Kenny loves Vegas.
Is it the casinos? Nope – he can’t stand being strolled through those… and that makes it pretty hard to get around here, by the way… Is it the showgirls? Not that either, I don’t think he’s into the miniskirts yet… Could it be the exquisite restaurants and designer shopping boutiques? Yeah, right. Like he’s not going to have a lot to say about me spending a lot of time in there…
No – It’s pretty simple really: our hotel room looks out onto the runway of the Las Vegas Airport. He has spent hours with his tiny nose pressed against the one-way glass, pointing frantically every 14.5 seconds and yelling, “Nudder one! Nudder a-plane take OFF!” Oh, and it’s not just airplanes, but huge, gorgeous private jets (which he calls “little planes”) and helicopters galore. “Copters! Mama, COPTERS!”
We’ve had a great time here. Casey has been busy, and it’s been too cold to go to the pool, but we’ve spent many happy hours jumping on the big bed, dancing like silly-willies to the radio, playing with legos and watching airplanes. And both days he’s napped long enough for me to get a decent walk on the Strip while he snoozes in the stroller. Did you know that in order to walk the Strip with a stroller, you have to go in and out of various casinos (read: being trapped in a human pinball machine), then up and down on elevators at each intersection to get to the sky-walks? It took me over an hour to walk two miles yesterday. But my little angel did sleep long enough for me to go into a very nice shop and buy my first “real” purse that is neither a diaper bag, nor a pleather purse from Tar’jay. He woke up as I was contemplating the matching shoes. I asked him if he liked them, and he replied, “Mama Shoes!” so I took that as a yes, and pulled out my credit card. Thank goodness he was ready to go home after that, or I might have rationalized a new dress to go with it all.
Vegas is a funny town, though, in the sense that all that you see and read and watch about this city is so way over-glamourized. For example, last night Casey had a dinner party with his clients in one of the hottest clubs in town. When you see an ad for this nightclub, you imagine beautiful women in perfectly stylish dresses and men that look like Danny Ocean or James Bond. I attacked Casey with eager questions when he got home, and he said, “Actually, there were just a bunch of guys there from some convention in wrinkled shirts and tennis shoes drinking beers.” No super models? No Hollywood hotties? I was crushed. And think of all the movies of the Vegas casinos… men in Aramani shirts and gold cufflinks and women in Versace dresses and Prada shoes… and yet every time I’ve walked through the casino here at Mandalay Bay (which is one of the nicer ones, I’m told), all I see is conventioneers shlepping giant messanger bags, Midwestern couples with University of Ohio sweatshirts and New Balance sneakers, and the occasional teenage girl dressed like she’s watched one too many episodes of “Las Vegas.” Of course, Kenny goes to bed at 7, so maybe I’m missing all the real action. I hope so, because I’d hate to re-imagine Oceans Eleven with Brad Pitt wearing Gap jeans and an American Eagle t-shirt.
So I’m here in the hotel room while my baby sleeps and the rest of the town is just preparing to think about where to go to dinner. I have to admit, as much as a little part of me is itching to dress up and paint the town red, the bigger part of me is happy to be here in a cozy and beautiful room, listening to Kenny breathe and blessed to be happy and settled down with my baby and the man that I love. And with that, I’ll say goodnight!