Last week my boyfriend Ricky and I journeyed to the fabulous city of Las Vegas with my parents. It was my third time going there and Ricky's second, but gambling was a first for both of us. A few months ago, my dad came across incredible hotel deals as he was researching on-line. I am a firm believer that one vacation (at least) per year is entirely necessary. Plus, with the cheap prices we could not pass it up.
We stayed at the Paris hotel, which is located in the middle of the strip. Our rooms were beautifully decorated with lots of reds and browns and were elegant yet funky.
We practiced our three-card poker skills at Bally's. (Bally's is a hotel connected to Paris, and they are owned by the same company). The Paris casino is perpetually dark and there is something about the environment that is uninviting. Feng shui is incredibly important when deciding upon which casino to gamble in. Bally's is brighter and doesn't feel as crowded. It's also more laid-back than Paris’s casino.
On the first night, Ricky and I were walking through Paris towards Bally's when Ricky spotted a place to purchase alcoholic drinks in plastic containers shaped like the Eiffel Tower. He decided he wanted to buy one, but as we stood in line I started to worry about the $14.99 price tag. I love searching for bargains and despise paying what I think is too much for something.
"They're kind of expensive, Ricky," I said.
He abruptly began walking away. As I caught up with him, I couldn't help laughing, knowing he was thinking about how much of a pain I am.
"I'm sorry, but that was kind of expensive for a drink," I told him.
"No, it had nothing to do with the price," he said. "I realized I don't want to be walking around holding a massive Eiffel Tower drink."
So we continued our adventure through Bally's and finally stepped outside in the 112 degrees.
"This feels amazing!" I proclaimed as I felt the dry air with my outstretched hands.
"Yeah, it really does," Ricky agreed.
After months (years, even, if I wanted to be dramatic about it) of unpleasant New England weather, 112 sounds completely appealing to me. I'm ready to move to the desert. Still, I'm sure we were both thinking a cool drink would be nice. We crossed the street and walked along the side of a hotel and casino called Bill's Gamblin' Hall & Saloon. Right away I spotted a sign that read: "Lime & Strawberry Margaritas 99 cents."
"Ricky! Look!" I yelled excitedly as soon as I saw the sign.
"Let's go in," he suggested.
We walked through the casino and found the bar. There was loud, live music off to the side, and everyone around us was loud too. It felt very old western; it was the perfect environment to sit at the bar and order a drink or three. Ricky ordered a lime margarita, and I didn't because I wanted to try his first. We then ordered a few more after I taste-tested and realized the deliciousness of the slushy ice, lime flavor, and hint of tequila. I always thought I didn't care for tequila, but I suppose I just don't like overbearing tequila flavor. Also, any alcoholic drink that only costs 99 cents obviously contains alcohol that isn't very strong. It was the perfect refreshment for walking along the strip at 2 AM.
That is something I love about Las Vegas--you can walk around outside with an alcoholic beverage. There is nothing like a slushy margarita or an ice-cold beer when it's 100+ degrees outside.
For the next four days, we spent the days in the pool or lying in the hot sun with lots of sunscreen, and we played three-card poker and walked to Bill's for margaritas by night. On our last night there, Ricky decided to bet about four times more on a single hand than we normally would. He got a straight flush--the best hand you can get. After his big hand, I played a few more hands (since Ricky and I were taking turns gambling so as to delay the loosing of the money). My dad and I were on a losing streak, so we walked over to Bill's. On our way back, we passed a man in a wheelchair for the second time as we walked across the street overpass. He had a hat in his lap for people to put money in and only had one arm and looked to be in rough shape.
My dad stopped just after we passed him. "Hold on," he told us as he pulled his wallet from his pocket. "I gotta give this guy money; he's been sitting here for awhile." He walked over and dropped a twenty in the guy's hat.
"He's probably a Vietnam vet," Ricky said.
"I don't know," my dad said. "All I know is that he could use it."
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