Day One - March 24, 2005 - Vegas Bound

Okay. I know it’s not like we were on the Amazing Race or anything like that, but I seriously thought that one back pack was more than enough. We were only going to be away four days and what’s a bad smell or two when you’re among best friends?

Aaron kept looking at me and Flo like we were nuts, hefting around our straining back packs.

He and Jen had been a little more sensible, opting for carry-on luggage and totes.

“It’s not like we’re going to be carrying the bags around with us,” Aaron pointed out. “We can leave them in the hotel, you know.”

In an attempt to avoid any potential Thursday morning rush hour jam, we found ourselves arriving at Terminal 3 insanely early --- so early that there wasn’t even anyone at the check-in booth for America West.

Passing through customs, a shrivelled-up old woman eyed Flo and I warily when we started to walk past her together.

“Are you two family?”

“Yes.”

She looked at us like we were lying.

“You two live in the same house?” (Said in an incredulous tone.)

“Yes.”

“You sure?” (Speaking slowly now like we’re recently landed immigrants, fresh off the boat, who don’t understand a word of English.)

“Yes.”

Flo and I looked at each other like, “What the hell? Don’t we look like we’re sisters?”

“Okay,” she said slowly, eyebrows all knit together and a suspicious look stitched on her face, still. She held up both hands like she was washing them clean and didn’t want to bear any responsibility if we ended up being detained.

The bored customs official simply told us not to get into too much trouble while in Vegas.

Flo was the only one who had her bag rifled through, which she was a little annoyed with.

“I guess you’re the only one of us looks like a terrorist,” I told her.

We got to the waiting area and Aaron pulled out his little walkie talkie set he’d bought the other day. He wanted us to try them out and I reluctantly agreed to take it with me when I went to the washroom.

“Let me here you tinkle,” he joked.

I nearly jumped out of my skin when the static hiss of the walkie talkie let out this really loud noise, accompanied by Aaron asking, “Can you hear me? Over.”

I covered it with the palm of my hand, but Aaron’s insistent voice cackled through, loud and clear.

“Would you quit it?” I hissed, forgetting to say “over”.

“Would you answer, then? Over,” Aaron replied.

“I’m at the washroom. Quit it.”

I’d driven Flo nuts, sounding like a broken record by debating whether or not they’d feed us on the 5 hour flight to Phoenix.

“It’d be, like, inhumane to trap us on a plane for that long and not feed us,” I told them.

Aaron shrugged. He’d brought Chinese buns because of Flo’s warnings about not expecting to be fed.

He kept trying to palm them off on us, but nobody was really in the mood for eating yet.

With too much time to kill, we started gazing around the waiting area. There was a guy sitting not too far away that Aaron and Flo both found cute. They handed Jen a camera and asked her to take a picture of them in the waiting area --- mostly to get the cute guy in the shot.

You’d think this was a pretty simple thing to do, but the guy was eating a salad and it was like every time Jen got ready to take a shot, he had his mouth hanging open. And trying to get a clear shot of him also meant that half the pictures were missing most of Aaron’s face.

“Maybe we should have waited until he was finished eating,” Aaron suggested afterwards.

While we were sitting there, waiting, Aaron realized that, though he’d brought a water bottle, he hadn’t bothered to fill it with any water. But hey, at least he remembered to bring a bottle. I’d forgotten mine at home.

Martin and his friends didn’t come until much later. We didn’t have any real plans to hang out with the boys, who’d signed up for a number of poker tournaments and who’d brought along $1,000 each to basically donate to the casinos.

Flo had wanted to sit with Martin on at least one of the flights because it seemed like the only time they’d be spending any sort of quality time together would be either on the plane or in the airport.

“Sure, you can sit with him on the second flight into Vegas,” Aaron offered generously.

It took Flo a minute to catch on that she and Martin would actually be on two separate flights at that point.

Waiting around at the airport gets dull real fast.

Aaron and I decided to take a little stroll.

Jen commented that Aaron was quite the “looker.”

Aaron looked confused. “Do you mean the noun or the verb?”

“The verb.”

What she meant was that Aaron was constantly scoping out the guys --- always looking around.

Jen said she might wind up a “looker”, too, after spending too much time with us.

A lot of the guys we looked at fell into Aaron’s “good from far, far from good” category.

When we got onto the plane, we found ourselves sitting right next to the emergency hatch --- which was really convenient in case I got stir crazy and decided I couldn’t take being cooped up anymore and needed to jump out of the plane.

Seriously, though, the best thing about sitting next to the emergency hatch (aside from being able to get off the damn plane if it should suddenly go down) is the extra leg room.

You know what’s amazing?

Jen’s ability to fall asleep under any condition. I mean, I thought I was pretty good at that considering a moving vehicle, in general, is the equivalent of being injected with some potent sedative, but I think she might have an actual talent that surpasses my own.

It turns out they do offer food on the flight --- only, it’s a ridiculously jacked-up prices. When Martin told us that he’d paid $5 for a measly sandwich, I could only shake my head in disbelief.

What the hell is this world coming to?

The flight was 4 hours and 21 minutes long, but it didn’t really feel all that long. I thought I’d be able to skip the ordeal of having to pee on the plane, but after awhile, it got to be too much. I felt like my bladder would explode if I didn’t haul ass and make my way to the back.

There was this really cute guy waiting in line, making idle chit chat with a young boy. Aaron gave me this look and gave me a subtle two thumbs up, which made me laugh.

We landed at Phoenix around 1:20 and got to stretch our legs out a bit while we waited for our connecting flight.

Jen and I really went all out, spending the big money, by getting bottles of water that cost $2.80 (!). I mean, that’s just fucking ridiculous. You’d think the water had magical properties or something.

Aaron was better prepared than the rest of us. He had a Ziploc bag full of chocolates and candies, which we were more than willing to help him finish. Flo and I had only brought crappy granola bars, which I wasn’t really in the mood to eat.

The guys were on another connecting flight and we wondered who’d be the first group to make it out of the airport and arrive there, even though they were technically supposed to leave at the same time. Jim joked it was a bit like the Amazing Race.

When they called our flight, I couldn’t help but smirk a little.

The second flight from Phoenix to Vegas was a little over an hour, but I still managed to go out like a light. What else was there to do? At one point, I was talking to Jen, but it was like, literally, within the span of a few seconds, she was conscious one moment and the next moment, she was passed out and there I was, talking to myself.

It was kind of exciting, being able to see the Strip as the plane landed. I could see the Luxor in the distance and I whacked Jen on the arm to wake her so she’d be able to see, too.

