A Vegas Stopover

Ellen loves Las Vegas. She loves the energy, the luxury, and the oozing riches to be found. I personally abhor the place. It's not the substance abuse, gambling, and naked people that I can't stand. It's the crowds, prices, and incessant dinging and bopping from machines lit by a neon glow. I hate when you're walking along in a mob of people and the person in front of you suddenly stops and you crash into the back of them. I hate being touched by the corners of stranger's shopping bags or their sticky children. I hate when I think I'm talking to Brett but when I turn my head, someone else is there and he's five people back being swallowed by the mass. 
I'm also still mad that a half quesadilla cost me $20. 

The family stopped in Las Vegas for two days on our way to a tropical vacation. We needed to take break from staying home and watching the news. Lee had never been to Vegas, so he and Ellen dropped Olivia off with her grandparents, and they set out a day early to experience the madness. I don't know much about what went on until the rest of us arrived the next day. Mom, Dad, Brett, and I climbed aboard a flight full of drunken partiers and flew to Vegas. We got a car to take us to the hotel and while we sat in the back, musing about the flight, our driver pulled off the main road, parked in a nondescript lot, and then jumped out of the car, heading for the door to back seat. In the time it took me to think, "He's going to kill us," Mom exclaimed, "This is some kind of mob hit!" which only served to confirm my suspicions. He opened the door next to Dad and we all looked at the driver like frightened children. I thought to lunge across Dad's body, to protect him from the bullet, but I was worried I'd embarrass myself. 

"You want anything from the liquor store?" the driver asked a befuddled Dad. Turns out it's part of this company's schtick to get champagne for its dimwitted passengers. 

I've been to Vegas a few times and each visit has felt like a mandated survival mission. Too many sounds and smells and sights. I feel overwhelmed, as well as oddly concerned that someone will stick me with a heroine needle if I pass too close. Brett told me that's preposterous because no one would waste their heroine on a stranger, but it did nothing to soothe my concerns. While we were here, we mostly all just wandered around and then gathered for suppers. We had some great meals, filled with gut-busting hilarity. 

One day, while the gals went for afternoon tea, 

the fellas went for Top Golf. 

Ellen, Dad, and Brett took to a game of Craps while Lee became fixated on a couple across the table. Lee was convinced the woman was a hooker. "I've never seen one in real life!" he declared. Lee really studied her. "Her shoes. They're high but not obvious." I took in his musings. "The nails. What do you think?" There was no real cause to accuse the woman of such an existence. Sure, they didn't really act like a close couple, but they were both dressed nicely, and played a polite few rounds of Craps. Hookers don't have time for that. But before I knew it, Lee had convinced me too and we did our best to watch without staring. We'll never know the truth. 

On our last night, as we walked the strip to a tasty Italian restaurant, we walked by a man that had passed out, face-down on the sidewalk. While my family tried to convince me that he just drank too much and didn't make it back to his hotel, I was certain he was dead. I watched for a rising inhale but never saw one. 
"He's just sleeping. He's in that comfy position!" Mom said. 

My family strolled on past this helpless, sick human to make it to their next hearty meal. Meanwhile I endured mental turmoil, wanting to help such a person or call an ambulance but also not touch him (in case of needles) or experience anything unpleasant. I expressed my concern. 

"Lu, the guy made a lot of bad decisions to get to that place."
"Oh, he'll wake up and go home. Don't worry about him."
"I'm sure he's done this many times."

These are the things my family told me while they slurped down decadent noodles and fish so pristine it need not be cooked. "That's someone's baby," I said in response to my family as they glugged sparkling water and cleansed their palates with fruit. I worried about that guy all night. My family had a great time but that dead man on the sidewalk really ruined my meal.

If you're wondering about that whole deadly virus bit, Covid doesn't come to Vegas. Everyone knows that. There's a bubble of sinful fumes around Vegas that keeps out anything that could change its ways. Folks were supposed to wear masks indoors but only about half did. People were supposed to maintain their six feet of clearance but no one did. We heard lots of people complaining about the masks, and the hand sanitizing stations were nearly ignored. I decided we were all going to come home with covid. 

On Monday morning, we all woke up at 4:00am, shimmied into our duds, and hopped on a plane to Hawaii.