Okay, folks…this one’s a doozie.  So, plop down in a comfy chair, put your reading glasses on and leave your judgments at the door.  I’ve returned from Vegas and boy did we do it up right.  I’ve grappled with how best to communicate my debaucherous weekend, and have decided to continue in the same rambling manner that was Nikki in Sin City.  Here goes:

MGM Signature hotel description:  Rooms and pools…and nothing else.  Unless you count the three-mile indoor hallway hike to the casino at the MGM Grand.  Which, we discovered, is not a terribly pleasing trek at 3:30 a.m. - or even at 5:00 a.m.

Nikki’s New Fashion Trend (for women with boobs):  I like cute summer dresses with skinny straps and no room to hide a bra.  Women with “A” cups or not-so-tiny “manufactured” shelf breasts look great in these.  I am neither an “A” nor a holder of saline.  Were I to wear such an outfit without support for my “fuller” woman mounds, I would spend the night obsessively glancing below to see if the bouncing about had caused one or both of my “friends” to wave hello to the outside world.  This would not only ruin my night, but possibly my career were picture or video evidence of said wardrobe malfunction to hit Girl’s Gone Wild (Vegas edition) or YouTube.  So, like any desperate fashion lover…I created my own solution.  It’s the bathing suit/bra top under the cute, strappy dress.  I liked it so much, I did it twice.  Green dress/black bikini top (Friday) - Pink dress/black bikini top (Saturday).  We’re planning a trip back to Vegas in three months to see if it caught on.  Or if I made the “Don’t” page of Glamour.  It’s a toss up.

Friday Night:  Stumble outside to find incredibly long cab line outside MGM Grand Casino (after hours of gambling and consumption and realization that we must - NOW - go to dance club Pure, located in Caesar’s Palace).

     Nikki:  “CAESAR’S?  ANYONE GOING TO CAESAR’S?  HELLO?  CAESAR’S?  ANYONE?”

     Apparently no one is going to Caesar’s…or we’ve frightened them with our shrieking pleas.  We give up and hop into an overpriced Town Car (it is Vegas…and money is no object…especially when you have a credit card to fall back on).  Good move.  Driver calls ahead to Pure, spouts off a couple of names to whisper to the bouncer and…

     Nikki:  “So…um…do people still, ya know, slip you cash to get into these places?”

     Bouncer:  “Uh huh.”  (Susan not-so-subtly slips $20 under rope.  He eyes it with pity)  “No need for the money, ladies…just give me a minute…you’re in.”  Sweet.

Hangover Revelation #1:  When you’ve stayed out til early morn and the last memory you have is being groped on the dance floor at a cheesey Vegas nightclub…you must spend the next day in a rented, poolside cabana, eating chopped fruit and drinking cold beer (purely for hydration purposes).  Throughout day, lay for two minutes in sun and then return to cabana for cover and fruit(y) cocktails.  Repeat.  Ten to twenty times.  When head stops pounding and the first sign of laughter appears, retreat to room, shower and head out for another night on the town.  Only this time, stay out until 5:00 a.m.  That makes it all better.

Saturday Night - Warning:  When you have a friend in Vegas and he has connections and he uses them to get you into really cool places, don’t let it go to your head.  Because, after you’ve been backstage at the Rush concert and have taken pictures by their gear and seen them perform from the side of the stage…and then you later saunter up to the podium outside the roped-off elevators to (hot, private club) Foundation Room, whisper your name and are immediately whisked up to the place with the coolest view on the Strip - you might make some decisions that are less like you and more like one of The Hill’s characters.  And by that I mean poorly scripted circular life moments (think the push/pull that is Audrina and Justin Bobby), where maybe the cute guy that starts talking to you eventually reveals that he will soon leave for pilot training in the Air Force.  And you continue to talk to him.  And (Dad, please skip this part) five hours later, when you’re having your first kiss in a dark bar, you realize that your life may be on a loop…because haven’t you dated this guy before (just with a different name and in another branch of the military).  And you might wonder - when it didn’t end well with the first one - why you have any interest in subjecting yourself to another.  But then you realize that this is Vegas and you’re twelve years older, and this guy is nine years younger, and you never have to see him again.  So you take a deep breath, smile, and think:  Momma’s still got it goin’ on!  Isn’t maturity great…

Hangover Revelation #2:  When you’ve consumed your body weight in alcohol and had a total of five hours of sleep in two days, the only cure is a dark bar and “one” beer.  And then “one more” beer.  And then again “one more”…until one has turned into ten - and eight hours have passed and you finally feel like you might keep your stomach contents in when you stand up to go to the ladies room for the 25th time.  Vegas is all about revelations.

