I've been traveling a lot. Not seeing much, but just making useful time of my vacation and days off. So many trips...where do I start.....we'll start with Vegas.
Oh me, oh my...what a wonderful city...Las Vegas. My family decided to take a trip for "Sara's Birthday," when in all reality I can say it was more for my mom and step dads pleasure. Along on this trip, I was accompanied by those two misfits, my aunt, my little sister (a whole 14 years of age) and my male cousin (an entire 15 years of age)...don't quote me on the ages...my memory ain't THAT good.
We drove. The gazillion miles it requires to drive to the wonderful city. I always vowed to never drive again...but this time I was too cheap to spend $200+ on a plane ticket...so in the Mini we go. Long....looooong....looooooooooooong drive. Hello Joshua Tree here...hello mound of dirt there. I said my hellos and good byes. I, again, have vowed never to drive this dreadful drive. Unless there is a gun pointed to my head, and even then, I think demise a better option.
We arrive. We were originally booked at The Palazo, but a few days prior to our departure, my step dad felt he needed to make an ever so brave political statement and cancel those reservations, to stay at the MGM (my home away from home...which you all should know by now). My step dad is a very Democratic man. One not to ever stray sides. Apparently the owner of The Palazo, whom is Republican, donated a bunch of money to the Republican campaign. Therefore, we can not support him. Psh, political view, schmalitical view...someday I will stay at that upscale hotel. With or without "Mr Holier Than Thou".
Back to the story...
We check in, have ourselves a wonderful first night. See "Phantom of the Opera", which I had been DYING to see since I was old enough to understand with the opera was. IT WAS AMAZING. No mishaps, no spills...everything went great. Met up with my family from southern California. Yes, that's right...it takes Vegas to reunite us. Forget the I5 and the SR99...Vegas is what'll do it. Nothing much really interesting happened between check in and the night before check out.
Skipping forward....HELLO LAST NIGHT! There I am. Bored. Extremely and utterly BORED. So, I decided to be brave and go try my hand at a slot or two (that was SLOT not SLUT...what dirty minds you people have!). I left the aunt and the cousin up in the room and wondered the vast casino floor. Casually strolling, waiting for a machine to call out to me....SARA....SAAAAAARRRRRAAAAA. Nothing. I hear a lady getting all excited as I walk passed. She turns, grabs me by the arm. "Sweetie! This machine is hitting big, and we've got to get going, or we're gonna miss our reservation. Sit here! Sit here!" So...I do. She was about elderly, as was her husband, sitting next to her at a machine in which he was not intending to play any time soon. I pulled out my wallet, remembering I only have the $100 bill my grandmother had given me as birthday money...that's when I realized it was one of those machines where you can change the amount of your bet. $1, $2, or $5...something ridiculous like that. So, in goes my last bill. $100 big ones. All in at once. I made a deal with myself...Spend $20, then move on. Meanwhile, Mrs Excited is still working on getting her husband out of the chair next to me. "Bad knees", is what I do recall him saying after the tragic event.
He attempts to stand once. Twice...even a third time. No luck. She's pulling him, attempting to rescue him from himself, and hurry him along, she was starting to get frustrated. He didn't seem like you're average "old man Fred" from down the block. He seemed like you're average "Hot Headed Joe" from the biker gang and the local Pub. Not one to be messed with. One his 4th attempt, his wife, whom I'm assuming was also pretty hard core by the look of the tattoos on her chest that popped out, along with almost half of her bosoms, he prevailed. As he's finally standing, up, erect, Mrs Excited yanked at the same time, causing Hot Headed Joe to kilter off balance. He put out a hand, to brace himself of course. And I'll be damned if my bad luck didn't set in at that exact moment in time. His hand, just so happened, to land on MAX BET button. $30. Down the hatch. No win. Nothing. A look of utter disgust floods my face as I'm getting ready to turn bright red and scream...that's when I realized, he doesn't seem the type to take anger in a positive manner. So, I change to a more gingerly tone, dancing around the confrontation. "Excuse me Sir, you're hand landed on my max bet button." His face fell. He seemed to be concerned. If he wasn't, he damn well faked it good. "Oh, I see, it did." He pulls out his wallet. He had $1. His wife had $2. Being that they were in a hurry, they didn't do any other checking. She shoved her cashout ticket in her pocket before I could see the amount. "We don't have the cash, Miss, I'm sorry. And we're going to be late for our reservation, there really isn't any way I can help you, except for to meet up with you later to repay you". At least his head was in the right spot! Not my normal luck, I usually only get an "oh well" and they move on....like the guy who ran into me in the hall way! Ass hole....back to Joe and Pearla (don't ask, I just like to call her Pearla, seems hard core and bitchy to me).
Joe: "Can I get your name and phone number? We'll give you a call as soon as we're out of our show and we can meet up and we'll bring you the money my hand spent".
I put my name and phone number in for him, cause he was having a hell of a time getting the contact information to take in his ancient beast of a phone. Just this way "559-416-**** SARA - THE GIRL WE OWE $30." Again, angry Joe expressed his apologies, then turned and hobbled off with Pearly who was already smoking another cigarette by the time they were 10 ft away.
There I sit. $30 poorer. It took every ounce of strength I had to not just burst out in laughter and tears. Run after them and follow them everywhere they went until I got my money back. I know $30 isn't really a lot of money to most, but to me, I was devastated. The single person income, at the end of the month, man, that $30 was crucial to my survival for that last week.
