The past three days I was in Las Vegas with Milca, her dad, her Nona (grandmother), her uncle, her aunt. Her aunt and Nona don’t speak english, so my spanish has been getting a bit better these past few weeks, these last three days especially. The drive up wasn’t too bad, but I now understand why people fly. The drive to Burbank along with any shenanigans at the airport would be a hell of a lot easier to deal with, even if it is a bit more costly.
We stayed at the Sahara, which was pretty ghetto as far as the hotels on the strip go. The room was cheap, though, and it was close enough to the non-ghetto hotels and casinos which made the trip affordable and entertaining. I went to a variety of the casinos (MGM, Caesar’s Palace, Mandalay Bay, Paris, New York New York, Treasure Island, The Mirage, The Bellagio, The Monte Carlo, etc) and had a good time in each of them, losing a fair amount of money in blackjack and stuffing my face in a few buffets. My only complaint, and this isn’t some rant about smokers, was the smoke indoors. I know, I know, it’s part of Vegas. Gamble, drink, smoke, and see lots of boobies. Milca and I both got sick, her more than I, with sore throats, runny noses, and the like, and it was largely due to the smokers. I guess some sort of smoke free sanctuary would have been appreciated, like in restaurants, you know? Non-smoking blackjack so I don’t have to deal with that bastards cigar.
At any rate, I had a good time, got to see Dafe, and hope to go back, but not too soon, at least not for recreation. A wedding would get me there, but not an idle “Hey, let’s go to Vegas!”
p.s. “Master Magician” Lance Burton sucks my ass. I had several of his tricks pegged instantly. He had a juggler, whose name escapes me, who was much more entertaining and made the show worth while.