Our heroine, Worf’s Baby Mama is a 32 year old female who has never been described as the life of the party. Her friends are curious as to why she wants to visit Vegas since she does not drink, gamble or stay out all hours of the night. Worf’s Baby Mama is in Vegas to meet up with her very good friend from the military. This lucky friend has received a comped stay at Caesar’s Palace as well as tickets to see Celine Dion.
Worf’s Baby Mama arrives in Las Vegas around 830PM after a long, annoying flight from Washington, DC. Aboard the aircraft is a three year old who shouted and whined the entire flight. The parents of this toddler are young 20-somethings who have difficulty getting the child under control. Worf’s Baby Mama does not drink but is considering a double shot of Tequila to calm her nerves.
And so our story begins….
I don’t care much for children and was thoroughly annoyed by the time I got off the plane. The evil flight attendant made me check my bag in DC because the overhead bins were full by the time I was allowed to board. If the airline hadn’t jumped on this checked bag fee thing then we wouldn’t be in this mess, but I promise I am not going to get in a tirade about that.
Already I am off to a bad start. Even worse, I got tunnelled by the cab driver. I tried my best to tell him not to take me through the bloody tunnel but he started up on this long-winded speech about how he used to be in the military and he came to Vegas on leave one weekend and never left. He wouldn’t shut up and I couldn’t interject and the cab ride from the airport to the Luxor was almost $25. I am on a tight budget because I am just off a Hawaiian vacation and my bank account is starting to look like the Federal Reserves: empty. To add insult to injury he gives me VIP club tickets to JET. I’m thinking that I’m getting something really cool so I don’t feel so bad I got tunnelled but I realise how utterly worthless these tickets are. Even the vagrants can get VIP tickets. : (
The check-in for Luxor was pretty long but I didn’t mind it. I was upgraded to a Deluxe room in the east tower. The view was garbage but I liked the room. There were a few minor annoyances. A few of the wall sockets did not work. It took me an hour to figure out why my laptop battery was draining even though it was supposedly plugged in. Second, the hotel offers wired internet service. The ethernet cord is plugged in behind the television, across from the bed. The cord does reach all over the room but unless you are standing up at the television with your laptop, the cord will stretch across, causing a trip hazard. If there was someone else in the room with me, like some kind of hottie, he might trip over it. But if I did have a hottie in the room with me, I probably wouldn’t be on my laptop.
Anyway, I set myself up immediately. I walked across the street to the AM/PM to get a jug of water and a bottle of wine. I mentioned that I don’t really drink. I am an oenophile, but I don’t mess with hard liquor or beer. It’s just cheaper to buy a bottle of wine (or the poison of your choice) at a liquor store than to buy drinks at the bar, but everybody does their own thing. Some people enjoy the experience of $11 a drink, plus tip.
You know they say that flying east is a beast, but for me flying west is horrible. By the time I got back to the hotel I was absolutely exhausted. I think it looks bad to go to bed earlier than midnight in Vegas and I tried, I really did but I ended up crashing by 1145.
At approximately 4AM, I awoke to screaming and shouting and a loud banging noise. New Jersey Steve and his friends had returned to their room after a night of imbibing and partying. How did I know this man’s name was Steve? Well, because his friends started shouting, “Steve! Steve! Steve! Steve!” leading me to believe that Steve was chugging something, or involved in a cage match. Enthused by all the excitement, I began to shout “Steve! Steve! Steve!” as well, until I realised that I was not invited to the party.
Steve was very obviously from New Jersey. His accent was thick despite his drunken speech. Steve and his friends partied for about another hour, but I didn’t bother going back to sleep.
Instead, I got comfortable in bed and did some homework. Yeah, I know. Who comes to Vegas and does homework? I do. I know. I know. You don’t have to say it. My life is sad.
Tomorrow: Grand Canyon, the “dead” man at Starbucks and a cod piece.