Tuesday, April 26, 2011

What happens in Vegas...

...Is pretty fair game on a blog.

Have you ever heard anyone say, "Life is about the journey, not just the destination," or something very like it? If you have, and didn't serve jail time for your very understandable reaction it, this is the blog for you.

I may have told you, dearest, that a Very Nice Person invited me to Las Vegas. There's a work-related trade show here for VNP and was a lovely thing to be included in such a trip/vacation. The thought was, I could write during the day--or wander around, doing as I choose--and VNP and I could have fun and run around in the evenings. What a great opportunity! Fun, frolic and time with VNP.

The plan was to arrive, via separate flights, last night, meet at the airport, then go to the hotel after getting the rental car. And, for the most part, this is was happened.


As I was getting ready for the trip, I had a to-do list as long as your arm. Okay, half your arm. No, not just the hand. Unless you have a really long hand. Hand and wrist, that's my final offer. Anyway. It was a lot of stuff to do. And I was doing it. I was getting a lot of it done. Then VNP called.

A certain airline [that rhymes with BletSchmue] informed VNP that he wouldn't make his flight to Vegas. And strangely, no other flights to Las Vegas existed. Nope. None. Mostly because this airline has no arrangements with any other airlines if cancellations occur. I think this airline may be the only airline in US without such an arrangement. There was much anger. There was bad language. There was eventual resolution...but not without stress and avowals of never using this airline again. Ever. EVER.

Later, Roommate called. She asked how I was doing, inquired after my to-do list. Then...

Roommate: Hey, we're having that bake sale on Wednesday.

Me: Oh, right.

Roommate: If you have time, could you make chocolate chip cookies?

Me: ............Sure.

Yeah. I know. I know! But it was for a good cause. In the middle of seventeen loads of laundry, stripping the beds and remaking them, packing and trying to remember what I forgot, I baked chocolate chip cookies and banana bread. Because that's what I do.

Roommate came home and we both stared lustfully and longingly at the baked goods. We left them alone, but we really wanted to inhale all of them. We didn't. But we wanted to. We left them alone, loaded up the car, and set off for Sea-Tac. We made good time, but I was a trifle later than the airport would prefer its patrons to be. I arrive an hour and fifteen minutes before scheduled flight time and most airports suggest one arrive at least four or five years earlier.

I checked with the airline with a compass heading for a name and the young woman at the desk made sure to ask if I could fasten a seat belt around myself and put the armrests all the way down. Because, you know, if I lop over onto the next seat, I should be flogged and thrown off the plane, before being charged for a second seat. Oh, excuse me, it was only for the "safety of the other passengers." Hey, new flash, Airline Barbie, being crammed up against a fat woman in a crash will only proved more padding. And really, given that there were only FIFTEEN OTHER PASSENGERS, was this query really necessary???

Then the TSA agents broke a zipper pull off my new-ish purse. I wasn't delighted. But okay, okay. Let it go.

After landing in Lost Wages, VNP and I met in the baggage area and went to the car rental together. There was wandering around, I won't lie to you, but eventually, we got into a lovely vehicle that smelled only slightly of cigarette smoke. I didn't even vomit!

Then we pulled up to one of the largest hotel complexes I have ever seen, if not THE largest. Huge. We parked in the self-parking area, then trekked, hauling bags to the hotel lobby. I think we passed through a time zone. When we got there, VNP asked me to get food from the one restaurantish place still open in this gambling, 24-hour-a-day Xanadu. A quick trip to the next county, AKA past the casino, and I had sandwiches and chips and returned to the lobby.

VNP was nowhere to be seen.

The lovely boy at the desk informed that VNP had left our bags with him and was retrieving the car because...

...we were at the wrong hotel.

I can't wait to see what happens tomorrow.

1 comment:

  1. Congratulations for not being put in handcuffs.
    (three, two...)
    I can't wait to hear you tell what happens next, even if it's just 'boring' stuff like "So focused on WIP that VNP almost had cause to get jealous."
    May the worst over with.