Vegas Baby…

The weekend finds us in Vegas for a wedding. Arizonans go to Vegas in the summer because we like to experience the surface of the sun a little more to the north and west. You know, for fun. The only place hotter than The Dale on any given August weekend is The Strip. We still get all smiley at the thought, “Vegas Baby.”

It’s Lawyer Boy’s (remember he’s Middle Chicken’s fiance) sister’s wedding. Following? Since we’ll all be family soon enough, we figure let’s join in the festivities. We already know the families play well together. Our children have been together since college. They were the last to decide to marry. Parents had it all mapped out. Often, various family members found ourselves tapping our watches in that tick-tock motion. Finally, they got engaged. Whew. But it’s the sister’s wedding we’re celebrating.

Baby Chicken flies from Bama, Roll Tide. Middle Chicken flies from Santa Barbara. This girl drives ‘cuz I have things to bring and podcasts to hear. Can you say, My Favorite Murder–the Jon Benet Files and the Gainesville Ripper. Just light entertainment.

I’d like to say we take in the sights of a non-alcoholic nature but that would be a lie.

Did you know at Ethel M Chocolates you can see 300 species of cacti? True. It’s a four-acre patch of various pokey things for your perusal. Baby Chicken and I miss it ‘cuz we were at a sake tasting.

Vegas may be the only place on earth you can eat In-N-Out and Shake Shack all in the same day. Unless your hangover threatens the stability of your tummy. Bed sounded better. After spiked lemonade at the pool.

You can take in the Hoover Dam, but now that Highway 11 is open allowing you to bypass the whole damn thing, why not? You get to the bar a half hour earlier. Everyone’s waiting after all.

I see the formations in Red Rock Park. They’re right outside my window. The closest we make it to hiking them is strategically balancing poolside Pina Coladas for pics with jutting rocks in the background.

You can tour Zappos–that heavenly land of every pair of shoes on planet earth. But why do that when you can spend two hours at the hotel buffet ingesting enough grease to soak up last night’s pre-wedding festivities? Biscuits and gravy combined with Eggs Benedict must work, non? Maybe more bread.

The Pinball Hall of Fame attracts a lot of people. So does a pre-wedding nap. Besides, ladies and pinball? Pfft.

Fresh as daisies, we arrive in our Sunday best: hair curled, nails polished, eyes bright, lashes big. We tear up as the bride walks up the aisle. We marvel at the flowers, the decor, the lights, the ceremony.

“Champagne ladies?” says the waiter.

“Well, maybe just one.”

Cheers.

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