What Happens in Vegas! (Suzanne Forster)

Well, I don’t know what happens to other people in Vegas, but I can tell you what happens to me—I get stuck there! Last weekend was the second time in as many years that I’ve gone to a family get together in Sin City (is it still called that?), only to get stranded there. Both times it was my son’s idea. Every year his company sends their best salespeople to Vegas, and he thought it would be fun for me to join the festivities.

I wasn’t so sure. My last trip to Vegas had been his idea too. That was a combined wedding and family reunion on his dad’s side, and I got stranded at the airport on arrival and departure. The arrival amounted to some confusion about who was supposed to pick me up at the airport. I cooled my heels for about two hours, but that was nothing compared to the departure. I’ve dubbed it The Long Night of the Bates Motel. My flight out was delayed three times and finally cancelled at eleven pm that night. My son and the rest of the family were flying back to the Pacific Northwest and had all left that morning, so I was all by my lonesome. One of the passengers kicked up such a fuss at the cancellation that the airlines offered to put us up at motels nearby, but trust me, they weren’t doing us any favors. Most of the passengers had the sense to refuse. Silly me!

I won’t go into the gruesome details, but the taxi ride alone was one of the more terrifying experiences of my life. The driver spoke no English, and I’m still not sure he took me to the right place. One piece of advice here: Don’t stay at a motel where the window blinds come apart in your hand when you try to lower them and the door lock won’t work! I ordered pizza once I got in the room, but was afraid to open the door when the delivery guy showed up. Only my ravenous hunger overcame my fear. I slept in my clothes, of course, if you can call it sleeping.

Naturally, I was not anxious to repeat that experience, but eventually the kids talked me into going. And there was one good omen. I had another new book out. The first Vegas trip was during The Arrangement’s release. This time it was The Private Concierge. I’d been asked to do a signing for The Arrangement, but there was too much going on. This time I made it a point to schedule that in, and I got to hang out with some readers while I was there. That was great fun.

For the most part, the weekend went amazingly well. We ate at a steakhouse called Nero’s one night and had a veritable feast. It was all luscious. I had lobster!!!!!!! Yummm, but I have to say that the decaf cappuccino I had afterward was even more memorable. Simply the best cappuccino I’ve ever had—and this from someone who doesn’t love decaffeinated coffee. It rarely has the flavor or richness of the real thing. Now that I think about it, I should have asked what kind of coffee they were using.

I was also surprised at the crowds. Given the economy, I expected a ghost town, but the strip was jam-packed. Apparently the attraction was an air show, and all the hustle and bustle kept things lively, but it also made for long lines at the restaurants and a rush on show tickets. Still, there was plenty of entertainment to be had for free. Among other things, Caesar's Palace has mythological Greek statues that periodically come to life and do all manner of exciting things, like calling out the thunder and directing lightning bolts at each other.

I also caught the Pussycat Dolls dancers in their neon-lit cages. Not the real Dolls. These dancers reminded me of the Go Go girls of the Seventies, but they were beautiful and sensual, undulating to rock music in the center of an oblong pit and surrounded by Twenty-One tables. The dealers were also dressed up like Dolls, and as you can imagine, there was quite a line-up to play cards.

And—drum roll please!—I won a jackpot on a slot machine—and immediately stopped playing. How’s that for self-control? Actually, for me it was a snap. I’m not much of a gambler, probably because I really hate to lose money. So, when I win anything resembling a jackpot (and this was a small one), I take the money and run. It was tremendously exciting, though, to hear those bells and whistles going off. I can see how people get addicted.

By Saturday night I was having so much fun I was even heard to say that I must have been wrong about Vegas, that it was the perfect place to celebrate, no matter what the occasion. Maybe I shouldn’t have tempted Fate that way. Sunday morning, the line to the restaurant was around the block and, no surprise, the breakfast was cold when it got to us. I still gobbled every bite. Those casino complexes are huge and require massive amounts of walking. It’s easy to build an appetite.

I had a late afternoon flight back and hadn’t packed, but before I could go back to the room, I had to do some shopping. The hotel had given me a gift card as part of their package, but it could be used only in their shops. Fortunately, they had a huge mall. Unfortunately, I had no time! However, I didn’t let that stop me. I knew very well if I didn’t use the gift card that day, I probably never would. Who knew when I’d be getting back to Vegas again? So … ready, set, shop!

I spent every cent on the card and then some, which is why they give them out, I’m sure. Now, I had two problems. No time and extra stuff to take home. I got myself packed in record time. Fifteen minutes! It’s so much easier going home when you don’t care about wrinkled clothing. But I didn’t allow for the taxi line, the ticket lines at the airport and the security lines. Yee Gods, I nearly had a heart attack, thinking I’d miss my flight. I raced around like a mad woman, negotiating a rolling carry-on and a huge bag into which I’d jammed everything including my purse. I made it to the gate in the nick of time, only to find that the flight had been delayed for two hours, at least. That was estimated departure!

I immediately envisioned the worst. Was this to be another Long Night of the Bates Motel? Two nightmares in two trips? I made a vow to myself that I would sleep on the airport floor before I’d go back there. But the terminal was wall to wall stranded passengers. There wasn’t even sitting-on-the-floor room. Flights had been backed up and delayed all day because of runway construction. It didn’t look good.

Long story short, I had at least a two-hour wait and ended up finding floor space too far from the gate to hear the announcement of a gate change. Possibly because I had a full-fare ticket, they made an extra effort to find me before the plane took off or I really would have been stranded. But what a flight it was!! My ears are still ringing from the man next to me. He had a voice that could have cracked glass and was shouting to his co-workers two rows back. Of course, they were shouting back. But our screams drowned them out when the plane landed. It hit hard and bounced like it had pogo sticks for wheels. Wow. My eyeballs are still clickety-clicking. Our Maggie should give that pilot some lessons.

So, Monday was spent recovering and feeling very grateful to be home, sweet home! But I’ve decided to think positively about my two trips to Vegas. They must really like me there. They don’t seem to want me to leave.

What’s your favorite weekend getaway, and if you’ve figured out the secret to surviving Las Vegas, spill, please! I’m now officially afraid to go back.

Suz