Did you miss me this week? I was off in Sin City. Another year, another tradeshow in Vegas.
Last year while I was gone, Destroy said â€œmamaâ€ for the first time. (He didnâ€™t really know what he was saying â€“ it was more the syllable construction, but that totally still counts.) Another trip around the sun, and this time he arose at 4 a.m. to scream â€œMommmeeee.â€ (Although, Iâ€™m not entirely convinced he knows the difference between Jon and me in terms of that title.)
We hit the strip on Monday night. And by this I mean I arrived at the convention center hotel. One of my colleagues discovered that he could slip and slide Risky Business style across the lobby floor. (But with pants. Itâ€™s the little things that add to the ambiance of a mega-hotel resort.)
With that began four days entombed in the climate-controlled environment of the conference expo. A friend sent me a message asking what the weather was like. Air conditioned, was all I could say.
(I did manage to escape to the faux twilight of the Venetian canals one evening. Just one hotel to another, but a different faux-part-of-the-world.)
Several of us ventured forth into the great dry desert air once again this afternoon â€“ in search of a taxi to take us back to the airport. But first â€“ to change clothes!
Iâ€™d started the day in a very fashionable wrinkled hobo chic business outfit. (Thank you faulty iron in the swanky hotel. FYI â€“ it is, in fact, not possible to flatten wrinkles out of a cotton blouse via brute force against the weight of the iron.)
I was not about to travel in a pencil skirt and 4-inch heels.
As I was barricaded (with all my luggage) in a bathroom stall pumping with pop music, I realized the accuracy of the concept â€œWhat Happens in Vegasâ€¦â€ Iâ€™d stripped off my skirt and was standing in my undies and heels as I attempted to perform a carefully choreographed cootie-free dance to wriggle into my jeans and sneakers without touching any part of the bathroom floor with bare skin.
And Iâ€™m glad I made the effort to get into comfy shoes. The Disneyland ride-like line at the airport snaked up, down and around the skycap airport entrances. Suckers! Rookie move travelers. Donâ€™t you people know you should use superhuman strength to smoosh every article of necessary clothing into a single carryon bag?
What? The entire Southwest computer system is down and Every. Single. Person. needs to wait in line for a boarding pass?
-.- No matter. Iâ€™ve got time.
Especially because my flight was delayed.
â€œFolks, I know it looks like thereâ€™s a plane at our gate, but that planeâ€™s broken. And thatâ€™s bad. We donâ€™t want that. So weâ€™re going to just push that bird out of the way and roll in a new one. Itâ€™s gonna be a few more minutes.â€
That is a quote. Because you canâ€™t make this stuff up.
Oh my god! What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas. THEYâ€™RE TRYING TO MAKE ME STAY IN VEGAS!
We left Vegas at our original San Jose arrival time. I finally arrived home at 7:35. Five minutes after the muppets went down for the night.
CURSES! Foiled again.
That being said, to mommy-guilt I say, â€œListen here bitchâ€¦â€ And also, see you next year.