That's because I have been in a perpetual state of "what the hell day is this?" since June 5th.
You see, at midnight, the very moment we switched to June 6th, I started my seven week summer course (hence the tardiness of this post). I'm not particularly a fan of these summer sessions, but the benefit is that I can take a class that would ordinarily be very easy for me (OK, so there was the one time I took Algebra in seven weeks, and still ended up passing with an A), and cram it into half the time of a normal semester. Let's face it, the quicker I can get a class done, the further away from this sick little game I can get (and it ain't fast enough, folks!).
I had this little predicament, though; well, it was actually quite a big predicament.
We had to leave to go see this guy - oh, what's his name, Paul Mc-something - at about six o'clock in the morning on June 6th! See my problem? So, I worked until four o'clock in the morning, and hoped that would be enough (I did meet every deadline I could, so I'm sure it was just fine). The best part of the whole thing is that I just didn't give a shiny baboon's arse that I was missing the first week of seven.
My sister and I used to sing the I Am Weasel theme song in the back seat of our car all the time. Now she doesn't sing in front of people (whereas I scared the hell out of a UPS delivery guy only this afternoon).
Vegas has that effect on me, I guess, 'cause I only checked in once the entire time I was gone, and it happened to be on June 7th, the day before we got to Vegas.
Before we delve into the awesomeness that was Vegas, though, let's start at the beginning of the story. You know, like you're supposed to. (Imagine that!)
After the college debacle, we left for Gallup, NM (we know, we know) at around 2:30 in the afternoon.
"How nice", we thought to ourselves, "a leisurely drive to New Mexico, and we can finish off the rest of the trip in time for a late lunch in Vegas tomorrow! Oh, happy day!"
We hadn't even left town before some kind of belt thingy on our car squeaked and squealed as we began our journey. With stops every twenty or so minutes (or maybe it just felt that way), we decided to get it checked out in Albuquerque. Five hours later, we were on our way, but not before we had some great adventures.
The ash cloud from some fire in Arizona engulfed the entire town during our five hour lay-over; the sunlight filtering through the debris was absolutely golden as embers flitted about like snow in the air. I imagine it was what Pompeii looked like right before it was smothered. If I ever see anything like that in my life again, I will know to run the other way; just as a bystander, though, it was amazing to see.
Our view from the auto repair shop. The time was 7:22, if that gives you an indication of how mucky it was out there.
If you really want to know how bad the ash was, just ask this guy. We figured he was asthmatic.
I swear to God, this guy was at the Whataburger across the street from the auto shop. I took the shot from the back seat of our car, so I had to crop the photo down a bit so you could see him clearly.
Highlights from the trip? I thought you'd never ask!
Reginald Kitty is not amused.
*What is it with random people walking along the highway in the Middle-Of-Nowhere-Arizona? Thirty miles from the nearest town, and random people were just along the highway, no car in sight. One guy was wearing a very heavy down coat, and, a while later, a kid on a bike. No car, too young to drive, but a kid just riding a bike. I. Kid. You. Not.
*A direct quote from my vacation notebook (yeah, sue me): Leaving LOVE shop: "I lost the hundred dollars I came with". Heard Panic At The Disco in the car park. Both pleased me.
The best part about the gambling man was that he was chasing after his friends; I like to imagine they were holding his wallet.
*For once, the music in the casinos was good. I know, I was shocked, too. The first day alone, I heard Plain White T's, Panic At The Disco, Sugar Ray, Smashmouth, and lots of classic rock (Elton, Billy, Beatles, you know the drill). It has only just dawned on me as I typed that sentence that they're trying to reach my age range, though. Oh God.
*There was a guy dressed up like Chewbacca walking around on the Strip. I couldn't find him for a photograph, though, so here's a substitute.
*This.
At Paris. After I took this picture, the girl behind me pulled out her phone while screaming "OH MA GAWD". I told her to put it on Twitter.
*The Triangle Of Awesome. For those of you who may not know what the Triangle Of Awesome is, take note of the circled items.
At top, The Beatles Revolution Lounge (and, naturally, the LOVE shop); lower left, husband... um, I mean, iPad shopping at the Apple Store in Caesar's Palace; at right, after a long day of browsing (and buying, in some cases), Chipotle for a spot of lunch. Does life get better than that, I ask you? Oh, wait, I forgot about the guys on the Lennon Bus in tight trousers. (I can't help it if the thing was parked outside The Mirage the whole time we were there.) I withdraw the statement.
*I was actually called a southern belle by a Long Island Yankee. Believe it. All I did was say "are you positive?", which caused laughs from their group as they tried (and failed) to repeat the words with my accent. I think I may have laughed with them. What? It's funny.
Related thought: I, apparently, do not mind being shoved into folks if they randomly start singing Beatles songs (though, with as long as we were bumped up against each other, at least he could have bought me dinner before he made fun of my accent).
*Oh, and we saw this guy, Paul McCartney. I can't explain what our Paul experience was this time. The only word I can say is surreal. We walked into the arena, and the reaction was something like this (not just from us, but from everybody in our section)...
My mother saw this and said "I love gimp cats!" Only in our house...
Followed closely by this...
Once the show started, I turned into a little puddle of weak-kneed mush as my eyes beheld the wonders before them. We sang, we danced, we blew kisses and got some in return, we screamed so hard we coughed up blood, and we wept like schoolgirls. There simply are no words. None. Empty. But, that's the magic of Vegas. Anything is possible there, let me tell you. I have been to Vegas on pilgrimage before (please, dear God, don't ask), but there's something about the place that just leaves me with a mystical glow of pure joy.
All in all, the trip flew by too quickly, but what a trip it was!
And Paul, love, we'll see you next time!
