So after moving in and forwarding my mail to the airport, we finally boarded the plane and went to Vegas. Lesson learned? Delta really DOES stand for "Doesn't Ever Leave The Airport."
On we go!
So I get to Vegas, and take ANOTHER tram to where my luggage was, picked up my luggage, and looked for a cab. Side note! The saddest sight in all the lands and seas? People playing slot machines AT THE AIRPORT. So sad.
So I stood on line for a cab, smoked seventeen cigarettes in a row, and it was off to the timeshare I was staying at with Snarky Amber, my heterosexual life partner. (Not to be confused with Sadarose, who is my lifemete. I have many partners in life.) SO! The cab driver didn't know where he was going, and it took eleventy million dollars in order to get to the timeshare and find Amber. Cabs and the money involved are a recurring theme this weekend, so make a note.
Upon finding Amber, I ate her whole with snuggles and got ready to go out out out to the Bellagio to meet the rest of the MamaPop crew. This involved washing the airport stank off of me and changing into my fabulous blue shirt, which is v. sexy and does not have a back. I looked hott, to say the least. I also was so tired I couldn't see straight or form complete sentences, but no matter! On to the Bellagio!
Oh, and one more thing. I was wearing these. BIG MISTAKE, but we'll get to that later.
So we spend another eleventy million dollars on a cab, and go to the Bellagio, which is beyond lovely. We meet up with the MamaPop crew and hugs were given and recieved, I have yet another Red Bull (for strength!) and we mock the worst cover band in history. Blackberries and iPhones are all out (NERDS) to Twitter the whole thing. Neeeeeeeeeerds. YOU LOVE US. And then the decision was made to locate some kareoke. This was the beginning of the Trail of Tears.
Remember the hooker shoes? Imagine walking for an hour in those. In the rain. By the end, I couldn't SEE I was in so much pain. But that was my own damn fault, so no sympathy for me, thanks.
OH! Did I mention it was raining and cold? The two days it rained and was cold in Vegas, like EVER, and we were there. First person to say "Eh, you brought the weather with you, huh?" gets stabbed with knives.
So we walk for an HOUR to get to the Tropicana to do kareoke. Oh wait, we walk for an hour to get to the Tropicana where a lying liar who LIES told us there WAS no kareoke. Lies. LIES!
At this point, Amber, who sounds a LOT like my Common Sense, announced that there would be NO MORE RED BULL until I got some food. So she and I went to the Buffet At The End of the Trail of Tears, and spent an obscene amount of money on what was obviously Stouffer's Mac and Cheese, and there was much woe.
Other names for the Trail of Tears?
"You are the Gunga Din of FAIL."
"Trail of FAIL."
My travel companions are SO FUNNY, dudes, you have no idea.
Oh god, this is getting long. SO! The crowd dispersed, and Amber and I played some nickel slots, and smoked INSIDE, OMG, and then went home for another eleventy million dollars worth of cab ride, ordered a pizza, and ate it in bed whilst watching Food Network. And then we spooned.
And that was day one! Total hours spent getting to Vegas, The Trail of Tears and spooning with Amber? 24 hours.