Vegas

Vegas has never been my city. I’m not a fan of gambling, prefer small hotels sans the bright lights, and generally enjoy less contrived green spaces. And yet I found myself agreeing to a spring break getaway with Youngest Son, Jacob, who recently turned 21.The conversation went like this:

Me: How about New Orleans? We can walk the Garden District, enjoy some jazz, antiques, and sunshine.

Jake: Can’t you get that in Vegas? I’ve never been.

And so the baby wins. But, in a stroke of genius, I invited Middle Son Shaun along so I could go to sleep at a decent hour each night. Guess he still babysits, but, it’s Vegas!

I never imagined I could be so amused at a Craps table. (Did I mention Eldest Adam showed up as a surprise to Jacob?) The boys developed a “system” which basically allowed them to play for long periods of time while walking away with several hundred dollars each. And along the way, they befriended the dealers, cocktail servers, cashiers, and fellow tourists. Even photos were permitted, a casino no-no apparently. Fist pounding, as in ‘pound it’ included all table participants. 

Other highlights include stair sprinting, roulette tutorials, ruined photo ops, and in-flight singing.

While most nights we had great menu choices, we did scale the highway embankment and concrete barrier for an In ‘n Out burger, ate midnight snacks, and slept in past breakfast hours most days. (Apparently, 3 AM doesn’t work for me anymore.) Not my typical vacation itinerary.

Despite rain, closed pools and a shared boy bathroom, I wouldn’t trade the memories for all the chips on the table.