A Final Night in Vegas

Waking up early I tried to catch up on my blogging. Why did I think that writing at least one blog a day was the way to go? And why couldn't I be like most people who just throw down a paragraph before making their merry way across the interweblands? No – I decided that I had to log everything. A small entry for me is one thousand words. Taking about half an hour to write one of those, catching up once I had fallen behind was proving to be an issue.

Take into account the failing keyboard (the D key still not working very well at all – see if you can spot all the places where it should be, but is for some reason vacant. An instead of And is a big one.) and this was not going great. Still, I tried this morning [authors note: this entry is for the 19th of August, and is being written on the 22nd. Clearly catch up methods have not been going well.]

When Katherine woke up I thought my blogging would be at an end, and I would have to go out into the world. Now it's not that I don't like going out into the world – I do. It's just since I'd started I just wanted to catch up and let the world become a good and normal place again. Writing a day or two late – a week in some cases – leads to so many things being forgotten – and the tone is more rushed, as I'm trying to work through a great many rather than focusing on just one.

My time was not yet over, however, as she suggested she would go get breakfast. Having someone bring you breakfast? It's a wonderful thing. Perhaps this is how she felt in Florida – always waking up to a ready meal?

As all things do, however, this ended and it was once more away from the computer and into the scary bear infested world out of doors. I'm told there are no bears in the desert, but this is Vegas. Who knows what monsters lurk here?

When we headed out we first made our way to the Tix4Tonight booth. This is where you can pick up discounted tickets for shows, and all that good stuff. We wandered down and stood in line trying to figure out what we should see. In my mind it was down to two: Holly Madison – Peep Show (because is there a more Vegas show than something of that nature? It would have been a cultural experience) or some Cirque de Soleil. You know – the French Canadians who suspend themselves from ropes and wear strange costumes?

But even still – what one. It seemed every casino had one of these shows going – there was Ka, which looked pretty cool. There was one, O, with ex-olympians. There was Zumanity which was a sexualized show – merging culture with the Vegas flair. Even the Chris Angel show was one of them. Eventually we settled on the one playing across the street at the Mirage: Love.

That would be showing at seven at night. It was still early – after winning a few bucks on slots (lucky 7 with five lines, five credits a line being the way to success here... betting more than five credits would have won me more, but I fear the losing of money) I was about to leave the Mirage, after picking up our newly purchased tickets. But Katherine was in a jealous mood. She could not stand to see me win. So once more, in her now famous fashion, she bet some money – managed to get ahead, but failing to stop reduced it all to nothing. Again, we only play with a buck or two so the losses aren't great – only the damage to the pride.

Next up? Treasure Island. You need to take a tram to this place, and it's a pretty good looking casino. Inside there is a carved mammoth tusk. I'd seen these before (always assuming they were elephant in the past) but I'm never less than impressed. To see all the intricate carvings, all the many figures so perfectly sculpted – all without breaking the piece? It's incredible. Give me a time machine, and I'd love to be able to look into the past, watching as it was formed.

There was also a neat-o motorcycle custom job thingy that I'm sure car and bike people would be into – but, you know... I don't know about that stuff, except for it had a siren face with cool light up blue eyes.

Getting to Treasure Island was no problem but leaving was. To cross the street we had to walk a bridge west, then a bridge north, then one east. All this took thirty minutes, and with no water – the sun hot – this was not a good situation. We then failed to navigate our way from the Venetian (I've seen that bridge before – in Venice) and all looked lost, until the welcoming golden arch appeared before us.

Love it or hate it, but a 32oz refillable drink for only a buck, full of Poweraid, Light Lemonaid, soda, or just plain water? That's as near perfection as I've ever seen.

Figuring we'd take the rest of the day easy we went back to the hotel and headed off to the pool. It was before six, so it would be open. Of this we were sure. We changed, headed out, and saw the great watery expanse before us. Hopping in we were quickly told to get out – someone puked in it. It was closed. Swim fail two. Going in the hot tub instead, it was soon discovered that hot water under the hot sun is not a good combination.

Back to the room. We decided our next action? The Buffet. Our hotel had the cheapest of the local buffets at only nineteen dollars. Now while we assumed it would not be good, were we to avoid this Vegas experience we would think back with regret. It was – I don't want to say terrible, but for that price, I'd not do it again. I think you were supposed to tip – but it was confusing as we paid our bill before we could eat. All I know is I did my best to eat for an hour, and then tapped out.

There was nothing that stood out.

On the TV Fast and the Furious: Tokyo Drift was playing. It may be surprising to learn that I love these movies, despite knowing nothing about cars. I still like to see them all flashy and wonderful. And Tokyo – I like that. And Drifting (like Initial D without all the unnecessary, “it's Japanese!” incest, and long unending character development.) I watched an hour, before we had to go. Part of me, only mostly kidding, suggested we blow off Love – which we each spent one hundred dollars on. But no, off to Mirage to watch the show. I'd never seen a Cirque show before, and was pretty excited. Not Penn and Teller excited, but I was into it.

Love is a show set to the music, time, and vague-ish story of The Beatles. Everyone knows the Beatles, and everyone loves the Beatles – those who say otherwise are liars. Now, I may not have known much of their music until five years ago when a friend at the time played me most of their albums back to back, but even before then I knew they were something special. That album, you know, where they all walk across the street? That's a goodie.

The performance started with the bombing of Liverpool in the forties, which then led to the Eggman (coo coo cachoo) trying to retain control of a country looking to change. A “tea man” pouring smoke and water from his silver pot moved across the stage providing for all. A loosely veiled metaphor for LSD. Soon colours were rippling, people were descending from above, and madness was taking hold. For one number a sheet covered the crowd, and only us in the cheap seat could see. The others were trapped in the world below.

They even worked in Octopuses Garden (my favourite Beatles song – despite protests of just about everyone who learns this fact.)

For an hour and a half there was action, acrobatics, and music – beautiful, beautiful music played from speakers worked into each and every chair in the house. It was an event, and one that I was glad to have seen.

Katherine would later recount how it made her feel like a child – looking in awe, not caring about anything but the spectacle. I envied this, almost embracing this mind set the night before, but still feeling somewhat removed. Still – it was a fantastic show, and one that I would recommend to just about anyone.

For one hundred and fifty dollars (the asking original price) it would still be a thing to witness.

With show ended we made out way back. There was a desire to dance it up, and buy a five foot tall drink that can only be worn around one's neck – but it was late, tomorrow would be an early day, and – though I hate to say it, I was becoming sick. I could feel it – in my bones.