What Happens In Vegas...

... Stays in Vegas?

Well, sometimes it does. Sometimes you bring it home with you.

But more on that in a moment...

I spent 4 glorious days staying up too late, eating too much good food, and sleeping until my body woke up naturally. It was heaven. We watched "Rent" and "The Fountain" (both great movies I had missed out on in the theater). We gambled at Bally's and drank "Pink Cadillacs" at Jimmy Buffet's Margaritaville lounge, under the cooling spray of the overhead misters. We ate amazing sushi at Momo, then ate more of it (plus some fantastic, fresh sliced, garlic salmon sashimi) at the $15 all-you-can-eat lunch at Sushi Club.

On my last day, the amazing and lovely (as always) Dr. Allie-sahn set me off in her car to seek out the shopping mall and movie theater. I saw Spiderman 3 (I give it a B- over all) and spent too much on salt scrub and body butter. I had no intention of buying salt scrub OR body butter, but the Ukranian woman who cornered me in the mall was a wicked svengali. She wove a hypnotic tale of dead sea minerals and made my hands really soft. Before I knew what had happened, she was running my credit card and handing me a bag of cosmetic whoozits. Dazed, I finally managed to escape the web when she tried to rub something on "all those wrinkles under your eyes!" Apparently a strange woman touching my face was apparently more scary than the thought she might put a hex on my grandchildren, because I hastily conjured up a tale of sensitive skin and prescription face cream as I slowly backed away. Still a bit dizzy, I headed for a little Starbucks therapy and the nearest shoe store.

It was an amazing parade of humanity in Las Vegas. The casinos are neat and all, and I'm always up for a hot Centurion copping a feel on ye olde bedonkadonk.


But the hilights of the trip for me (aside from, obviously, spending time with my oldest and dearest friend... and, of course, the sushi. Holy fishpaste, Batman, the sushi!) Were seeing the M&M World store and, even more, checking out "Bodies: The Exhibition". I thought it would be macabre, but it was like walking into an anatomy textbook. Fascinating, thought provoking, and life-affirming in an odd way. It helped, of course, to have a medical student along to guide the tour. When Allie mentioned dissecting the male anatomy and removing the testicles, the look on the faces of the guys standing next to us was priceless. Of course, they immediately wanted to know more about all the rest of the exhibits, too. Rocker that she is, she answered their questions with patience, humor, and grace.

It was also really cool to see the actual "non-smoker vs. smoker" lungs in a case. Next to it, the exhibition provided a clear plastic receptacle with a cigarette pack-sized hole so people could toss away their smokes. I watched one guy in his mid-twenties study the twisted, black lung tissue of the smoker lungs before dropping in his pack of Camels on top of 50 or 60 other discarded packs. Who knows if it will stick, but it was groovy to be part of his momentary optimism.


I capped off my existential journey by exercising my god-given right as an American to consume mass-produced-crap, buying post cards and fridge magnets to bring back as souvenirs. I wished I could bring Allie and her husband, the Amazing Wonder Steve, home with me, too. But as they say... What happens in Vegas... Stays in Vegas.

Of course, sometimes? What happens in Vegas comes home with you.

And sometimes it is in your nose.


Oh, yes, my friends. Mama went and got her nose pierced. In Vegas. At a tattoo parlor called "The Precious Slut". It's a teensy-weensy little diamond stud. It was also a not-so-teensy-weensy declaration of mini-van independence.

I already broke the news to my own Mama. I can feel her hands twitching with the desire to remove it - all the way from Africa. But she loves me, and to keep her sanity I suspect she will eventually write it off of as one more of my crazy, liberal eccentricities. Like belief in global warming and allowing the kids to run naked in the sprinklers.


I can't say enough thanks to Allie and the Amazing Wonder Steve for having me out, or to T for sending me. Whenever I start to feel like the zany, madcap moxie of my youth is all but spent, I will look back on this trip and remember that I still know how to strap on my adventure shoes and set out to make a ruckus. And that my family, though they missed me desperately (or so they assure me) survived without me for a few days and emerged, mostly unscathed, to tell the tale.

Viva Las Vegas, Baby.