Happily Ever After: Two Wedding Stories

What's Really Under a Scottish Kilt

First, we discover the mystery of what lurks beneath the Scottish Kilt. It's 9-9-09, which apparently makes for an anniversary date easy for even a man to remember. That means everywhere you turn in Vegas -- couples are getting hitched. We meet a lovely Scottish couple that just flew 24-hours with a 1-year-old to get married in one of their favorite cities.

Mr. and Mrs. Ross and Gillian Stuart were tasking pics in front of the famous Las Vegas sign with their wedding party. PARTY being the operative word. They are quite literally having a ball. Letting it all hang out. You get the idea. Check out the kid in front of the third guy from the left.


That little red head grabbed hold of the willy behind him swinging to and fro ... and held on. I swear -- the guys eyes got as big as saucers and he jumped about five feet backward. I was laughing so hard I almost dropped my camera.


Flat Stanley Says "I DO"

Good old Flat Stanley was left unattended for too long in Vegas. He snuck out for a night on the town. Now he says he's in love, but we're skeptical. I know what happens in Vegas is supposed to stay there, but I think he might be bringing home one heck of a souvenir.

Meet Flat Sally ... Stanley's new wife.

Dear Tom ...

Ok, Mr. Colicchio.

I had high expectations. This was the one thing Dana REALLY wanted to do when she came to Vegas, and I wanted your steak to knock her socks off. Or rock her socks off.

Whatever -- I digress.

We both watch Top Chef, although I'll admit she's a die-hard fan who never misses a show, and I'm just happy when I catch reruns. We ordered the Chef's Fall Tasting Menu. The portions were generous; the quail and scallops delicious.

But this is CraftSTEAK, and I'm not sure this beef passed muster.

I'd considered ordering the full beef tasting, but at $255 per person -- I would kind of expect you might dance naked on the table while we're eating. Or at the very least, cut and feed me each morsel.

Anyway ... don't be too hard on the next round of contestants or I'll be forced to tell. I heard from our waiter that you pay well and are an all-around nice guys, so redeeming.

I'll try again ... but maybe in NYC.

Amy

Alcohol & Hot Dogs Don't Mix

Our waiter at breakfast, Joshua, is so friendly I thought he might pull up a chair and join us. I have what appears to be a bucket of oatmeal. There really is such a thing as too much fiber.

After, we take the monorail to the Luxor and Mandalay Bay. The shark exhibit at Mandalay Bay is about $18 per person. The lion exhibit at our hotel is free. My lions can take your freaking sharks anytime. We head to the Luxor, where Eric is greatly disappointed to find that Ra is now LAX. Vegas is full of change, except when you leave.

Then there's no change left in your pockets.

I want to check out New York New York because the frozen cocktails last night led to my inherent inability to remember being there less than 24 hours ago. Dana decides to head back for some hot hot pool action. As Eric and I wander the casino floor toward the roller coaster, where Deja Vu hits. Damn it. I don't want to ride the same overpriced roller coaster twice ... so we head out to walk the strip.

We go in a few kitchy little shops. I see this little figuring of a man blowing bubbles -- with his butt. I think it may be the coolest thing I've seen in Vegas.  Check out the video:

We discover that if Eric and I lived in sin, we'd have gotten a great discount to go see the Blue Man Group. A female M&M manhandles me at the M&M store. Then our search for a clean bathroom for me leads us to Gameworks. Eric's logic being that it must be clean since no girls would ever go there. Now the men's restroom -- that's another story.

For some reason we decide, of all the places to eat in Vegas, that we'll order Kobe beef hot dogs at Gameworks. Alcohol plus Gamework's unmentionable meat products equals disaster. Thankfully, I only eat half of mine. Sadly, I give the other half to Eric. By later in the evening, he's shivering uncontrollably under the covers, holding his tummy. Poor guy.

Grandma and her brother -- whom she has not seen in almost 25 years -- have a lovely reunion. She didn't recognize him at first. I walk toward a man standing with a younger woman, convinced he must be related to her since they look so much alike. She's still not sure ... until he takes his hat off. Then there's big hugs and introductions. I've never met my Great Uncle Art before, nor his daughter -- my cousin -- Penny. I like them immediately.