Do you want to know how crazy it is in Vegas? They actually have slots in the airport.

No.

I’m not joking.

We tried taking several dozen pictures, so dazzled by the novelty of having slots in the airport, but the key was to find some way of proving that we were in the airport. And finally, I came up with this idea for actual photographic proof:

As we made our way out towards the baggage claims area, there was a lot to take in. Everywhere you looked, there seemed to be a lot going on. But I guess that’s the whole nature of being in Vegas. There were widescreen monitors and gigantic ads and crowds of people clogging up all available space.

At the baggage claims area, there was this little old lady who checked every single damn bag that came out. Like, what the hell? Couldn’t she remember what her bag looked like? I could understand if it’s a black bag that looks pretty much like everyone else’s, but she checked every single bag.

Weird.

Freezing and Shaking In Las Vegas

When we left Toronto, there was still snow on the ground and it was pretty damn cold. We’d simply assumed it’d be warm enough to walk around in shorts and skimpy tank tops when we got to Vegas --- I mean, it’s in the desert, right?

Let me tell you: it was cold.

While we weaved our way out towards the shuttle bus area to wait for our ride onto the strip, we were huddled together, with our knees knocking together and our teeth gnashing from violent shivering.

It was just as bad as being in Toronto, despite the sunshine --- which was a relief, considering the weather forecast had called for rain.

Of course, the shuttle bus took forever to arrive. We stood there for at least 10 to 15 minutes, just standing there. And when a bus finally came, it picked up a whole bunch of people who hadn’t bothered to wait in line, which pissed the hell out of the old Australian couple standing in front of us.

We were staying at the Boardwalk. Never heard of it? Yeah, me neither. It’s this little rinky-dink building that’s between the Monte Carlo and the Bellagio. It’s the kind of cruddy building that you could blink and miss ‘cause it’s so tacky-looking from the outside.

I was a little embarrassed when the driver pulled up, knowing we’d be the only ones getting off --- but who cares? A hotel is a hotel. If it’s got a bed and it looks relatively clean, then what more could you ask for?

The concierge looked at me a little puzzled when he cleared his throat and said, “Just to confirm. It’s just one room with two beds.”

“Yes.”

“Just two single beds?”

“Yes.”

“Four people?” he asked, holding up four fingers, like I couldn’t count.

“Yes.”

“Two single beds?” he asked again.

I was starting to look at the others, a little confused.

“You know, you could upgrade to a queen-sized bed. It’d be more comfortable,” the concierge suggested. “It’s only $10 extra per day.”

“Okay. Okay,” I told the guy, thinking, “Just give me my damn key already.”

When we made our way up to the ninth floor, we pushed open the door to find a musty, but otherwise serviceable room. It was like any old Holiday Inn --- which, by the way, is the outfit that owns the Boardwalk.

Can you imagine what the single beds would have been like to sleep on?

There was a pretty nice view of the New York, New York hotel and the MGM Grand in the distance.

It was right about now that Aaron discovered he was missing his return tickets. He was lounging in bed when he picked up Jen’s ticket and noticed he didn’t have two tickets still in his book like she did.

Jen said she hadn’t even checked, but I was pretty meticulous about that thing, thumbing through, making sure I had everything.

Jen and I kept asking him if he was sure he didn’t have it stuffed somewhere else --- like maybe his bag? But he was insistent that he didn’t have it in there. He was convinced that the ticket agent either didn’t send him a return ticket when he got the name changed on it or that the woman at the check-in counter had forgotten to hand it back to him.

After quite a bit of time calling Expedia to find out what we should do, Aaron reached into his bag to find his return tickets right where I’d suggested he look in the first place.

It took us awhile to get our stuff together and actually leave the room.

It was too cold for Jen and I to even consider changing into the skirts we’d brought for the two shows we planned on seeing. Rather than change, we opted to go in what we were wearing.

But we doubled back to the room to first get Aaron’s camera and then to grab our skirts and stuff them into our bags just in case we were denied entrance.

I didn’t really think they’d do that, though. It’s not like we were paying a visit to the Vatican or anything like that.

When we finally made it out of the Boardwalk, it was still relatively light out. We headed up north with Jen and I taking long strides ahead of Flo and Aaron who were lagging behind, stopping often to take pictures and looking every bit like all the other tourists that were clogging the streets.

Our first pit stop was the Bellagio, which was actually where Aaron’s friend, Peter, would be staying. Aaron told him we’d be in the crummy hotel next door to it.

As we stepped onto the moving walkway in the public thoroughfare, it slowly sunk in that we were here. The strip was so alive --- which I know sounds weird, but I guess when you’re coming from the usual routine of everyday life in Toronto and you’re heading into work or coming home on the TTC staring at the same listless faces day in and day out while under the umbrella of what seems like a perpetual winter, it’s hard not to feel the difference between the two places.

When you walk into the hotel lobby, you look up and find the ceiling adorned with 2,000 hand-blown glass flowers.

The lobby leads directly into the botanical gardens, which has a different display for every season and major holiday. It was kind of obvious that the current theme would be spring. (Duh. What else would the theme be?)

The scent of the flowers were overwhelming --- but in a good way. Hey, I might not get flowers on a regular basis, but I know enough that most of the bouquets that you’ll get on your token holidays are relatively fragrance-free ---- until they start to rot, that is. Then, it’s a whole different story.

As we made our way out of the botanical garden, we came across this chocolate store, where there was a really cool display of chocolate rivers flowing through the case.

We paused for a moment to watch a woman making crepes and then wandered around to peer outside at the pool. I wanted to go outside, but checking out the time (or rather, asking Aaron for the millionth time what time it was because he was the only one who’d bothered to change it back three hours), we figured we’d better start thinking about getting a bite to eat.

Flo and I had drawn up an itinerary before we left, but of course, everything was now up in the air and we decided to just go with the flow.

Initially, we’d planned on grabbing a quick, cheap bite to eat at Caesar’s Palace before catching the Celine show.

You know what’s a time waster? All the pedestrian thoroughfares ---- elevators that lead you up to walkways that bridge over the main streets.

Ever think that the 401 back home is crazy? Well, it’s nuts here, too --- and we’re just talking the regular roads.

At Caesar’s Palace, they’ve got a lot of patios. Because of the weather, they actually had the heaters going and it would have been nice to just sit there for awhile and get all toasty and warm.

Walking through the maze of pathways, we saw a huge poster with Bobby Flay’s grinning face beaming at us. We figured we might as well go there.

