…driving, driving, the Killers. Jesse McCartney, and this is my jam. Driving, windows up, tunes up, water, camera, and driving. Three hours, time ticks, workout mix and folksy songs, so sorry Jeff. Then trickling through civilization…a roller coaster, outlet malls, but not the real Vegas. Katy Perry. A discussion on cherry chapstick. Then closer, closer, everyone awake, through the Mojave, thank God. Then traffic, and slowing, and shit, the car is not driving. Thank God we didn’t stop for me to pee. Thank God we’re not in the Mojave. Jumping to action, two iPhones, no one sitting in the sun, AAA. He said, she said. Move out of the sun! UV Index of 9! Out of the sun. Everyone out of the car. “If you’re in the car, you should have your seat belt on.” and “What are you doing” as if the officer thought we pulled over just for kicks. Arranging a ride, waiting for a tow. “This is my lucky day” but really it was OUR lucky day – four seats in a tow truck. Dropping off the car, nearly inviting the B-look alike to come out with us, being so damn close to the Orleans. What a way to start the weekend.
hot. so hot, I’m melting. sunshine, beating down, and UV index of 9. Into our room. Bags down. Bathing suits on. Pool side pizza, pool side service, pool side mai tai. In the pool, drink in hand. Laughing, gossiping, perfect.
Back, shower, change, dry hair, where’s my dress? hair ties, what time is it, hairspray, combs, makeup, dresses, boys ready, girls chattering, getting ready...8 o’clock, time to GO. Cab ride later, dinner, pink shirts and black shirts and skirts and dresses and curls and bangs and Italian. Bread, oil on dress, people watching, laughing, spicy pizza, too much pasta. Too much laughter, never enough, stories, plans, reminiscing about the summer, and its near end…
Then on, dancing, “get up here if it’s your birthday” and “Absolutely not” and suddenly she’s on the bar, dancing like it’s her birthday, go party, like it’s your birthday. Dancing, dresses, dancing with friends, dancing with strangers, because this is my JAM. Singing along, singing loudly, singing louder, singing to each other, singing for each other, singing for you.
Walk on, street to bridge to street to Luxor, to the longest. line. ever. Maybe we should ride the inclinators? Follow tourists to the elevators — these are wrong. “They have bags, quick, let’s follow them!” Riding the inclinator, making up a story about someone on 23, “What room did they say?” but really riding for the ride. Inclinator, Rachel, goes right, and left, up and to the right, up and to the left? We’re still not sure.
And somewhere, romantic pictures with RM, and with each other, and smiles, and borrowed socks because her feet hurt so badly that she will NOT wear her heels any longer.
Rejoin the team. Plan? Bowling in dresses? At 1:00 am? Sure, let’s go! Back in the taxi line, back to the hotel, socks, boys getting comfortable, showing off my spine-safe skills, then to bowling…”Eff it, I’m going without socks.” Gathering money, $6, one game, cheaper than LA, yes, please. Dallas beats JDubbs, but not JTMoney, not Slyd. Then C’s phone breaks, of course it does, because how could this night be better? It couldn’t. And I still see my stain, two oily polka dots…
3:00 am to bed, air mattress, and chicken fingers. And sleep…
…wake, to bagels, to friends, to checking out, to sticking around. Hugging 13, takes all morning, and shark attack. And everyone is gone. And we’re still here. ATT and Starbucks, and I AM MELTING because it’s 110 and I want to go back to cool LA…lunch, cool, below the Venetian, then walking, walking, “THIS IS WHERE…” whispers to C, D, and R about past visits to Vegas, smiling for more pictures, laughing, a human statue…back to the car, rented, to take us home. Packing, no time to gamble, a hug, and we’re on the road…AC up, tunes blaring, one nap, mostly talking, chattering, Dunkin Donuts, and Sheryl Crow, because: We’re leaving Las Vegas (leaving for good.)