They take off to catch up while I go to try and catch up with Dana poolside. Either her phone or mine is acting as a black hole for text messages, so I can't find her. I lay in the sun for a while and then head back up to the room. Later, we drive around trying to find the original Vegas sign, but it proved difficult. Though I will say that en route I see the funniest damn billboard ever:

Really? How many male readers think having surgery anywhere near your "junk" is easy? I'm dumbfounded, but it reminds me of another crazy billboard I saw on the way in to town for a company called Ticket Busters. Their phone number was 666-6666. I wonder if you have to sell your soul to the devil get out of a DUI in Sin City. Thankfully, I haven't been drinking. 

Yet.

Tonight ... dinner at Tom Colicchio's Craftsteak.

Hotter Than Dutch Love

Made a 50% recovery last night ... aided by booze.  I may have also accidentally taken a muscle relaxer instead of the allergy medication I was shooting for, which would account for my being somewhat comatose for the balance of the evening.  

Went to the Excalibur and took nefarious pictures with Sponge Bob where he appears to be looking at my bosom.  Then on to New York New York for a $14 roller coaster ride that lasted all of five minutes.  Tried to buy frozen daiquiris in a cowboy boot, but they were out.  My friend Ahn Ei (ahn-eee) says drinks just taste better out of a boot.   Dana adds a story about how rugby players drink beer out of their shoes.  I silently thank God I never played rugby.

We tried to break into the pool.  No luck. Went to a Mexican restaurant where they made guacamole table side that was so hot you could barely eat it.  If you know me, you know that's saying something.  I like it hot.  Went back to room for a nap where I called the concierge to ask if they could open the pool for us.  No luck.  We tried to break in to Studio 54.  No luck.

Let's blow this popsicle stand.

We head to Freemont Street where I decide Subway sounds good.  Wanted to see the famous Vegas sign, only to find it's on the other end of the strip.  Eric asks us to point out what a hooker looks like, but seems just as happy to find signs touting 99 cent shrimp cocktail and deep fried Twinkies. 

We head to the Stratosphere, where the cabby tells us the about life in Vegas.  He's from Holland.  Eric calls it the Netheregions.  Dana is always saying, "It's hotter than Dutch love."  I ask the driver how hot Dutch love really is.  He says something about a Dutch oven that I can't remember. The rides at the Stratosphere are closed, but we discover an all-you-can-drink happy hour we should definitely avoid.

The taxi driver on the way back to MGM Grand was hysterical.  Eric asks him who has the best hamburgers.  To Eric's delight (I think he might have started to cry), he replied In & Out Burger.  The driver says McDonalds is the worst. He said you have two choices after eating there -- a gallon of Pepto or a roll of toilet paper.

Check out our video at In & Out Burger:

It's about 2:30 am when we get back to the hotel and into bed.

It's about 6:30 am when the alarm on my phone goes off.

Amy Did a Bad Bad Thing

I am in a crappy mood. Actually, crappy is an understatement.

After waiting in line three different times to get checked into the rooms, and foraging for shrimp coffee, I can't seem to pull myself out from the depths of stinky attitude falling all around me.

It's raining crap ... and I am a poo sandwich (pardon the French.)

I think being overtired coupled with over stimulation in the form of Vegas is taking its toll. My poor little boyfriend and BFF are trying to make the best of it, and administer CPR to my mood -- but it ain't working. I just can't seem to shake it. I feel terrible, and if you could crawl under a bed and hide -- I just might. But you know those hotel beds ... they have those stupid boxes under them. Maybe I can hide in the closet. It's bigger than my bathroom at home.

Mom called. I think she's either drunk or gambling away her life savings in some dingy casino. Grandma is holed up in casa de room. We brought her roasted pepper soup and bread for dinner. Sounds more like jail, but she seems to be happy. I took a long bath and am going to start getting ready while my pals try and sleep for a while. Maybe if I sneak down to the bar and do a few shots I'll get this frown turned upside down

Thankfully, Vegas is a round-the-clock affair ... so maybe we can make the most of it yet.

Cross your fingers.

Shrimp Scampi Coffee

I don't think it's right when your mother finds a shrimp tail at the bottom of her coffee cup. Here's a play-by-play:

MOM: What do you think that is?

DANA: What?