If it wasn’t so damn cold outside, I think I would have liked to explore the outside of Caesar’s Palace a little bit more. But in the rapidly dimming twilight, it was feeling colder and colder.

You know what was weird? They had a Buddhist-type alter! Weird!

Unlike the Bellagio, there was a certain kitsch factor to Caesar’s Palace. Everything’s a little over-the-top with all the faux-marble, cookie-cutter replicas of famous statues.

But kitsch in Vegas can be good --- if not mandatory.

It takes awhile to catch on that every casino basically looks the same ‘cause if you’ve never been to Vegas before, it’s easy to take a look down the strip and see all these huge, different buildings and think there’s gotta be more to it inside. But when you get right down to it, even though you might be in a different building, it’s still just rows and rows of slot machines and blackjack dealers and poker tables.

Walking around the casino and hotel can take a lot longer than you’d expect. And it’s pretty easy to get lost in one, too.

As we walked around and around, looking for a place to eat, it seemed like we were walking in circles.

When we finally found the Bobby Flay bar and grill, we took one look at the menu and realized we were dead wrong about being able to find a reasonably priced place to eat at Caesar’s Palace. The entrees cost upwards of $30 each and there were already crowds of people lining up.

We were all hungry --- they didn’t feed us on the plane, remember? And all we’d had at the airport were some of Aaron’s candies --- and none of us were in the mood to wander around endlessly.

Flo remembered that the Fodor’s guidebook said the Imperial Palace had a reasonably priced buffet. It was right across the street, so we decided to make our way there.

We crossed the street to the Imperial Palace, which is supposed to be this Asian-themed casino and hotel, but it wasn’t really any better than the Boardwalk. The little “Asian” touches were almost laughable --- two brass lions sat near the casino entrance. I’d seen greasy Chinese restaurants run by white people in small town America look more Asian than this.

We made our way through a maze-like setting of casino tables, trying to find the Imperial buffet, which was on an upper floor.

It turns out that, in a lot of these places, you pay up front before you’re seated. Aaron took a look at the prices and asked if we really wanted to spend $15 on a buffet.

Jen was too hungry to care at this point.

The show didn’t start until 8:30 p.m., so we had some time to kill after dinner --- which was okay. I didn’t stuff myself senseless like I normally would at a buffet. To be honest, I was a little disappointed with myself. I figured I’d make a bigger dent at the buffet tables.

We decided to stroll up the strip before crossing the street and making our way back to Caesar’s Palace, which had this place called the Forum Shops --- where a serious lack of funds would make it impossible to do any sort of shopping there.

The key word we were on the lookout for was “free.” Right before the trip, I’d actually found this site called “Cheapo Vegas” where they listed all sorts of free things to do there. They had this link to a hilarious site which claims it’s actually possible to eat for free while in Vegas.

It said, “Whoever said corporations are greedy never heard about Mandalay Bay Resorts. At some point during the day, players get small, flavourless sandwiches. In the morning they give out free donuts to slot players, or people impersonating slot players, if you get our drift.”

Jen had looked at me sceptically when I told her this. She was probably envisioning us all being airlifted home from severe food poisoning.

Okay, so, we’d skip the free eats, but we’d definitely make it a point to check out as much as possible on our list of “Free Things to Do.”

At the Mirage, there was Siegfried and Roy’s white lion habitat, where we could check out lions just like the one that mauled Roy. (Or was it Siegfried? I don’t remember.)

It was actually kind of boring, ‘cause the lion was just lying there, sleeping.

That’s the problem with free things --- they’re really not that great.

Like the volcano show that runs every 15 minutes in front of the hotel? You hear a bit of rumbling as the “volcano” lights up and fire spews upwards of 100 feet.

It kind of looks like a huge pot that’s boiled over.

We didn’t stop with the specific purpose of watching the “show”. I think we were on our way out and headed back to Caesar’s Palace when the volcano erupted.

Seriously, the rumbling was so terrifying that people were ducking and running for cover. (If you couldn’t pick up on the sarcasm there, something’s wrong with you.)

Like a zit ready to explode, the water lights up and then --- KA-POW!

It was so cold outside that any excuse to stand near something warm --- even if it was a controlled fired --- was a good one. Hell, I would have leapt inside the volcano if I wasn’t feeling so drained.

Even though there was still a lot to see and do, we decided it was probably a good idea to head back to Caesar’s Palace.

The thing about the Vegas Strip is that, while everything looks really close together, it’s not.

The hotels are large. You might be able to see the hotel next door and you might even think it’s not that far, but when you start walking towards it, it kind of dawns on you that it really isn’t.

We ducked into the Forum Shops, where they trick you with the allure of a cool free attraction like the “moving statues”.

The statues? They don’t move. You take a spiralling escalator and because you’re moving, the statues are supposed to look like they’re moving, too.

Except that they don’t.

I have to admit that it was really nice in there, though. I’d never buy anything there, of course, but it was kind of nice to walk around in --- if only my feet weren’t ready to be amputated.

The stupid thing was that we went up that escalator and kept looking around, trying to find those “moving statues”, not clueing into until much, much later that there weren’t any moving statues --- that the signs were totally misleading. And you know what really sucked? The escalators that led back to the first floor weren’t working, so we had to walk all the way back down.

Las Vegas at night is so alive that it’s easy to think you could probably go 24 hours straight without any sleep. With all the bright lights and tourists still out, roaming the street with drinks in hand and gaudy beads around their necks, the last thing you want to do is head back to the hotel --- ‘cause you feel like you might wind up missing something.

The Fabulous Ms. Dion

Somewhere along the way, Celine Dion started to get a little cheesy. Maybe it was that gaudy, over-the-top second wedding to ol’ gramps. Or maybe it’s the all-too-frequent air play on Canadian FM or the chest thumping theatrics in every show.

Say what you will, but that woman knows how to put on a show.

From the minute she first appears on the stage, singing “A New Day”, it’s hard not to be blown away by it all --- everything from the stage, featuring the world’s largest indoor LED screen with shifting images of city skylines and brilliant starry skies to the 59 performers in choreographed routines reminiscent of some of the stuff you’d see in a Cirque du Soleil show.

In the 4,000-seat Coliseum, we were sitting pretty high up. It felt like every time we made our way up one flight, we were directed by the ushers to head up yet another floor.

But the strange thing is, no matter where you’re sitting, it’s still a great view. In some ways, it was even better to be sitting up high enough to take in everything. (Except for the small fact that when Celine walks out, she looks like a little GI Joe figure strutting across the stage.)

