Vegas, Baby, Vegas: Sunday Susurrations

So, on to part two. I’ve been brow-beaten by at least one person today who expressed a marked lack of confidence that I’d get around to posting this, so here it is. I won’t mention who that person was, but I would like to shout out a big ol’ "In your face, Martha Sacrinty!!"

Sunday morning, in lieu of attending a service to worship our Creator, the six of us instead had breakfast at IHOP, though we did remember to say grace. This allowed Shelly and I to rise late, since we met at ten and the IHOP was just a bit down the street from the Stratosphere.

The little restaurant had quite a high opinion of itself, as evidenced in this picture:

This little adventure featured the first of our day’s amusements, as Milt took a series of bums under his wing, buying breakfast for one (who then complained about the lack of fries), and providing fuses for another (who had expressed a need for them for his broken down car, then looked totally nonplussed by the vast array of fuses Milt produced from his toolbox). It was almost like they were requesting money for purposes other than those stated, but I won’t take such a dim view of humanity as to assume that. Also, the whole experience lent itself to awkward questions, such as "If this is the 'best' of Las Vegas, what horrors lurk outside the worst spots in town?" Dread Cthulhu, perhaps?

Following the Itinerant Incident, as it came to be called, the six of us made tracks south, to check out the rest of the strip. The first place we went (after an extended period of scattering and regrouping, necessitated in part by ticket purchases and Shelly’s speed bump aversion) were the Forum Shops at Caesar’s Palace, where we walked around, took in sights, and just barely avoided purchasing a pair of Coach shoes. Here’s a picture:

After departing the Shops, the six of us hotel hopped south down the Strip, which was necessary due to the 105 º heat. Fortunately, helpful vendors lined the street; the most directly helpful was the one dispensing water at $1 a bottle, though I’d be remiss not to mention the myriad others handing out time share info and flyers of a less mentionable nature.

We hit the Eiffel Tower casino (though didn’t pay the exorbitant $10 fee to ride to the top) and gradually made our way down to our final destination of the MGM Grand, though we did manage to visit the Coca Cola shop and a Mickey D’s along the way (where Milt treated everyone to much-needed ice cream cones). At the MGM, we got to see the lion enclosure; here’s a shot of that:

About 30 seconds after this picture was taken, the lioness took a squat right over our heads. The mystique of the Queen of the Jungle was quite effectively broken.

Shortly thereafter, the six of us went our separate ways; Heather and Milt hit the road for home, while Jen and Tim headed back to their hotel so Jen could lie down. Shelly and I caught the Las Vegas monorail back to the Sahara, which was a short walk away from our own hotel, so we could get ready for our own evening.

What did we do that night? Well, after paying the reasonable sum of $56 for an all you can eat buffet at Planet Hollywood, Shelly took me to a… musical. How to describe it? Well, it was a very creative retelling of classic fairy tales, the most prominent of which was Little Bo Peep, starring Kelly Monaco. Alas, no cameras were allowed, so I can't share any of it with you. Suffice it to say that Shelly has managed to completely wipe the slate clean on her musical selections- any previous quarrels I had with them are forgiven and forgotten.

After the show, Shelly rebuffed my attempts to quickly get her back to the hotel, instead insisting on hanging around the southern Strip to watch the fountain show outside of the Bellagio, which was set to Lee Greenwood's "Proud to be an American". After watching two such showings (the second was set to some opera music, which Shelly liked better), we entered the casino so Shelly could look around. Very nice, as I'm sure you can imagine.

Finally, after another two hours or so, we caught the monorail back again and called it a night.

Monday, divest of other companions, Shelly and I took it easy and mostly just hung out by the pool. The lower pool, that is- apparently, Stratosphere also has a 'top-optional' pool on the 25th floor, but we didn't make it up that way. Later on in the evening, we took one final advantage of our day pass on the monorail and trekked down to the Venetian, though by then were were quite sick of the 'clever' announcements that come on over the monorail speakers as you travel. Fortunately, that was our last trip on the thing, as we later took a cab back from there.

In the Venetian, we looked around at the various shops, and I couldn't again prevent Shelly from procuring a pair of shoes, though this was simply a $10 pair of sandals to make walking a bit easier for her. Also, we ran into Wolverine, who consented to be photographed with Shelly, though he kept his guard up:

After a dinner at Wolfgang Puck's restaurant in the Venetian, the two of us decided to call it a night and headed back to the hotel for last time.

The next morning, we got up bright and early, checked out, and taxied over to the airport. We were fortunate to make it onto the return flight to RDU, though we sat in the very, very last row of the plane and across the aisle from each other. Shelly slept at least half the flight; I found it slightly more difficult to nod off, what with people hovering over me as they waited to use the bathroom, and every other person banging into my elbow as they passed. Fortunately, at the other end, we found a receptive Erika and Charlotte, both eager to see us home.

Alright, that's the Vegas trip, then. Don't say I didn't tell you.