MOM: I just pulled that out of my coffee cup.

DANA: (leaning in for a closer inspection) Eeew.

(MOM pokes it around on her plate with a fork.)

DANA: I think it's a shrimp. N0 -- it IS a shrimp. Look (pointing) ...there's the tail. I think I want to throw up (she says, eyeing her own coffee with a look of disgust.)

MOM: Well ... it didn't kill me (she says, drinking the rest of the coffee.)

She said it didn't taste different, but that the second shrimp-free cup was much better. Maybe it's good luck in some other culture I'm not aware of? The "Island Buffet" at the Tropicana was not worth your time. Ugh.

Speaking of luck ... I get the coolest fortune in my cookie last night. It reads: "An enjoyable vacation is awaiting you near the mountains."

Never Wake A Sleeping Grandma

You thought sleeping babies were cute ... check out a sleeping Grandma. I mentioned how we think she's shrinking on this trip? The lack of sleep, miles and miles of walking through caves and wilderness, and road wear and tear have turned her into Grandma Button. I expect her to be pocket-sized by the time we get back home.

The place we stayed last night was awesome -- this lodge operating under the guise of a Quality Inn. It was right at the base of the road to the Grand Canyon -- about an hour away -- had teepees, tennis courts, horses and really quaint rooms. And a fan in the bathroom. Highly recommended.

On the drive to the Grand Canyon, the are flocks of sheep props lining the road. The weird thing is, they're all facing in the same direction. We pull into the gas station for a fill up. We're down a quarter tank and the girls are having an anxiety attack about running out of gas. Apparently they don't understand that the 60 miles in plus the 60 miles out is 120 miles. That means we'll need less than a half a tank. The girls defy logic. Want to know what else defies logic? The fact that all the cars at the gas station are also pointed in the same direction. Baaaaaa ...

We're looking for tumble weeds. Grandma says when they came out West in the 1950's (she talks about this a LOT -- but I'll save that story for later), she wanted Grandpa to strap one to the top of the car and take it home. He refused. Mom says not to worry -- we'll bring her one home and then she can spray it with glitter paint. Frankly, I don't get it. But I know one thing -- we don't have any rope. Can you imagine us driving the balance of our 8,000 miles with a tumbleweed duct taped to the top of the car?

The topography is so flat, I can barely imagine that the Grand Canyon will be all that GRAND. Gram says, "You just wait." Patience must be a virtue you acquire with white hair. It's a beautiful sunny and nearly cloudless day, yet when we arrive, it's pretty hazy over the canyon. It is still really pretty ... for a gargantuan hole in the ground. Still, despite the crap weather, I'm more in awe of Sedona's red rocks. Oh, Sedona -- why did you forsake me?

We stop along the old Route 66 for lunch at some little hole-in-the-wall diner. The food was mediocre, but the indignant stares we received when we enter ... priceless. I don't think they cared to have us there. Must be from New Mexico.

I get a short nap in the car before Mom pulls to a screeching halt in front of a cell phone tower. We haven't had good cell service for a few days. I suppose if we'd had Verizon there would be a semi full of tech support behind us at every turn. Mom tells me to make our reservations for the night since we're getting into Vegas a day early. Thankfully, we get into the MGM Grand -- which is where we are staying for the balance of our stay. Done and done, but now I can't go back to sleep. Thwarted again.

Mom pulls over at the Hoover Dam so I can get a quick pick of Stanley, and also have me drive the rest of the way. My BFF (that means Best Friend Forever, in case you don't speak acronym) Dana and boyfriend Eric are already in town and having cocktails. I feel the slight sting of jealousy, especially since the check in process is so freaking gruelling. The rooms are nice, though. We get checked in and go pick up their stuff at Candlewood Suites -- the hotel Dana got free with her airline ticket. She was so afraid of the bedspread she spread towels on it before getting on the bed. She's staying with us. We forget Eric's shoes. Dana gives me the most fabulous birthday presents -- including a sash that I have to wear that says "It's My Birthday -- Spoil Me" and a tiara that says "Goddess."

Dinner at PF Chang's and would you BELIEVE -- back to the room to go to bed. We are all exhausted.

What happens in Vegas is pretty uneventful tonight, but I'm looking forward to getting spoiled tomorrow.