What Happens in Vegas

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 “mama” for the first time. (He didn’t really know what he was saying – 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 “Mommmeeee.” (Although, I’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. It’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 – in search of a taxi to take us back to the airport. But first – to change clothes!

I’d started the day in a very fashionable wrinkled hobo chic business outfit. (Thank you faulty iron in the swanky hotel. FYI – 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 “What Happens in Vegas…” I’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 I’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. Don’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. I’ve got time.

Especially because my flight was delayed.

“Folks, I know it looks like there’s a plane at our gate, but that plane’s broken. And that’s bad. We don’t want that. So we’re going to just push that bird out of the way and roll in a new one. It’s gonna be a few more minutes.”

That is a quote. Because you can’t make this stuff up.

Oh my god! What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas. THEY’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, “Listen here bitch…” And also, see you next year.