A couple of times, they had to zoom in on her and it was only then that you had a real sense of, “Wow. She’s actually there on that stage.”

You know how some artists sound really bad live? Or how they’ll start off strong, but then you can hear the cracks beginning to seep through as the night wears on?

Not so with Celine. She’s got an amazing set of pipes and it’s enough to send shivers down your spine when you first hear her singing something familiar like, “Power of Love”.

Okay, I admit it: there were a couple of moments where my head started to feel like an anvil supported by a toothpick and my eyelids were like Venetian blinds, ready to snap shut at any second.

Aaron and Jen, on the other hand, were sitting right on the edge of their seats, eagerly leaning forward and clapping enthusiastically.

There was this one woman in the back, who kept howling, “Ai ya ya ya ya!” like some Mexican bandito in a really bad western after every single damn song. It got to the point where I wanted to crawl over the seats and wring her neck.

Holy cripes.

Aaron actually bought water at the concert --- $5 water. Later, when I was waiting with him to pick out a souvenir, there was this guy selling more bottled water.

“Get your water here! Direct from Montreal! Drink it and you’ll sound just like Celine!”

As we made our way back to the hotel, we stopped at the Bellagio again to see if we could wait things out and see the dancing fountain show. And after hanging around for a few minutes, we saw the first spout of water.

They call it a water ballet and I actually think it’s a pretty good way to describe the whole thing. It’s strange, but the one thing I kept thinking was how graceful everything looked.

At night, everything looks so pretty.

Don’t laugh, but I can actually see why people would want to get married here.

You want to know what the weird thing is? Even though we saw lots of couples in wedding garb at the various hotels, I didn’t see a single tacky chapel --- not like the ones you’d see in bad sitcoms.

I half-expected to see them on every street corner, sort of like the way we have Tim Horton’s on every corner back home --- that and Korean or Asian churches.

I think it was close to midnight by the time we made it back to the hotel --- so, it was about 3 a.m. Toronto time. And we still had to be up around 5:30 the next morning for Grand Canyon trip.

Day Two - March 25, 2005 - Grand Canyon

I’ve been told that I lie like a corpse when I’m sleeping.

Aside from some major teeth grinding, I don’t really flail around on my bed like some fish out of water. And I don’t think I snore --- well, there was that one time, I made that little snorting noise and woke myself up, but I think that was a one-time deal.

So, don’t quote me on the exact details, because I don’t think I was all that conscious when it happened, but sometime after we all managed to become dead to the world, I woke both Flo and Jen up.

I could have sworn I heard the alarm go off, which made me sit bolt upright. I didn’t even check to see the time --- not that it would have mattered, since I’m practically legally blind without my glasses on --- but I was convinced we’d all missed the alarm and that we were going to be late for the shuttle bus that was picking us up around 6 a.m. to take us to the Grand Canyon.

“Oh my God! Oh my God! We didn’t hear the alarm! We’re going to be late!” I gasped, waking up both Flo and Jen.

“What time is it? Are you sure?” Jen asked, sitting up, too.

Flo squinted at the time. “It’s only 2 a.m.”

Or at least that’s what they told me.

Just as suddenly, I’d flopped back down onto the bed, like I’d been shot by some elephant-sized tranquilizer dart, fast asleep even before my head hit the pillow.

When it was really time to wake up, I lay in bed for a moment, wondering if I’d imagined it.

Flo tried not to laugh.

“Oh, it happened, all right,” she assured me. She did a humiliating play-by-play, demonstrating just how stupid I looked.

“Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!” I said, yanking the covers over my head, so I wouldn’t have to watch anymore.

Aaron had managed to sleep through the whole thing --- which is weird, ‘because we’d all been expecting him to be the worst one to sleep next to. He’d even warned us ahead of time that he’s a bit of a kicker and that some people have actually gone as far as to grab their pillows and blankets and sleep on the floor rather than sleep next to him.

Nobody really wanted the dubious honour of having to sleep next to him, so I suggested that we all take turns so that we’d all get a chance to be kicked by him, rather than having only one person suffer.

But according to Jen, sleeping with Aaron wasn’t so bad. On the bus ride to the Grand Canyon, Aaron asked Jen, ““So, how was it for you?”

Jen gamely played along, hamming it up in the role of the unsatisfied lover, pouting over the numerous ways Aaron could make it up to her.

When we made our way downstairs to wait for the shuttle bus, we kept joking about how the tour was probably a complete fraud and that we should only start to panic when the bus wasn’t here by 6:30 a.m.

They’d told us to be ready at 6:10 a.m. --- which is kind of a strange time ‘cause it’s so exact, you know? It’s not like 6 a.m. or 6:30 a.m.

We tried to convince ourselves that it wasn’t really all that cold outside, even though we knew from the link that Flo had sent us that the weather forecast for the Grand Canyon called for overcast skies and snow and a high of 20C.

How the hell is that even possible?

We were all wearing basically the same outfits we’d been wearing from the day before because it was too cold to wear any of the summery stuff we’d brought.

I seriously thought that the little shuttle bus that arrived at precisely 6:10 a.m. was the shuttle bus we’d be taking all the way to the Grand Canyon. And it worried me that there didn’t seem to be any washroom on board.

Aaron had skipped out early to grab some bottles of water for us from the pharmacy/convenience store next to our hotel. But with no washroom in sight, I was afraid to drink it.

My lips were chapped and cross. I couldn’t seem to stop chewing on the dead skin. Jen said it was because I was dehydrated. Unlike me, she was constantly drinking water --- yet, she never had to go pee! She was like some sort of camel or something.

Thankfully, the shuttle bus wound up taking us to this depot out of which Vision Holidays operates its tours. There was a large coach waiting in the parking lot. And from a short distance, I could also see helicopters.

We went inside to complete the registration process.

Jen got annoyed because the huge group of Japanese tourists behind her kept crowding into her space.

When I was trying to sell Jen on the whole Grand Canyon bus trip, I kept focusing in on the fact that not only would we get to chow down at an all-you-can-eat buffet and that they’d give us a free muffin and drink for breakfast, but that they’d show us not one, but two, recent movies.

It was a little too early to be eating, but I tried to force down the huge chocolate muffin, anyways, and drained the little cup of apple juice --- both of which were sickeningly sweet.

Jen stocked up on some junk food at the little gift shop --- but it wasn’t even the good kind of junk food. It was stuff like salted pumpkin seeds and the kind of crap candy you get at Halloween that you wind up recycling the next day to your co-workers.

