#CityStoriesSaturday

#CityStorySaturday: Las Vegas

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Everyone needs to have that vacation where they just let loose and get a little wild, or a lot, depending on your definition. These vacations are prime storytelling material. On these vacations, people do things they wouldn’t normally do, and spend money they normally wouldn’t spend. For me, a fake ID was all I needed for access this adult-playground located in the middle of a desert basin. If you haven’t figured it out by now, we are referring to the one, the only …

LAS VEGAS, NV

To close out our lovely mini-series, I’d like to wrap up with one of my most favorite stories to tell. I went to Vegas on two separate occasions, both times in which I had unforgettable memories. This one, however, is on a planet of its’ own.

Let’s start at the beginning. There are two ways to get to Vegas – fly in or drive in. I suppose you could bike, but I wouldn’t encourage it. My firm recommendation is to drive in, and do it at night. Not only do you pass very scary desert towns on the way in where you seriously question what would happen if your car broke down, but you see the lights of Vegas long before you arrive. About an hour and a half away, we thought we sa
w storm clouds, they had this light pink glow really far off in the distance. Thinking we would hear thunder soon we kept watching. The closer we got the more we realized that it wasn’t a storm, well, thinking about it now maybe metaphorically we could call our 36 hours in Vegas a storm.

We arrive promptly at about 1am, we left Anaheim California far too late due to a certain co-pilot of ours, my dad. The same co-pilot who made us leave Vegas late, but don’t worry we’ll get there. We checked in at the Paris hotel, it was absolutely incredible. I know people talk about how beautiful the Bellagio is, but I was all about Paris. It looked like a small little village complete with La Creperie, which was phenomenal by the way. Amanda and I went upstairs to change and we all hit the slots for a fun first night. Knowing it was a short visit we wanted to make the best of it. So off we went, leaving my dad to the gambling gods. We were able to get into a club inside the Bellagio at some point after winning a few hundred bucks paying roulette.

Cut to the next morning, we peeled ourselves out of bed sometime around noon and wanted to do some sight-seeing. Unable to reach my dad, we went without him. We checked out Caesar’s, bought some cute heels at a boutique, you know, did the tourist thing. My dad called about 5pm and told us to come to his room. He was standing there with $1700 dollars fanning himself. We freaked out and pried the story out of him, it apparently was won somewhere in the 10am hour that morning, and he went to bed shortly after. Totally stoked, we all left for dinner. After dinner, once again, we parted ways and reminded each other we had to be up and checked out by 11am.

My dad isn’t one for rules, so we most certainly did not make it out by 11am. When Amanda and I went to meet him, he didn’t show. So we headed up to his room to find him … After banging on his door for about an hour, calling the hotel manager, getting a locksmith and two security guards, we were finally able to open the door. Only to find it was chain-locked as well! At one point after yelling into the room and hearing nothing, a housekeeper passes by me and says, “I see it all the time, people come to Vegas thinking they can handle it and are found dead in their rooms.” Great choice of words, cleaning lady.

I finally hear him yell back at us saying “I’m sleeping!” So relieved to hear he’s still kicking, I tell him that everyone has been worried sick and we are all out in the hotel lobby trying to get the door open. I tell him that there’s six of us who have spent the last hour kicking and yelling to wake him up and answer the door. Following this, he responds with one simple, personality-encompassing, eternally hilarious question;

“Does that mean I need to put pants on?”

Yes dad, that means you need to put pants on.

Have a story from Vegas? Yes, we know what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas … Oh come on! Share it below. 

Haley Reagan is a young mother and fiancee who kicks ass and takes names. Wisconsin born and raised, but a Carolina transplant, and is studying to be a Middle Grades teacher, so yes, she is borderline insane. She really strives to be the Shane Falco in a world of Eddie Martels.