But I digress.
I miss my friends from Texas. It's a rare event when you meet a gaggle of girls with no other agenda than having a great time, being supportive and sharing lots of laughs. In my 2 years in Houston, I spent many a Friday afternoon at a playgroup with these women, sharing a glass of wine, parenting skills and the occasional dirty joke or two. I've moved back to California, one other member now lives in New Hampshire, and the rest are still in Texas. We were bemoaning our distance via email when we suddenly decided to plan a Girls Weekend Getaway. In Las Vegas.
Vegas. I had not been there in 12 years. It's changed quite a bit. The slot machines have gone digital- and no longer leave that ding ding dinging ringing in your ears. Most of the upscale casinos do not allow smoking (or have amazing filters). We decided to go out for a Mack-Daddy dinner our first night, so we got all dolled up in cocktail dresses and tried out Thomas Keller's Bouchon. Our waiter was a German guy named Randy that was hell bent on convincing us German guys can have a sense of humor. (He didn't succeed). The food was great. The beignets filled with pastry cream were my personal favorite.
After leaving Bouchon, we hightailed it over to the Bellagio. The light was dim, & I was walking fast- so when I was stopped by a young gentleman in a suit, who asked me if I wanted to get my name on a VIP list for the club at the Bellagio- I stopped short. Envisioning a scene from "Knocked Up" ("Doorman, I'm not too old"!) I quickly laughed and told the guy, "You DO know I'm 37 and have 2 kids right? I'm wearing Spanx which are hiding my stretch marks. I think you have made a mistake." He laughed, asked for my cell number and said he'd text me.
Meanwhile, we decided to try our hand at craps. One of the more well versed gamblers of our group quickly demonstrated how craps worked by pocketing $150 in 30 minutes. How simple! How fun! (Fun yes... simple? No. I lost the next night). But craps is like a party- the kind of party where you hang out with strangers- one that looks just like Bill Clinton and calls himself "Big Daddy" and his escort (using the term loosely) that is, maybe 22- and proud of her big boobies.
We did get into the club at the Bellagio. I haven't been to a club in more years than I care to remember, and I was shocked at the changes. The VIP seating areas cost $750 for a booth, and it comes with 2 bottles of Vodka. (We opted to not do this). However, we did get to watch 2 blondes in gold dresses light bottles of Cristal Champagne on fire and shake their moneymakers in some guys' face. The dance floor was packed, and after a few drinks, we decided to make the best of our situation by either doing aerobic dance moves, or impersonating Elaine from "Seinfeld." No one else around us was born in the 80's so our jokes went unnoticed. We just looked like goofy old ladies that didn't know how to dance.
Goofy old ladies that were having some serious fun.
To be continued....