It didn’t take all that long for us to fall asleep once we were on our way, even though the driver, a Mexican American named Tony was pretty entertaining. He’d been an extra in “Fools Rush In”, where he had to play a Mexican --- which he said wasn’t all that hard to do.

As soon as he mentioned he was in that movie, I was convinced he looked familiar.

Even though I thought his accent was really neat, I couldn’t understand him half the time. He mentioned that he’d switch with another tour operator once we got to the restaurant for the buffet and that the guy looked like someone who rides a “Holly Davis.”

It took me entirely too long to figure out that he meant Harley Davidson.

We headed out of Las Vegas Valley towards Hoover Dam, making a quick pit stop along the way so that the Hoover Damn police could do a quick inspection.

“Make way for the ‘dam’ police,” Tony said, as a middle aged guy with Ray Bans skipped onto the bus.

The cop methodically opened the overhead bins and peered inside each one, all the while making idle chit chat.

He wanted to let all of the ladies know that he moonlighted at a Vegas show called “Cheap’n’dales” and that he’d ordered a thong from Martha Stewart online, but he’d had had to wait five months to get it.

Ha ha.

As the Tony steadily wended along the winding mountainside, there were times where the mammoth bus was so close to the rail that it was practically scraping metal.

“You want me to drive any closer?” he teased. “If you look over the railing, you’ll be able to see the metal and tires from the last tour bus.”

Tony let us get off at Arizona Lookout Point so that we could take some pictures. And as we got out, it was amazing to peer around.

When we hopped back onto the bus, Tony stuck in a PBS video about the history of Hoover Dam --- which made most of us promptly pass out from sheer boredom.

I drifted in and out.

A cool fact that I learned was that the last man to die on the building project died 13 years to the day of the first man to die while building the dam --- and that man was his father.

As I leaned back and stared out the window, watching the huge stretches of rock and jagged green hills spread out before me, I had this sense of, “Wow. I’m here.”

Do you ever get that sense, sometimes? When you see nothing but the clearest of blue skies above you --- and it’s so clear and blue that it almost hurts your eyes? And the sun colours everything around you, making everything seem sharper, brighter, and clearer?

It’s like there’s vast stretches of nothing around you --- not a single building or person…just this solitary grey strip of asphalt that cuts through the landscape.

You know what it made me feel?

Free.

I couldn’t help but think about one of my favourite John Mayer songs, where he sings, “You should have seen that sunrise with your own eyes. It brought me back to life…today I finally overcame trying to fit the world inside of a picture frame.”

It was sort of like waking up from a long, long sleep --- because, sometimes, that’s how I feel. It’s like you get used to this routine that you call life and you start sleepwalking your way through it, forgetting that there’s still so much out there to see and do.

If I had to pinpoint the exact moment I felt happy on that trip, it would be that moment.

I had to poke Jen awake a few times so she wouldn’t miss out on the scenery.

When the bus rolled into Klingman, Arizona for a 15-minute rest stop, Flo and I thought we’d be bypassing the line-up at the Mobile gas station by using the washroom on the bus.

She yanked open the door while an old man was still in it. (The lock doesn’t work properly inside.) And when she went to use it, she soon discovered that the toilet didn’t flush properly and that there was no running water in the sink. She just used to Purell, instead, and I shrinked away in disgust when she tapped me on the shoulder to ask me a question.

The experience was so vile that I decided to get out and go to the gas station’s washroom instead.

While we were there, Aaron found a cow sign, which, of course, he had to get, ‘because his thing is that he likes cows.

He also saw a Chinese restaurant in the distance called, “House of Chan.” He took a couple of pictures of it ‘cause I guess the novelty of finding a restaurant bearing his last name is too good to pass up.

The first movie the driver popped in was “Cellular”.

It’s an action/thriller about a woman who’s kidnapped and locked in an attack who manages to call a complete stranger’s cell phone by tapping the wires of a mangled phone. In a race to reach her husband and save herself and her family, she works with this hot, young guy to figure out who her kidnappers are and what they want.

It’s a little over-the-top, but it was fast-paced and entertaining, which helped to make the time go by really quickly.

By the time the movie finished, we’d driven up over 3,000 feet above sea level. Our ears were already popping and the change in weather was really drastic. There was snow everywhere --- in thick blankets of white and whipping wetly against the window panes.

It was like we’d never left Toronto.

I asked Flo to take a couple of pictures of me, Jen, and Aaron. We huddled together, with Aaron squishing into the seat with me and blocking Jen’s head completely.

Tony regaled us with dire warnings about how easy it is to die at the Grand Canyon.

He told us that there were about 30 suicides there each year, a couple of murders and around 50 accidental deaths --- all by falling over the rim.

He said the number one killer is stupidity --- when people lean too far over the edge to try and one more picture.

“You do not want to reach the point of no return,” Tony warned us ominously.

Jen and I exchanged faux looks of alarm.

You know what was really strange? The snow filled areas weeded out after awhile and we were back to cloudy, overcast skies but green grass and bare trees.

As we neared the Quality Inn Hotel, where we’d be having our 40-minute buffet lunch, Tony decided to give us some tips.

“Don’t be shy. Don’t think about what other people are going to say. If you want four plates, get four plates. Get the four plates at the same time if you want --- it’ll save on the line-up time.”

He added, “Make sure you don’t do any kind of hurling on the bus.”

He claimed the buffet at the Quality Inn was $18.99 per person, but that if we were talking Vegas standards, it was on par with the kind of stuff you’d get at an $8.99 restaurant.

“It’s sort of like buying a Big Mac for $10 here,” Tony said.

“I’m not paying $10 for a Big Mac,” Aaron whispered. “Make sure you write that down.”

The food was just okay. It wasn’t particularly good. But Tony wasn’t kidding about the long line-up. It snaked all the way out into the front lobby of the hotel.

At first, we were going to seriously take Tony up on his suggestion of having one person grab a plate full of meat, another person grab a plate full of veggies, etc., but the selection wasn’t all that great.

They try to trick you by planting drinks and bottles of wine in the middle. If you take one, you have to pay extra.

The guy who took over from Tony after lunch was a big, burly guy with a grey pony tail named Mike.

The Quality Inn Hotel was just outside the Grand Canyon National Park gates, but getting in took about 40 minutes because of the long line up of cars waiting to get in.

It costs about $20 per car just to get inside the national park. Mike told us that for tour bus operators, it could cost upwards of $40. (I think. I don’t remember anymore. It just seemed like a ridiculous amount at the time.)

Mike told us that the Grand Canyon’s the only park where people actually live. About 2,000 live in the Grand Canyon and they’re all employees of the national park.

