No trip with us would be complete without some sort of major miscommunication. Therefore, there was some confusion around Beth’s arrival time in Vegas. Becki said she though Beth was arriving at 11 p.m. on Friday, and Kendra confirmed that when talking to Beth Thursday night. We were laying by the pool Friday morning when Beth called my phone. We had one of those conversations where each person thinks the other one knows what they’re taking about, when in actuality, neither knows. Finally, Beth says “so I should be there in about 30 minutes.” “What?” I said. “30 minutes from NOW??” “Yes,” Beth said “I’m in the taxi line at the airport right now.” And suddenly the entire confusing conversation began to make sense. And the sad thing was, none of this was alcohol-related confusion. We’ve just stopped listening to each other. But that was remedied as soon as Beth got to the pool and we all ordered ginormous tropical drinks. We still didn’t listen to each other, but at least we had an excuse. Kudos to me for using sunscreen both days, as I usually do not. But as a result, I wasn’t miserably sunburned and now I have a lovely tan.
I would like to say at this juncture how happy I am that I live in a place where I don’t have to rely on cabs for transportation. EVERY SINGLE cab driver we had creeped me out. Kendra mentioned our first cabbie, who said – and I quote – “do you girls want to see my new sex game?” Hmmm. Not sure what to do, especially since I was in the front seat. I just prayed he wouldn’t undo his pants or something or want to demonstrate on me. Gah GAAAAAHHHHHH!!! Kendra also mentioned our other cabbie, who complained about not meeting any “wild women”, and then commented that the size of my breasts coupled with the fact that I had a broken foot meant I must be a wild woman. Me and The Boot hightailed it into the hotel as fast as possible. The best part about that ride was when he ran over a cup and it popped out from under the tire and hit some girl walking down the strip. None of us actually saw it hit her, but we heard the “pop” and then a squeal. He was concerned, we couldn’t stop laughing.
If someone were to ask me what my favorite thing about Vegas was, I would say…earplugs. Yes, earplugs. You see, Becki is a petite flower in all respects except for when she sleeps. She’s got a snore louder than anyone you’ve ever heard. Thanks, sleep apnea. Anyway, the first night, Becki, Karen, Kendra and I were sharing a room, and right before we’re going to bed, Becki whips out earplugs. We’ve been friends for over 15 years and this has never occurred to me before. So that night, I slept so soundly that I didn’t hear Becki snoring and I apparently didn’t feel Karen touching my ass repeatedly. It’s ok though, because Karen’s hot. Friday night, after dancing for hours (with The Boot), the girls were going to check out the club in the Mirage, but I was done. So I put in my earplugs and heard nothing until morning. If you’ve ever spent time with us as a group, you know that we’re not quiet, so the earplugs must have been effective as I didn’t have to take anyone’s head off for waking me up. The same could not be said for Kendra, who grumbled loudly the next morning when we were going to leave for the pool. Karen said “Is the sun out?” And I said “Yes – except for apparently it is NOT out in Kendra’s room yet”. The earplugs also saved me from Kendra's ladylike yawns every morning. If by "ladylike" you mean "are there coyotes in here?" Oh, and check out our big pimpin' room.
Anyway, those are some of the highlights. Most of the others would involve us trying to tell the stories, dissolving into laughter and then a chorus of crickets chirping, since none of you guys would know what the hell we were talking about. Viva Las Vegas, baby!