The plane ride was long, but about what I expected. Nothing fancy, packed in like sardines, wake me when we get there. Upon our arrival, my first thoughts reflect in the words of Eugene Morris Jerome, in the movie Biloxi Blues. "Man it's hot. It's like Africa hot. Tarzan couldn't take this kind of hot." Inside the airport, we're greeted by banks of flashing slot machines. No thank you, I'm just here for the shows and a little weekend rest and relaxation. I'm not going to get sucked into that gambling thing.
A white-knuckle cab ride by one of many drivers who know the streets, alleys, and short-cuts in Las Vegas intimately, and we burst through the doors of our hotel as though we had just been ejected from our seats back at the airplane. (Blessings upon Willis Haviland Carrier, the man who invented modern air conditioning, without whom human habitation of the desert would not be possible.) We are in paradise... walking in slow motion as though in a dream... lush gardens, waterfalls, hundreds of other tourists dressed like gardeners at a black tie dinner. Everyone looks very much out of place in this five-star hotel.
We open the door to our room as relaxing cocktail lounge music tinkers in the background. Once inside, it takes me a half-hour and several phone calls to figure out how to open the curtains, but when I do, I stand there for hours... over a period of days. We were on the 52nd floor overlooking "The Strip." Below us was the life blood of Las Vegas, taxi cabs flowing through the city and off into the distance, like the fluid traveling our veins and arteries. I stayed up most of the night seated in front of the window just watching the city, like some kid in front of an aquarium, feeling like some country bumpkin on his first trip to the big city. There was a lot happening out there, and I didn't want to miss any of it.
The stay was short, but we managed to see two shows over two nights both after having dinner fit for a king. Then it was back to the hotel, which was like a city unto itself. All paths take you through the hotel casino at some point. Having watched over the shoulders of others, eventually I got up the courage to approach a penny slot machine. Cautiously allowing the machine to suck the dollar bill from my hand, I soon turned it into $5. Quickly, I retrieved my winnings and dashed away, clutching the money as I laughed out loud like Doctor Frankenstein with the secret discovery, "It's alive... It's ALIVE!"
I was tempted to get on a plane and head home, straining against the need to beat the odds, and return from Vegas a winner. But it was so easy, why not try again. At a different machine, POOF... I turned $1 into $16, and at another, $1 became $12. And so it went on and on, win some, lose some. I don't know if I came home ahead or behind, but I had a good time. Not once did I ponder wars, hurricanes, or the National Deficit. My body had been on vacation before, but this was the first time my mind came along for the ride.
The odd thing is, for years I ridiculed friends and family members for their "wasteful" excursions to Las Vegas. Now, I'm looking forward to going back some day, confident that I'll return with fond memories of my trip. At least, I know I'll enjoy the view. I think I want to try the 53rd floor with that wall-to-wall view of the city. Thank you Chris and John for showing us a wonderful weekend. Next trip, I plan to go "big time" in the casino and play the nickel slot machines.