He said that the kids who live there only have a four-day school week --- sweet!

It seemed like Mother Nature really co-operated with us. As Mike drove us around the southern rim of the canyon and we got out at Bright Angel Trailhead, it was like it suddenly stopped freezing (though it was still cold ---- you’ll notice in the pictures that we’re all sort of hunched over, trying our best not to shake like epileptics in the throes of a seizure) and the sky opened up to let a few anaemic-looking rays of sunlight trickle through.

We’d joked that we were just going to see a big hole in the ground, but I don’t think any of us had any idea what it’d be like to actually stand there.

Considered one of the seven natural wonders of the world, the Grand Canyon spans 446 km. We were only touring the South Rim, which is open all year, while the North Rim only opens from mid-May to mid-October.

The North Rim’s actually 1,000 feet higher and about 10F colder than the South Rim. Who knows? If we’d actually gotten a chance to see the North Rim, we would have been slogging through ankle-deep snow.

Mike told us to walk straight through the Bright Angel lodge --- in through the front entrance and out through the back. (Impossible not to follow those kind of instructions, but when you’re talking about us…and yes, for a brief moment, upon entering, I just stood there and thought, “Where do we go now?”)

Pushing open the door and finding a low brick wall (seriously --- it didn’t even reach up to my hip), I tentatively walked up closer to it. (Both Tony and Mike’s warnings about how easy it is to fall to our deaths was still first and foremost on my mind.)

I don’t think anybody really has any clue about how breathtaking and awe-inspiring the view is until you’re standing there, peering over the cliff and all you see is the great chasm that cuts through the rocks of the Colorado Plateau.

At the Kolb Studio (which is really nothing more than a gift shop), it was possible to make your way out through this really rocky ledge to take more pictures.

Because of the weather, there were huge puddles that made it difficult to make our way along the rough-hewn area. All I can say is take your time and move as slowly as possible.

You can probably actually make out the stone staircase and the rickety railing from the picture on the left.

Seriously, it wouldn’t have taken much to fall over the ledge and become the 51st person to die at the Grand Canyon that year.

Standing there and looking into the canyon sort of feels like you’re looking out over the edge of the world.

People were talking in hushed voices, like we were in a church and the overwhelming quiet was such a marked difference from the bustling chaos of the Vegas Strip.

Jen scared the hell out of me when she decided to take a couple of gag photos of her falling over the ledge and into the canyon.

I turned around and warned her I wasn’t looking ‘cause if she fell in that was the last thing I wanted to see.

Mike promised us that the second stop along the rim offered an even better view.

You really had to wonder how the hell people managed to build observation decks and buildings in this place. Just trying to make my way down was a little scary --- but then again, I’ve never really dealt with heights all that well.

Almost as soon as we got back onto the bus, the sky seemed to split open and flurries began whipping down. It’d already started to feel a lot colder by the time we reached the second stop and it was almost a relief to be back on the bus.

Mike pulled back in at the Quality Inn and insisted on shaking everybody’s hand before leaving. And by shaking hands to “thank” us, he really meant he was coming around to get his tip.

I pulled out $5 to cover all four of us and I felt kind of weird because I felt like a little speech was called for. But I think he really just wanted me to give him his money and be done with it.

Before we left on our trip, I’d run into Aaron on the subway and when I told him this was the first time I’d be going on a trip with my best friend, he gasped and cried, “Me, too!”

I like these two pictures that we took while on the bus ride back to Vegas. Sure, you can’t see the Grand Canyon or the Hoover Dam in these pictures or even much of the bus, but I think I’ll always look back on these pictures and remember that day.

On the drive back, Tony put in “Dance with Me”, but by then, I was really sleepy and it didn’t take long for me to fall into a deep sleep.

When we stopped at a gift shop/convenience store at Kingman, Arizona, we decided to load up on junk food to tide us over until we got back to Las Vegas, which could possibly be around 9 p.m. or 10 p.m.

Jen’s a chocoholic all the way, but Flo and I are into chips. We grabbed a couple of bags of chips and some chocolate bars, but before we paid for everything, we found a rack full of key chains.

We managed to find four sets of key chains with all of our names on them. Flo couldn’t resist laying them out on a cardboard box and taking a picture of them.

It was pitch black by the time we neared Hoover Dam and by then, Jen was actually really alert.

While almost everyone around us was sleeping, we just sat up and talked about various things. I asked her if she thought we’d remember this particular moment years from now when we thought back on this trip.

There’s something about sitting there in the dark that makes it easier to say certain things.

Jen said that she was glad she’d gone on this trip --- that it was comfortable and that she felt free to be who she was.

“You know how you can tell I feel comfortable around you guys? It’s because I wouldn’t have bought all that chocolate and candy. I would have been too embarrassed, wondering what you guys would think.”

As we neared Vegas, we did a quick mini-conference. I reasoned that it didn’t make much sense for the driver to drop us off at our hotel and then for us to get a cab to take us all the way to old Vegas and then take a cab back.

Why not have Tony drop us off downtown?

Jen went up to the front of the bus to see if it was okay with him and he nodded. It was kind of funny, ‘cause when the four of us were the only ones left in the bus, we moved up to sit closer to him and he switched the radio station from one that played Mexican soft rock to a station that played Jay-Z for our benefit. He bobbed his head to the beat and we couldn’t help laughing.

I had to get his tip ready and I peered in the dark, hoping I wasn’t being stupid and handing him a $50 instead of a $5.

He dropped us off in front of the Main Street Station, which the guide books had said offered the best buffet in all of Vegas.

We jumped off, more awake than we’d been all day. Jen, Aaron and I huddled together in front and had Flo take a blurry picture of us.

So.

It turns out that we got to the Main Street Station buffet 30 minutes before it was set to close at 10 p.m. The waitress asked if we were game to wolf down as much as we could cram in --- with only half an hour to do it.

The thing about buffets? It’s probably not a good idea to go in, feeling rushed.

As we heaped our plates full of food and got back to the table, we soon discovered that snacking on junk food all afternoon hadn’t helped our appetites.

Jen wound up eating nothing but fruit and drinking water. And while I managed a plate full of crab salad and pick at a plate full of chicken wings, my stomach started churning in protest when I went back for a second round of food.

Aaron, thankfully, managed to eat enough for the four of us.

He had plate after plate of food and even had Jen go back and fetch him some more.

