Mamas Don’t Let Your Babies Grow up to be Call Girls

Yesterday I returned home from my first trip to Las Vegas.  The occasion? My 20th High School Reunion!  Yes, I am officially an old hag.  It was so much fun to see all of my old friends again.  Seems like another era that we were together at school.  Well, I guess it was another era.  Anyway, we had a great time catching up and it was really fun to reconnect.

The Strip?  Now that is another story.  It took me about three full minutes to figure out that this was not the place for me.  We stayed at the Cosmopolitan.  It is a beautiful hotel but that does not keep the riff raff out.  And there was some serious riff raff up in this joint.  I saw so many girls that I just wanted to walk up to and say, “WTF!!!!!????? were you thinking when you got dressed today?  Now go put on some damn clothes, woman!”  Many visitors (or residents) to the Vegas Strip are nothing but a bunch of sexually frustrated people who have reached adulthood physically, but mentally…not even close.  Seven out of 10 humans that I saw there were one chromosome away from attracting a mate by gladly displaying their multi-colored asses.

And just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse, I looked down from the balcony of my very expensive hotel suite on the 39th floor (which was absolutely gorgeous, by the way) to the pool below.  This is no ordinary pool, folks.  It is the Marquee Club.  From approximately 11 am to exactly 4 am (yes, four in the effing morning!) this place is a showcase of the mating behavior that I outlined in the previous paragraph, with added features.  First of all, there is music playing in this club that is loud enough to induce teeth grinding in a deaf person.  I tried laying in my cozy little hotel bed to read my book like a total prude nerd who was hiding from the nasty people in Las Vegas would, but when I was really still I could actually FEEL vibration from this synthesized techno wannabe fake music moving my bed.  On the 39th floor.  Looking down at the men and women dancing in the pool (On tables in the pool and under waterfalls. CHARMING!) my only thought was, “I wonder what STD’s can survive in that pool water and for how long?”  At 3:06 am my only thought was, “Please let these drunk people drown in the pool so they can close early and I can go the F*#K to sleep.”

When my alarm went off at 6am Sunday morning, I brushed my teeth, picked up my bags which I had packed the night before in anticipation of getting the hell outta this place, and headed down to the lobby to check out.  Imagine the look of shock and awe on my face when the elevator doors opened to a casino full of drunk people, stumbling around, some crying (no, I am not making this up), most up all night still looking for a hook-up.  One girl was passed out in a wheelchair and totally unresponsive.  Another guy was passed out on a couch in the lobby.  Like, dead-looking passed out.  The quasi-emergency training that comes with having a physician for a best friend told me to ask, “Is this a medical emergency?  Somebody go dial 9-1-1!”  Instead I was like, Whatever.  I asked my husband, “Is this for real?”  The answer, sadly, is yes, it was for real.

I complained to the nice lady behind the desk about the music and suggested that maybe they should disclose to their guests that this hotel is not for people who actually plan to SLEEP in their rooms.  She did as she was trained to do and said, “I’m sorry.”  And we were in our Suba-Rocket and on the 15 heading home to paradise at 6:27am.  Hallelujah.

You will notice that there are no photos in this post to document my time in Vegas.  I could not and would not do that to you, dear reader.  The trauma would be too severe.

I must say, there were a few good things about my visit.  First, seeing my friends from High School was a treat.  Second, we found a really awesome NY style pizza place on the 3rd floor of the Cosmopolitan.  There is no sign.  I don’t even know what the place was called.  It’s down a little unmarked alley and they have really good pizza.  A couple of slices and a bottle of Roderer in our room the first night, a couple of slices and a bottle of Veuve in our room the second night, and I was a happy girl, except for the techno trash coming from the Marquee Club.  Third cool thing is that we took a back road on the way to Vegas and saw three antelope and a golden eagle.

On our way home we stopped in Boron for breakfast.  This was a seriously gutsy move for my non-risk taking self.  Found a place called K&L Corral with a bunch of cars parked out front and went inside.  Great breakfast, dirt cheap, nice people.

Home by 2pm and back to my farm chores with my man-eating dogs by my side.  Bliss.

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5 responses

  1. Hilary, You are seriously a good writer !! I felt like I was there in Vegas
    with you..Thankfully, It was just a vicarious trip to the strip 🙂 I have
    been there once and that will do it for me!
    Thanks for sharing!

  2. Hillarious – seriously I felt I was right there with you in reading this. I have been to Vegas and everytime I get sucked in – excited to go there and then cannot wait to get out of there. Have a Great Week and good luck on catching up on your sleep!

  3. Crazy, dirty, nasty place! Better yet, “Don’t let your babies grow up to be sleaze balls.”. Keep them away from the strip. Yeeeee-Haaa!

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