Clareified

TOP FIVE WORST THINGS ABOUT THE LAS VEGAS TRIP

OK,OK,OK…I’m up. But thanks to Charles and Ari for wiring me the money for bail.
Of course, I’m not yet to full blogging srength. But the broad strokes are: I went to Vegas for my college Roommate, Helena’s un-bachlerotte party with my other two roommates, Emerald and Liza.

More to come when I officially get back.

Until then…as compiled over the brunch that inspired the compilation:

1. The Monorail. For five dollars per person, you get to wait ten minutes to take a rollercoaster car two minutes to your “destination.” And by “destination,” the good people of the Monorail really mean you get to walk through at least three casinos, –none of which are the casino that you are looking for—asking people in the casino uniform “hey, where is Las Vegas Boulevard?” To which they always respond: “Straight back that way,” with some non-commital flick of the arm. Twelve minutes later, an indoor bridge will take you into another casino, and you’ll get to do it again. Repeat.

2. Danny Gans. We got plenty of chances to practice our “Entertainer of Year? MY ASS” Call and response as we passed lifesized poster after lifesized poster of the Mirage headliner. Two months ago, we bought tickets for the Saturday night Danny Gans show. On Saturday afternoon, two hours before our dinner reservation at the Mirage’s Argentine restaurant, Emerald’s husband calls her to say that there was a message on the machine saying “The Danny Gans show is canceled for tonight.” Which of course begs the question, if we have tickets to see a show in Vegas on Saturday night, why would the powers that be think a message left at 3 p.m. Saturday on a machine in North Carolina will really help anybody. And so I repeat. Entertainer of the Year? MY ASS.

3. The weekday brunch at the Bellago. Insert “Damn you Rachel Rae” and fist shake. Apparently, she did a special on the 12.95 breakfast brunch at the Bellagio and did that “mmm…so good,” thing that she does. Not good. Not mmm. Not 12.95. All around a bust here.

4. The check-in line/elevators at Imperial Palace. Oy. You shouldn’t get to a hotel at 1 p.m., but not get to your room until 4:30. Although for 65 bucks a night…what did we really expect.

5. And the fifth worst thing about the Las Vegas trip is all of our memories. See,there really was a fifth worst, but I totally can’t remember. And even as we were drafting this list at the brunch table we kept forgetting one and I’ve gone and done it again. Oh well….was it the Ferrari exhibit at Wynn? Or the naked statues in the pool at the Wynn? The whole Wynn in general? I dunno…somebody help me out here. Ohhhhhhhhhhh…I remember.

5. And the really fifth worst thing about Vegas was the 10 o’clock Freemont Street Experience. Dude. Spaceships? Low flying crop planes like in Snoopy and the Red Baron? WTF? Emerald hit the nail on the head when, at the show’s end, she said:
“Huh. Maybe that’ll be better after we have a few half yards in us.”
Indeed. One football (two and a half yards for anyone counting) the light show was frickin AWESOME!

This entry was posted by Dawn Summers on Tuesday, April 4th, 2006 at 3:16 pm and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.