The funny thing was that he’d asked her to get a cup of butter to go with the crab legs, but instead of cup, she filled a whole bowl. And by then, we were all too busy laughing our heads off, posing for silly pictures as Jen --- pumped up on too much sugar, I think --- insisted on taking pictures with each one of us.

There was one picture of Jen and me where she was trying to feed me some crab legs and I’m shrinking away. The look of horror on my face was completely genuine.

Flo couldn’t resist taking a picture of Aaron holding up his greasy hands, slathered with butter.

Looking back now, I think that was the best dinner we had --- not because of the food, but because of the way we were all feeling. Maybe it was because we were all well rested after spending all day sitting in a bus, sleeping and now being back in Vegas, where all the bright lights made it feel like the night was still young.

After we were basically kicked out, we walked out of the buffet and into the casino, where Jen grabbed a glass of white wine and we first began to see Aaron’s love of slots.

I totally understand how people become addicted. You sit in front of a slot, drop in a quarter and give the handle a good yank, hoping that maybe everything will line up and all these coins will start dropping out, making you feel like you’ve won a million bucks (when in reality, it’s probably no more than $5).

The slots here are actually pretty cool, ‘cause you can put in $1 and then, when you win, they tally up the credits and then print out a ticket for you that you can either use at another slot or you can redeem with the cashier.

I managed to win about $7.50, though, when I think about all the quarters I’d donated into the machines, I probably only broke even.

Flo managed to get a picture of me sitting at the slot, looking slightly pissed off as all my money dwindled down to $0 yet again.

Jen didn’t gamble at all. She didn’t have any yen for it, while the rest of us became fixated, staring at the machines, as if expecting them to yield all the answers to the universe.

You sit there with your hand clued to the crank, hoping you’d win something and thinking that maybe the next time, you’ll win everything back --- and then some.

At one point, I saw this guy with all these coins spilling out of the machine. Flo made fun of me because she said I stood there like Keanu Reeves in “Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure”, murmuring, “Whoa!” like it was the most amazing thing I’d ever seen.

When we finally stumbled out, it still wasn’t particularly late. I hoped we didn’t miss the Fremont Street Experience, which was on the list of “Free Things to Do.”

The $70 million project is basically a pedestrian promenade flanked by 10 hotels in the centre of the downtown core, with a light and sound show overhead that features about 2 million lights.

When we first walked over there, a tribute band was playing with Ozzy Osborne and Kid Rock look-alikes. It was pretty crazy, but interesting all the same. We stopped for a minute while Aaron eyed the crowd for cute guys.

Not really sure when the light show was supposed to start, we ducked into the Golden Nugget, which promised tons of penny slots. But when we walked into the overwhelmingly smoky casino, we couldn’t find any.

At this point, I noticed a lot of people outside, staring up at the ceiling or craning their necks to stare at something. I figured the show must have started and dragged everyone back out again to watch as graphics were displayed above us and loud music boomed from the speaker system.

It wasn’t really what I was expecting, but I guess that I’d reached a point where I was getting tired and wanted to get back to the hotel so I could actually stretch out and sleep. (Though, you’d think that because we’d been sleeping all day on the bus, I wouldn’t be sleepy anymore. But then again, you’d be underestimating how much I adore sleeping.)

I agreed to walk with the other three all the way down the promenade to see what was at the end. But all we found was a Walgreen’s, which Aaron insisted on checking out. He suggested that we buy some water now. Jen reasoned that it’d make more sense to buy it here, since we were taking a cab back to the hotel, anyway.

When we got to a more crowded area, I was a little unsure how to hail a cab. None of us had done it before because we were all used to either taking the TTC or driving ourselves everywhere back home.

But as this one cab dropped off a couple, the driver noticed us standing around uncertainly and waved us over.

Las Vegas at night is an interesting place. It’s almost enough just to sit in a moving car and watch the streets go by.

By the time we got back to our hotel and showered and got ready for bed, it was late. We lay in the dark for a bit, just talking.

Aaron told Jen she could have the bed to herself the next night, which she was really happy about.

Day Three - March 26, 2005 - Exploring the Strip

I really couldn’t help waking up at 6 a.m. --- technically, it was already 9 a.m. in Toronto. So, instead of lying around in bed and trying to fall back asleep --- despite promises that we’d be able to sleep in today, I tried to quietly move around and get ready for the day, figuring it’d save time later and that I wouldn’t be hogging the bathroom when somebody else needed it.

But after I had brushed my teeth, I figured I might as well change since I was up. And because Flo was up, too, I thought the two of us could walk over to the Bellagio to pick up the tickets for tonight’s show.

We were set to see “O” --- which was the main thing I’d been looking forward to about Vegas.

I’d even bought the tickets to see the show before I booked the plane and hotel tickets! I’d discussed at length with the ticket salesperson about the pros and cons of sitting centre row but far away and sitting five rows back from the stage, but off to the side.

I was a little wary about the fact that they were “wet seats.”

“Well, it’s not like you’re at Sea World or anything,” the ticket person assured me.

Jen and I joked it would have been funny if we’d shown up in our bathing suits.

It was nice outside that day when Flo and I made our way to the Bellagio. We noticed quite a few people already up, jogging up and down the streets. We took our time, strolling at a leisurely pace, and taking in the sights and sounds around us.

I had one of Aaron’s walkie talkies tucked into my bag. We’d had a hard time figuring out the frequency at first, because we kept picking up bits and pieces of other people’s conversations.

I think all of the static hiss and strange voices woke up Jen.

I tried to tell her to go back to sleep --- and I’m not sure if she and Aaron did, but I was ready to get out there.

At the Bellagio, there was already a huge line-up for the buffet. It was insane. When Flo and I made our way through the casino, it was a little bizarre to see people already at the gaming tables. I bet some of them were still there from the night before.

When we made our way to the box office, it wasn’t open yet.

I insisted that we check out the washrooms at the Bellagio while we were there. And I’ve gotta say, they’re the best washrooms I’ve ever had the chance to pee in.

When I finished, I ducked into the pay phone area to use the walkie talkie, trying to get a hold of Aaron and Jen to let them know that we’d be a little late heading back to the hotel because the box office wasn’t open yet, but the walkie talkies didn’t work in the hotel.

I did something very Chinese at that point.

I noticed a Bellagio pen and pad of paper. Without really thinking, I swept both into my bag and walked away.

Flo and I decided to go walk around a bit while we waited for the box office to open. While we were walking down the semi-circular drive, we saw the water fountains “practising” or doing a run through. We watched for a bit and then made contact with Jen and Aaron, who told us they’d be meeting us in a little while.

