It has been years since I took a vacation. Through earning
reward points our airfare was paid for. We decided on Vegas since we have been
there before.
My mood was sulky before the trip. I hated to leave our dog
Sundae for a week and had writing projects to complete. My husband hurt himself
a few months ago. There was a monorail and a tram that could give us some
walking relief during the week.
He injured his foot while riding on a golf cart at work. For
weeks I had to play nurse, not naughty nurse mind you. I had to cook all our
meals, clean, take care of the dog and help him bathe. I was thrilled when his
doctor says his foot was improving.
At the airport he demanded a wheelchair. An attendant had to
wheel him around. I had to deal with our baggage while he was loving the star
treatment. Needless to say I was seething when he wanted the gate person to
help him onto the aircraft.
We rented a wheelchair at the Flamingo Hotel in Vegas. I
pushed him up and down the crowded streets. I was crabby and tired. I also
pulled a muscle so I was very close to pushing him off the wheelchair for my
own sanity. My arms were tender from all the pushing and pulling. He began to
get blisters on his hands from spinning the wheels to move.
He insisted on
using a scooter which was more expensive. It did save our arms some trauma. It pissed me off seeing him bang into
walls and almost knocked over pedestrians. I walked behind him because I felt
embarrassed. All we needed was a fanny pack and visor to match the blue haired
grannies scooting by. My feet blistered and sore were aching to catch a cab.
The desert weather was certainly humid in comparison to
Milwaukee. The second day we decided to go to the pool for much needed R&R.
I knew I was being a bitch. Here I was in Vegas, drinking a frozen alcoholic treat.
90’s music from my middle school hay days blared. Fair skin was burning under
the western sun. 20 something pool goers living it up with drunk dance moves
and lean bodies. It must be freeing to not have to answer to anyone. Women
bared legs and other body parts as if it was nothing. I cover up. Even in my 20’s,
I was too modest to reveal skin. Perhaps that was a reason for my icky mood.
The scooter made me feel old.
My skin was slick with sweat and I was itching to dangle my
feet in the cold water. He felt it was too difficult to hop over to the pool
without the scooter.
It is amazing how booze is a youth enhancing potion
disguised in a fruit concoction. During the pool party, we witnessed a wrinkly
lady pushing 60 flashing men young enough to be her grandsons. Merrily she
danced as security escorted her off the premises. Her mortified husband walked
behind her, head hung low.
We got our hands on some free show tickets. That evening we
went to see a Vegas insult comic named Vinnie. There wasn’t much of a routine.
Vinnie ripped through the audience zoning in on imperfections and stereotypes.
Then
when the front row began to get tiresome, his eyes wondered over to the side
where we sat. Shit. “So man, how did you hurt yourself?” My husband laughed and
said “I hurt myself at work.” The comic asked what he did for a living. He said
law enforcement. Vinnie thought he was a cop and so rambled off jokes about
injuring himself as a criminal gave chase.
The rest of the week we walked up and down the strip. Well I
walked. I worked a bit on writing freelance work. I’m sure that didn’t make my
husband happy but hey, the scooter didn’t make my day either.
The last night he agreed to go to a female impersonation
show with me. It was really good! There was an older man with his wife and her
80 year old mom. “You know, this is the first time I have been to Vegas with
two women” he said with a cocky tone. We rolled our eyes and sighed at having
to share a table with this guy.
The man pestered the waitress to bring him a bucket
of beer but to add tons of ice. There was Mr. Wannabe Hip desperately
attempting to look cool in front of the little old lady kicking back a virgin Shirley
Temple. Then he did something that made us laugh. He fist bumped the 80 year
old. She looked confused, she was not the only one.
There were funny and poignant performances such as Whitney Houston,
Joan Rivers, Celion Dion and Cher. Liza Minnelli’s “New York, New York” was my
favorite. Then the female impersonator did “Wind Beneath my Wings” as Bette
Midler. My husband took one look at me and reached for my hand. It hit me. He
knows my soul. He gets my emotional response to songs and award show montages.
He loves and accepts my sappiness and edgy personality.
The last day in Vegas we spent some time playing the slots.
I looked at him as we burned our last buck of the gambling budget. “We aren’t
lucky” then he looked at me and whispered “Sure we are, we have each other.”
At the airport we waited for the plane to take
us back to normalcy. Out there waited our dog, our comfortable bed and our life
together.
