So I went to Vegas. For my 40th, because there's nothing like easing into a big birthday with $14 mojitos by the pool and $10 Miller Lites at the Flamingo watching Donny and Marie.
Expensive, but worth every penny.
We managed to talk 12 other people into spending the weekend of the Kentucky Derby in smoky casinos and smoking hotel pools (The Encore has one of those fancy "European Bathing Pools" that require you to be 21 and camera-less. The only topless Europeans I saw were some hairy old Greek men smoking cigars.) We arrived on Friday and walked the strip and had drinks on the Bellagio patio overlooking the fountain. After gambling, we hopped on over to Paris for dinner and then back to gambling along the strip. Heaven.
Saturday was spent by the pool. And speaking of topless men, Sean started his tan tattoo for luck.
Later, the women folk went to Donny and Marie (Fabulous!) Incredibly cheesy, but when you go to see Donny and Marie at the Flamingo, well, you pretty much know what you're in for.
Sunday was more time at the pool, gambling, and then off to my favorite restaurant in the world--a little French hole in the wall that is absolutely divine. The story is that Bobby Darren named it back in 1974 and it is a favorite haunt by anyone who comes to Vegas. I can see why. Tucked in between a barb-wired hair salon and a burned out gas station, you would never find it in a million years.
But we did, and I'm glad.
Afterward, we went to the old Vegas--Freemont Street--and suffered smoke inhalation and second-hand alcoholism, but it was fun.
And now I'll have to continue easing into 40 in Eastern time. It's going to be a long process, so stay tuned.