DOMS/DOSS:  I can’t even go here.  It’s just too mentally draining, so I’ll have to keep it an inside joke.  Suffice to say, they are acronyms for some syndrome we coined on Saturday night that we now can’t remember.  “Daily Onset Memory Syndrome” - or “Dirty Old Manic Sailor”…your guess is as good as mine.  And, so those of us trying to remember it don’t soon find ourselves in the looney bin…we will accept any and all suggestions from outside sources.  Bring it on.

Hangover Revelation #3:  When you’re still in bed at 1:00 p.m. and there’s a knock at the door from Housekeeping, don’t answer it.  I did.

     Nikki:  Crawl from bed, hair awry, open door (one eye closed):

     Housekeeping:  Gasp! (really, I think I heard her gasp) “So sorry ma’am…will go now…so sorry!”  (Was there a naked man behind me?  No.  Did I have fire shooting from my hair.  Nope.  Although I’m sure it looked a bit like out-of-control flames).

     Nikki (to roommate Susan):  “I just scared the housekeeper.”

     Susan:  Groan.  “How?”

     Nikki:  “Have you looked at me?”

     Susan (looks at me):  Gasp!

     Nikki:  “Do you think they’d call the authorities if I never left this bed?”

     (And then hungover rambling commenced - followed by uncontrollable laughter)

     Susan (playing part of MGM Signature housekeeper):  “MA’AM! MA’AM!  You haven’t left this room in five days!  MA’AM!  Are you okay!”

     Susan and Nikki:  “Thank you.”

     Nikki (also playing part of MGM Signature housekeeper):  “MA’AM! MA’AM! Are you alright!  You’re laying in your own filth!”

     Susan and Nikki:  “Thank you.”

     Susan (as housekeeper):  “MA’AM! MA’AM!  We’ve called the Hazmat Team…they’re on their way over to help you!  Hold tight!”

     Susan and Nikki:  “Thank you.”  (See - it’s appropriate this time)  Fits of laughter, followed by lingering nausea.

Hangover Revelation #4:  Warning!  Do not order hamburger plate or chicken quesadillas (a.k.a. pulled pork concoction in crusty tortilla-type substance) in MGM Studio Cafe.  It will not have the desired result.  Refer to Hangover Revelation #2 to rectify situation.

And, finally, because Vegas is all about gambling, I have a few tips to make your experience the best it can be:

     1)  Find a kind, patient Blackjack dealer, and flirt unabashedly with those that are male (Done.  I love you Jennifer and Robert)

     2)  Play by the rules (Not done).  Here’s what I learned the hard way:

          a) Cards are now dealt face down (when did this start?)  Do not turn them over prematurely…this took me awhile and several lashes from Jennifer and Robert to figure out.

          b) Slide cards forward if you are holding…scrape them across table if you’d like to hit (but try not to slide them right off the end of the table…oops).

          c) No cell phones at table - not even for text messaging - not even if the text message is from an ex-boyfriend trying to tell you where he is.  Just walk away from the table…but probably not mid-hand…oops again.

          d) Do not - under any circumstance - spill beer on table while trying to check incoming text message on phone prohibited at table…especially if it ruins a deck of cards.

          e) When dealer Robert hands you extra chips (what did I tell you about flirting????), try to accept it without shrieking with joy…it might get Robert into trouble.

          f) Last, but certainly not least, know when to walk away (like maybe before you spill that beer).

So there you have it.  My weekend away from the moral constraints of everyday life…the good, the bad, the bikini clad, and the ugly.  No need to send me pamphlets on the twelve steps of AA.  I am gladly back to the reality of responsibility and goodness and glass-of-wine-or-two weekends.  Until next time…

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