Before Their Time
Four Vegas Veterans
Tell Their Tales of Woe in the Oh-Eight
5 - Sunday Morning Coming Down
1 || Part 2 || Part
3 || Part 4
While the night's sleep was fitful, the next morning I felt ready
to take on the world again. Or, at least, another quality buffet.
While Main Street Station hit the spot--again--I know I didn't do
it quite right, for I was ravenous a mere 3 hours into the bus ride
back home to Phoenix. I cannot describe the miserable hunger that
ensued for the next, nearly eternal 5 hours on the rest of the ride
The morning was leisurely by necessity. Nobody felt much like dancing.
A large group of us met up at Main Street Station to pee on the
Berlin Wall (there's a piece of it in the men's room,
which I'd never noticed before). Jacqueline and Bill Walsh
came to breakfast and tried to hide, but we spotted them before
they could get away. In the dining hall, we moved several more tables
next to theirs so we could all eat together. With Stack in the middle
of the table with his stacks of food, the mood was slovenly and
ravenous with a touch of disgusting.
After breakfast, Stack, Jeff and Jerry wanted to
go to The Hilton. The Star Trek Experience had lost its contract
and was likely to be gone before we came again to Las Vegas. Jeff
and Jerry, both tending toward that kind of nerdliness, wanted to
bid the place a teary farewell. Since Jerry was my ride to the airport
later, I tagged along.
We shambled through the Star Trek gift shops and
sat at the bar for one of their Klingon or Romudork drinks, but
when the price turned out to be twice that of a normal beer (for
a normal beer with normal blue food coloring added), we all balked...
and left the bar. But not before the Klingon bartender told us that
that he firmly believed the contract would be renewed. Klingons
are so deluded.
Out in the casino area with the fading Star Trek
theme, 80s rock videos played. I sat down to try the Star Trek slots.
Shakes made them a lot more fun by rigorously shaking my chair as
I played to match the sound effects coming out of the machine. Flailing
to keep my balance, I whacked my wrist on the chrome, opened a bloody
gash on my shin against the pedestal, incurred whiplash to my cervical
vertebrae--but it was all worth it. What I suffered--and the coins
I lost--were nothing compared to what Captain James Tiberias Kirk
has gone through!
So engrossed were we in Star Trek Vegas that Stack
and Jeff Barr decided to "flat tire" it at the airport,
that is, purposefully miss their flights for later ones. They did
this after having checked that there would be open flights later
Still, they had to head out before Jerry and I.
My flight wasn't until seven. So we went to check out a British
pub that Jerry had heard about. It was really, really cool. They
had great French fries (which the English call "chips")
and a laid back atmosphere--plus ultra-hot waitresses. Seriously
H-O-T! And dressed like slutty school girls. Jerry, naturally, flirted
with several of them. I both tried to flirt and tried not to flirt.
I needed a drink, so I ordered a Black Velvet, the drink Bill Walsh
had recommended some time before.
It was good. It was good, good.
And finally, Jerry dropped me off at the airport
in time to find out that my flight had...departed?!
Yes, it wasn't scheduled to leave at seven,
but to arrive back home at seven. I must be going senile. I saw
Stack and Jeff minutes before they were called to their predicted
standby flight. But me, I had all evening to wear out the batteries
in my iPod, my PDA and my cell phone before I got on the last flight
I was the last standby passenger called and got
the very last seat on the plane--smack between two enormous men
who glanced over at me in the middle seat.
"So you're the victim, huh?"
Ninety cramped minutes later, plus ninety more
minutes to get to my front door, and I'm in the shower, vowing
never again to go to Las Vegas. Until around February.
Bye. I really don't want this trip report to be compared to
to the Trip Reports Page