubby and I did manage to un-glue our butts from the couch and go see "Get Smart". It was stupid funny and very well done, the casting was perfect, and the laughs cheap. They stayed very true to the original show and it was a real hoot.
After the movie, we went to dinner at 'Al Capone's Steakhouse and Hideaway'. It's and old (like 100) speakeasy that various shady individuals used to frequent. I had heard really good things about the place and wanted to try it for some time now. It's not cheap, but supposedly worth it.
Notice I said supposedly. First of all, the place smelled, and not like steaks. It had a musty, moldy odor like that of an old woman's house filled with 27 cats. The waitress came to explain the menu and take our drink order. I ordered a martini. A steakhouse should serve a good martini right, WRONG! It was not cold. Not quite room temperature but barely chilled. I know that the polar ice caps are supposedly melting, but do we have to chince on the ice in the shaker? Next the bread came out. It was 2 large kaiser style rolls drenched in olive oil, parmasean and herbs. Sounds good , heh? Only if it wasn't at least a week old. Soon the soup came. Creamy Potato for me, and onion for Hubby. Good stuff, nothing to complain about here (shocking I know). Onto the salads which consisted of chopped iceberg lettuce and 2 cherry tomatos topped with a cool whip style glob of ranch dressing. The dressing was so thick that it shook like jello. And the coloring looked like something that I typically go to extremes to keep out of my mouth.
Then came the main event. Hubby ordered the rib eye and I the fillet. The stakes were gray in color and mine was not even close to the medium rare I had ordered. Reluctantly, I sent mine back. I do not like doing this. I used to work in the industry and do not want to be 'that customer' but at $35 for the steak, I want it right. The waitress was very nice and asked "Can I offer you another drink while you wait for that to come back out"? "Yes, thank you" I reply, thinking free booze can forgive any meal. Only later to find out that she was just suggestive selling and there was no attempt to atone for the lousy meal. My fillet version 2.0 finally did come out, now that Hubby had finished his lackluster rib eye. It was rare this time and complete with fat and grizzle. Yup, that's right. Any of you carnivores out there appreciate just how ludicrous this concept is. I no longer had the energy to try and salvage this meal. I just cut from the ends and ate it the best I could and boxed the rest up (to place in trash receptacle later). In retrospect I should have complained and not paid for the meal, but my spirit was already broken. The waitress offered us dessert and I thought to myself "I'm not falling for that one!". So we paid our bill and got the hell out of there. We will not be back. I should have known that anyplace named after Al Capone surely has to be a graft.
We salvaged the rest of the evening by stopping and picking up the first season of "The X Files",
glued ourselves back to the couch and dozed off sometime during the 3rd episode. It was a great date, but I am no longer allowed to pick the restaurant.