After six years of
playing husband and wife, Inna and I decided to make it legal with a unique wedding ceremony
in Las Vegas. At 59, this would be my
first marriage. Inna has been the best
thing that ever happened to me. I knew
it. My friends knew it. By now, even my stubborn, 92-year-old mother
knew it. And as the departure date grew
closer, I found myself almost giddy with excitement.
Inna and I both took
off from work early and were heading for BWI Airport with our good buddy Jimmy
Martin by 3, arriving two hours before our flight to Vegas.
We had heard all sorts
of horror stories about interminable waits at the airport because of the
dreaded sequestration, so we were prepared for the worst. Southwest was jammed but the whole check-in
procedure only took about twenty minutes. We joined the security snake line at Gate B
and found the TSA folks to be both efficient and courteous.
After putting our
belts and shoes back on, we headed over to the Zona Mexicana for some dinner
and a few tasty Pacificos.
The flight to Vegas
took about 7 hours with a brief stop somewhere along the way – I can’t even
remember where the hell it was – and we arrived in Sin City around 10 – 1
o’clock Maryland time.
The airport was
buzzing and the head-pounding TV screen ads for Cirque de Soleil, Blue Men, and
an endless stream of don’t miss Vegas shows, made it all feel like we had just landed
in a very amped OZ.
We walked out into a
warm desert night and caught the shuttle bus to the car rental facility a few
miles away from the airport where we joined the long line at the busy Hertz
store.
Vegas excels at moving
tourists efficiently and over the years I have seen them showcase many cutting
edge technologies to make traveling more enjoyable. For instance, they were the first to implement
the handheld computer when you turn your car back in. You pull up, they zap your car, out comes a
bill, and you are on your way.
After five minutes in
the Hertz line, they turned on the slot machine agents. We were directed to what resembled a gambling
device with a telephone attached to the side. We pressed the screen and up popped a friendly
agent in – I have no idea where – who had us on our way in a matter of minutes.
We had ordered a full-sized car but they
were out of cars. So we got a brand new
Chevy Traverse SUV that seated seven and resembled something that might transport the
President. This would prove to be an ace
in the hole later on.
I’ve been to Vegas
many times and navigating the airport and then getting to the Strip was a
breeze. The neon views were intoxicating
and the air smelled like flowers.
Most of the wedding
party was staying at the Tropicana, but everyone else was arriving the next
day, so there was no one else to meet. We
parked around back and schlepped our bags to the front lobby.
The Tropicana is old
school – as in Rat Pack glory days. It’s
all retro reds and whites and has recently undergone an expensive face lift. I chose it because it has a really cool pool,
and with hot, sunny days in the forecast, it seemed like a good place to stay. I also liked the fact that it isn’t a
destination casino. Meaning, people
don’t drop in to check out the Tropicana, like they do at Caesars, Bellagio,
Paris, Luxor, New York-New York, Aria, The Venetian, Wynn, or Encore. The only people hanging around the place are
staying there. So there’s no riff-raff
and it’s a lot quieter than the fancier hotels. Quiet is good.
And I figured we’d need some sanctuary over the course of the next few
days.
We had reserved a room
through Priceline – a king with a balcony overlooking the pool. But by now, it was well after 11, and we were
about to get a lesson in modern hotel management. Check-in at most Vegas hotels is at 3, and they
steady dole out the rooms with abandon – even those reserved by others.
“Want an upgrade? Well, sure thing,
we have a lovely king with a balcony overlooking the pool.”
This is standard operating procedure. When you book a room, the small print says
“Subject to Availability”.
We ended up in a very nice room on the fourteenth floor of the Club Tower with a king bed, overlooking McCarron Airport and a large parking lot.
We were way too tired to argue. By now, it was about 3 o’clock east coast time and the bed looked quite inviting.
Tomorrow we’d work out the room situation and get settled in. But for now, it was time to dream.
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