Friday, June 17, 2005

My best no-I-wasn’t-even-drunk Vegas story

A couple years ago, a couple of friends and I had planned to go to Vegas for a weekend. And because it was my friend, Adam’s first trip to the eternal city, we decided that we had to stay somewhere fabulous (within budget constraints) on the strip – and what’s more fabulous than the pyramid?

My friends both had to work on Friday so they were going to fly up that night, but I took the day off and drove (sidenote – the drive from Phoenix to Vegas is one fuck of a boring, featureless drive – especially if you’re alone). I check into the hotel, all excited because I get to ride the sideways elevator and then lounge around the postage stamp sized room until it starts to get dark outside and I need to start getting ready to pick them up at the airport

As per usual, my “getting ready” routine consists of straightening my hair, putting on too much eyeliner and dancing around the hotel room half naked. In the middle of my dance routine, I get distracted by the lights coming on outside (oooh, something sparkly) and I stop cabbage patching and stand at the tilted window, wearing jeans and no shirt, marveling at the majesty that is the strip. For half a second, I wonder if anyone can see inside the room from outside, then decide that no, in all the pictures I’ve ever seen of the pyramid you can’t see inside the rooms.

So I finish dancing, I mean, getting ready, grab my purse and head out to the parking lot so I can pick up my friends and we can commence drinking. I’m almost to my car and I happen to look up at the hotel and see, much to my chagrin, that you can see clearly into each and every single room.