Monday mornings at home are typically spent running around the house like a mad woman trying to get everyone up and fed and clothed and out the door before I stick forks in my eyes.
Monday mornings in Vegas are spent by the pool, drink in hand, laughing at the waitress as she scurries by clothed in a hoodie and heavy jacket, looking for a fork so I can eat my fresh fruit and granola and yogourt. I think this is a much better approach to Mondays. Everyone is generally happier by the pool, except for the waitress who claimed she was ‘freezing’. It was probably 20degrees out by 10am which is definitely sunbathing weather if you are from the frozen North, like we Canadians.
The pool was lovely, if overrun with tourists from the UK (several 747s worth had arrived the day before, it seemed, including these two, who really cracked me up with their crosswords and copies of Wuthering Heights.
The hotel has cabanas poolside that you can rent out for the day for a small fortune. Or, if you are us, you can just occupy one and ask for forgiveness, not permission. This is what we did and enjoyed a couple of lovely hours in the sun before heading out for some shopping.
View from the cabana.
It was tough to get up and go shopping but someone had to do it and so it may as well be us.
The hotel had given us $200 worth of gift certificates to be spent at a certain shopping mall just down the strip. Wow! we thought, How generous! we gushed. However, when we got to said mall, we found it was the highest of high end and consisted entirely of stores like Tiffany's, Fendi, Versace etc. Turns out we couldn’t even blow our noses in these stores without having to go into a back room to have your arm or leg or, if it was really fancy, both, removed before being allowed to purchase anything. Hell, we couldn’t even buy a keychain for $200 bucks and I kid you not. After about 45 minutes of wandering in and out past be-suited salespersons who looked like they would really prefer it if I would just take my flip-flopped feet and slap on out of there before I made them look any worse in front of the Asian and European tourists who were blowing their noses on $100 bills before dropping several thou on a matching tam and kilt-blanket set or whatever it was, I tried to put on my best ‘secretly I have lots of money face’ and casually meandered past the $8000 dresses, holding them out in front of me for just a little too long as if to say “really, I’m considering whether or not I could stand this shoddy piece of work or if I’m used to much better than this…”. The salesman was a piece of work too.
Salesman (looking like he really hoped I would find the back door and quickly): “Can I put that in a dressing suite for you?”
Me (holding on to a garment with a curious type of dyed wool stuck randomly all over it): “I’m not really sure what it is'…”
Salesman: “It’s a new piece featuring batwing sleeves with an empire waist, peplum detailing, and a system of hidden darts. The fabric is detailed with alpaca tail and sheep’s wool puffs. I think you’ll find it to be extremely comfortable the fabric really drapes you know.” (At least it was something like that. I lost interest at ‘Batwing sleeves’)
Me: “so it’s a pair of pyjamas”
Salesman: “Yes it is”
Me: “No thanks”
Salesman (with an audible sigh): “Let me know if I can be of assistance in any other way”
I think what he really meant was could you please fuck off now.
And so I did.
It was much better outside and we set off back to the hotel. On the way we encountered this lovely musician who was a breath of fresh air after the Mall from Hell. He made my day:
One of the things I had most wanted to do in Vegas was shoot a gun. I never have, and really what better place is there than in the good old US of A where everyone is god-fearing and gun-toting or god toting and gun-fearing or gone-fearing and gut-toting or whatever it is. There is a place on the strip where unsuspecting tourists go to shoot a machine gun but I had heard that they hold the gun for you and charge you your first-born and it’s all over in 30 seconds. So we didn't go there but instead took the recommendation of our friend Mark who told us to visit Discount Firearms. ‘It’s a little off the strip” he said, “but it’s worth it”.
So we hopped in a cab and, after some convincing of the driver, got him to take us there. I admit to becoming a little concerned when he actually said “it’s on the other side of the tracks”, and when we turned sharply away from the strip and headed off into an industrial wasteland replete with ‘Gentleman’s Clubs’ I did feel a bit wary.
When we finally pulled into a dark parking lot with a warehouse-like building and a dude sitting on the front steps drinking a beer, I think I said something like “I’m gonna kill him” (Mark. not the dude on the steps).
But there was light inside and I ran up and opened the door to find a whole slew of friendly looking types and a respectable looking gun store and so we stayed.
There ensued much laughing and excitedness, and choosing of weapons, and a bit of hesitation, and lots of listening to our dear ‘guide’ John without whom we would never have been able to do any of it. Finally, we all had our weapons of choice: Heather had a Beretta .22, Sandy a Smith and Wesson revolver .22, Joanne an Walther .22 and I had my Glock 9mil. We picked our targets, (mine was a zombie!) put on our ear and eye protection, and went in to the shooting range.
The fabulous John who at one point, rested his head against the wall and said “I’m just trying to keep everyone safe”.
This guy doubles as an Elvis impersonator and sang me a few bars of Love me Tender. Awesome!
My target.
Joanne with her shirt on backwards to avoid burning shrapnel down the cleavage…
Sandy taking aim.
Heather and her Beretta
Me and my Glock, Baby. I’m happy to report that I finished off my box of bullets and that that Zombie won’t be bothering anyone again. I am now ready for a real zombie apocalypse.
We were all on a high when we came out an hour and a half later into the cool night air. We were starving and went for some dinner, before spending the rest of our last evening roaming the hotel and casino. It was a it hard to face the fact that this was our last day and so we dragged it out as long as possible before finally returning to our rooms and reluctantly packing up for our morning departure.
But not before spending some time in the hotel gift shops which was way more entertaining than I had anticipated. Stay tuned!
Thanks for reading
Cheers,
Jane
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