I won't pay less than full price- Vegas II

Monday morning we woke up with renewed determination to succeed in Vegas. The only thing standing in our way was a little 2-hour presentation on a timeshare we signed up for. It seemed like a great deal at the time. If we could make it through the 2 hours of refusals we would get a free breakfast, half price show tickets, a 2-night cruise, two buffet tickets, and $25 towards food or gambling at the hotel. We hopped on down to the lobby at 9:15, ready for coffee and free breakfast. 45 minutes later we were still being "processed" at the condo office. The free breakfast was donuts, and we were told the actual presentation would go until about 2:00. That was a turning point for us. God help the man in the tie trying to keep us from the pool. We doubled-teamed the sales staff in venting our anger and were quickly placed back on a bus to the hotel where we got laughed at for being the gulible girls from Colorado Springs.

Things looked up as we focused on our strength in Vegas vacationing- attire. We had stopped in Utah for new swimsuits at Target and dancing dresses at Ross. We enjoyed blissful hours by the pool, followed by an almost too good to be true $25 steak dinner at the stupid castle hotel, than put on party clothes. We found the major dance club with lines out the door and had our first experience with a club where people actually did have to be on the list to not wait forever to get in and the beautiful people turned out in mass. We got in, discovered we can't dance to techno music, and headed to Tao. Very cool, but hard to get hit on in a city where all of the other women are half-naked.

The amazing thing about Vegas is that nobody looks happy there. You can sit on a bench for 15 minutes and notice that no one smiles. They all just look stunned by the lights and the booze and dizzying array of casino pits. We had fun, but Barb and I were ready to head down the road the next day. We didn't have time to take the pole dancing classes we wanted, but maybe next time.

2 Classy Ladies Hit Vegas

I can't tell the whole story in this blogpost-- so probably more to come with documentation from Barb's camera. The brief version--Vegas. Wow. A whole lot of boobs and neon and sounds. A lot can go wrong when two Colorado Springs gals enter Sin City. Examples from our first night:

We feel so flattered when club guys asks if we want to be on the VIP list for nights at the MGM and Bellagio and conclude among the frumpy tourists that we are the beautiful people. They say pride goes before the fall, SO... We show up at MGM to head to the front of the line for the party-- only to find there was no list. We were just lured in being the only women to show up at a sparsely crowded sports bar. Leaving, we're offered admission to Brittany Spear's favorite club if we're willing to dress up for the wealthy men and tip the ticket man $40. We proudly told him that we were on a lot of VIP lists for free. Undaunted, we head towards Coyote Ugly because a lot of men were in that line. They promise free entrance in the VIP line and free shots. We walk in and start looking for the free shots line. Turns out they pour the liquor right down your throat if you're willing to jump up and dance on the bar. Ohhh... free drinks on the bar not at the bar. We quickly abandon that mission and head to the House of Blues to dance. Finally success! We're gettin' down with the tourists and think Sweet Child of Mine is bringing out our brilliant dance moves. 10 minutes of bliss before the main act returns to the stage. In the tightest of leather (vinyl?) pants and a lace shirt, the Prince impersonator takes the stage with his review show, complete with slutty bride dancer.

I hadn't mentioned that it took us about 30 minutes to find our room in the Luxor, awkwardly hauling around ridiculous amounts of luggage up and down elevators and accross the casino floor. Or that we thought we could get half price tickets to a comedy show without selling our souls. But those are longer stories.

I now get why when bright-eyed us told friends where we were headed for spring break, they shook their heads in disbelief followed by smirking.

Verdict

I found out today that my work contract isn't being renewed for next year. The most helpful quote from meeting with the principal was, "you're very successful with the at-risk population. That's not who we cater to here."

Hazel goes to Vegas

Another teacher and I had this great plan to find cheap last-minute fares for spring break. We thought starting to search the weekend prior assured that our confident spontenaity would lead us to beaches. Turns out the only great fares spring break week fly to cities where Americans get kipnapped a lot these days. That was more adventure than we wanted to sign on for.

Plan B-- Now we're planning to driving to Vegas on Saturday. I know I'm not a Vegas-type person. I have no stillettos, sequined clothing, or items suitable for clubbing. I don't love crowds, staying up all night or crude stand-up. But I still need to see what all the fuss is about. And I lvoe great hotels and novelty in general. Part of our plan is to stop at the Vegas Ross on our way into town to help us start looking the part as clogs and fleece will not suit for this trip.

Quarter slots- here we come!

changing collars

I grew up in a very white collar community with parents from squarely blue collar backgrounds. They were self-made. I was always mystified by aunts who watched home shopping networks and drank from huge plastic mugs of Coke and cousins who hunted. I'm sure they were just as mystified by the golf, tea, and public television at our household.

Now I feel like I live between worlds. I have my white collar MA and a pay scale that affords a blue collar car and neighborhood. Last night I went to a party with all ex-military enlisted. Oddly, I found that I fit in. Much more than I could with the white collar women of the pilates, perfect jeans, and criticism of little league coaches.

Greg wants me to take gun lessons since I live alone. Back in my white-collar life I would totally oppose such extreme measures. Ah, the luxuries of assuming you'll always live in safe neighborhoods. Oddly, the idea is growing on me. And my partner in crime for spring break is an NRA member. Does this make me a complete collar convert?

uncomfortable

I'm trying to get more comfortable with being uncomfortable. I would never change the status quo of the bad things I'm comfortable with otherwise. Right now I'm comfortable dating someone I won't marry. I'm comfortable with the accumulation of minor disrepairs in my house that I can pretend not see so I don't have to find or trust a subcontractor. I feel good about lifting the amount of weight at the gym that doesn't make my arms shake or my face contort.

Unfortunately, the Pharaoh has spoken and the comfortable is now verified as wrong and dead-ending. I have to Let My People Go into desert territory feeling unsure of my livelihood. Like a good Israelite I'm doubtful and imagining myself suffering and poverty-stricken. On betters days I see myself as the main character in Christy heading into an unknown I'm meant for.

Semper Fi

I got back last night from a week with the Marines in San Diego. It was an amazing experience. I saw recruits in training, walked on the airstrip at Miramar, witnessed men weep as they got called Marine for the 1st time after surviving the crucible, and stumbled my way through one of their obstacle courses with a fake rifle. It gave me a lot to think about. Briefly:

1. God disciplines those He loves- I just spent one day being yelled at by a drill sargeant and later saw his kindness and patience. To see the hard transformation of loser to warrior helps me understand God a little more and why survival and sweat and pain can lead to greatness.

2. I've always been a little skeptical of the military. I've known some angry, mean men who seemed warped by the experience. But getting to meet really great men won me over to something more fierce than what I usually consider as a white democrat from the burbs. I have a new respect for the need to have men who know how to attack, kill and win. Hallmark sentments about bravery shrink in contrast to the real thing.

3. Guys who train that hard have a different respect for their bodies and what they can do. I hope I remember that and push myself a little harder than the minimal workouts I put in. It makes you curious about your own potential.