Spring Break is over!
Tuesday, April 8, 2008
I have that weird sensation on the first day of school after a vacation – I'm relieved to be alone, even if it is with 12 loads of laundry – but then I miss them all..!
Las Vegas was a trip, in every sense.
Now, I don't gamble. The biggest risk I took was venturing down to the pool in my swimsuit. Although it wasn't quite as 'buns of steel and fluorescent thong' as I thought it would be. I break the landspeed record getting from the lounger to the water, then wallow around like a hippo, resting up for the big dash back to the big towel. I had a new suit for the trip – one that finally acknowledges the need for serious wire and uber-lycra. How I hate shopping for swimsuits. This year was worse than ever. I'm used to the whole collarbone to mid thigh area being a disaster. But through my thirties, I've had what my mother calls a 'finely turned ankle' and arms that don't shimmy. Now the whole thing seems to have gotten out of hand. My arms look like my daughter's legs. When did that happen? Ankles more or less in tact, but my 40-something friends says that within 5 years even they will look as though I'm wearing baggy tights – when I'm naked. Something to look forward to...But back to the no gambling thing – I don't need to. Tried it once, the last time I was in Vegas. I lost. Convincingly. But watching the other people gamble is like dinner theatre...
There is so much more to do there than just gamble and drink from glasses like vases. The food was amazing. My husband's highlight was sitting next to Vidal Sassoon and Tom Jones in Joel Robuchon one night. I had to speak to him sharply to stop him going over and saying hello. To Tom, not Vidal. The shows were staggering. We saw Ka, Love and Blue Man Group (didn't entirely understand the last – but I think it's because I'm not cool enough, so I'm not admitting it). Love was joyous, and everyone, everyone should see it. Gave the indoor skydiving a miss – I read the height/weight ratio rules in the small print and grew afraid that I might crush the instructor – but the others, adults and kids, all gave it a go. And very silly they looked. A hot pink nylon inflated jumpsuit is not a good look for most people. I also passed on the roller coaster at the Stratosphere – the one that shoots you off the side of the building 50 storeys up, facing the ground, in an emergency stop. I'm allergic to adrenalin, you see. (I'm not, of course. But I'm not allergic to cats either. And I sometimes say that I am because it sounds so much less lame than saying I'm totally afraid of their claws and their tiny perfect pink tongues.) Frankly it was quite terrifying enough to see my 10 year old sitting in the front row screaming her head off. Roller coasters are one of those things that aliens, if they exist, and can watch us from afar, would be most mystified by. Roller coasters and skiing.
The karma fairy exacted revenge for my cowardice though – I got the back row in the Cessna flying us all to the Grand Canyon. Which was like doing the Stratosphere rollercoaster once a minute for an entire hour, so far as I was concerned. I saw slivers of the mighty canyon between my fingers, and alternated prayers and profanities the whole way while the children whooped and pointed and jiggled. By comparison the helicopter was easy, and the boat at the bottom was a walk in the park. Too bad we had to repeat the process in reverse to get home...
I loved Las Vegas. And I'm not even whispering any more...
Las Vegas was a trip, in every sense.
Now, I don't gamble. The biggest risk I took was venturing down to the pool in my swimsuit. Although it wasn't quite as 'buns of steel and fluorescent thong' as I thought it would be. I break the landspeed record getting from the lounger to the water, then wallow around like a hippo, resting up for the big dash back to the big towel. I had a new suit for the trip – one that finally acknowledges the need for serious wire and uber-lycra. How I hate shopping for swimsuits. This year was worse than ever. I'm used to the whole collarbone to mid thigh area being a disaster. But through my thirties, I've had what my mother calls a 'finely turned ankle' and arms that don't shimmy. Now the whole thing seems to have gotten out of hand. My arms look like my daughter's legs. When did that happen? Ankles more or less in tact, but my 40-something friends says that within 5 years even they will look as though I'm wearing baggy tights – when I'm naked. Something to look forward to...But back to the no gambling thing – I don't need to. Tried it once, the last time I was in Vegas. I lost. Convincingly. But watching the other people gamble is like dinner theatre...
There is so much more to do there than just gamble and drink from glasses like vases. The food was amazing. My husband's highlight was sitting next to Vidal Sassoon and Tom Jones in Joel Robuchon one night. I had to speak to him sharply to stop him going over and saying hello. To Tom, not Vidal. The shows were staggering. We saw Ka, Love and Blue Man Group (didn't entirely understand the last – but I think it's because I'm not cool enough, so I'm not admitting it). Love was joyous, and everyone, everyone should see it. Gave the indoor skydiving a miss – I read the height/weight ratio rules in the small print and grew afraid that I might crush the instructor – but the others, adults and kids, all gave it a go. And very silly they looked. A hot pink nylon inflated jumpsuit is not a good look for most people. I also passed on the roller coaster at the Stratosphere – the one that shoots you off the side of the building 50 storeys up, facing the ground, in an emergency stop. I'm allergic to adrenalin, you see. (I'm not, of course. But I'm not allergic to cats either. And I sometimes say that I am because it sounds so much less lame than saying I'm totally afraid of their claws and their tiny perfect pink tongues.) Frankly it was quite terrifying enough to see my 10 year old sitting in the front row screaming her head off. Roller coasters are one of those things that aliens, if they exist, and can watch us from afar, would be most mystified by. Roller coasters and skiing.
The karma fairy exacted revenge for my cowardice though – I got the back row in the Cessna flying us all to the Grand Canyon. Which was like doing the Stratosphere rollercoaster once a minute for an entire hour, so far as I was concerned. I saw slivers of the mighty canyon between my fingers, and alternated prayers and profanities the whole way while the children whooped and pointed and jiggled. By comparison the helicopter was easy, and the boat at the bottom was a walk in the park. Too bad we had to repeat the process in reverse to get home...
I loved Las Vegas. And I'm not even whispering any more...