While Flo and I were walking around the outside of the Paris hotel, we noticed all these coupon books. I found a coupon for $2 off the Eiffel Tower ride and made a point to tuck it into my bag.

We managed to pick up the tickets and meet Jen and Aaron back outside. What do you know? The walkie talkies actually came in pretty handy.

We decided to grab breakfast at a boulangerie in the Paris hotel. The breakfast croissant there came with either orange juice or coffee and it only cost $4.25 --- which wasn’t too bad.

The place was pretty crowded, though, and we had Flo and Aaron try to find seats while Jen and I got the food.

Aaron marvelled over how strange it was to be in the middle of Vegas, but eating in what felt like a Parisian café.

Though I love the Bellagio, I think Paris is amazing. It’s so quaint and charming.

With the $2 coupon, the trip up the Eiffel Tower only cost us $7 each. If it had cost more, I think we would have balked and said, “To hell with it.”

It was really neat making our way up the escalators and having a view of the casino as we crossed the walk-through.

As part of their ploy to rip even more money off of the tourists, they have each group pose at the base of the Eiffel Tower, hoping that we’d be suckered in by the picturesque backdrop into buying a souvenir picture.

Aaron muttered that they were just wasting their time and resources doing this.

We were part of the first group up that day.

I think the elevator attendant was the only person in the whole casino who was actually French.

As we made our way up, she told us that the Eiffel Tower in Vegas was exactly half the size of the one in France and that it was built using the same blueprint as the original.

When we reached the top, I was a little disappointed to see a wire mesh obscuring our view --- though I don’t know what I was really expecting. I mean, if they’d left it wide open, I would have probably glued myself to the walls, unable to move an inch forward, for fear of plummeting to my death. (Like I said before, I’m not too good with heights.)

The view from there was really amazing, though. I have a feeling it would have been even better at night, when we could have seen the fountain show across the street.

The attendant said that on really windy days like this one, the Bellagio forgoes the water ballet.

We slowly made our way around the tower and took several pictures of the strip.

Jen had a hard time picking out the Boardwalk and we kept trying to point it out to her.

“I don’t understand why I can’t see it!” she kept saying.

At the Flamingo, there’s a wildlife habitat that’s home to Chilean flamingos, penguins, swans and ducks. But the real draw to Aaron was the fact that he’d found a hotel where he could play the slots and find himself on a rather lucky winning streak.

Maybe it’s because I have an insanely small bladder, but I needed to pee as soon as I got to the hotel and I left everyone to walk through the habitat while I went in search of a washroom.

If you’re not a smoker, Vegas casinos can be a form of hell.

I swear to God, there was a woman smoking in the can. It was probably one of the saddest and most disgusting things I’d ever seen.

When I made my way back out again to meet up with the others, it turned out they’d already done the rounds and were now hanging around, waiting for me.

When Flo stopped to take a quick pee break, Aaron settled himself in front of a machine and promptly won a small sum of money playing the penny slots. Note the glazed look on his face as he lifts his hand up, poised to pull the crank one more time.

You know what’s neat, though? You can feed the receipt into an automatic machine that’ll give you your money --- I suppose it’s supposed to cut down on the time you’d otherwise have to wait for a cashier to give you the money. But waiting is waiting.

We walked up towards the Venetian, kind of debating whether or not we really wanted to take a gondola ride. It didn’t really seem like the gondoliers were doing any real work, hefting our weight inside the boat. It looked like they had a little motor under the gondola to help propel us along. So, instead, we decided we’d just walk around inside and see what it was like.

One of the best things about the Venetian is the ceiling. If you look up, you’ll find a really cool painting. Of course, it’s not as impressive as something you’d find in a place like --- oh, I don’t know --- the Sistine Chapel, maybe? I mean, you can be damned sure that no guy had to lie on his back for months at a time, meticulously painting something on the ceiling.

But still, it was impressive enough to make us tilt our heads back and admire for a little while.

When we first got to Vegas, Jen said she didn’t think four days was enough to explore the Strip. But what we’d begun to notice was that, if you’re not a gambler, there wasn’t really much to do after awhile.

All the casinos start to look the same after awhile. And even though it’s cool to walk around and look at the architecture of some of these places, it’s all basically the same in the end.

We crossed the street to check out Treasure Island, which has a free pirate show at night. But while during the day, not much was going on. We couldn’t help but notice they were using the huge space across the street, next to the Venetian, to build a gigantic-sized Walgreen’s. It was kind of strange.

From the inside of Treasure Island, you can actually take a free tram that connects to the Mirage, which is right next door. And even though it was probably faster to walk there, there’s a certain novelty about taking a tram --- especially when it’s free.

The Mirage during the day looks a whole lot better than it does at night. For one thing, we could actually see the “tropical rainforest” that’s right in the front lobby housed under a 100-foot-high dome with palm trees and waterfalls and gurgling lagoons.

But we only took a few steps in before we backed out again. There wasn’t really much else to see in the Mirage. We decided to make our way back to the Venetian, instead, to grab a ride on the Monorail down to the bottom of the Strip so that we could make our way up from the Luxor and back to the Boardwalk.

And I swear, this is one thing that I will always look back on and just shake my head over and wonder what the hell I was thinking.

A one way trip on the Monorail costs $3. An all-day pass costs $10.

I figured it made the most sense to get the all-day pass --- which meant we’d probably need to use it at least four times to make it worthwhile.

The trip from the Venetian down to the MGM Grand was trip #1. And it was the only trip that we took on the Monorail. Of course, we didn’t realize that at the time.

Flo actually spoke to me in Chinese while we were on the train. She told me to casually look over at the guy standing next to me. He had some weird birth mark on his nose. It was kind of hard not to stare, even though if I was in his position, I would have probably said something if I caught somebody staring at me.

The MGM Grand isn’t much to look at from the outside, but it’s actually really neat inside. It’s a lot more modern and there seems to be a lot more going on inside. You could walk around for what seems like forever and still not see it all.

It’s supposed to be one of the largest hotels in the world, with over 5,000 rooms, and come November 26 this year, it’ll be home to Ka, the biggest Cirque du Soleil show yet.

Each Cirque du Soleil show has a theme and Ka was inspired by the Egyptian belief that a spiritual double of our bodies follows us from one life to the next. I was more than a little disappointed that it wasn’t playing while we were there and just standing in front of the doors made me think that a return trip to Vegas was in order.

The entrance to the new Cirque show was right next to the Wolfgang Puck Bar and Grill, which was where we were planning on having dinner later that night when we met up with Peter.

We figured that since Wolfgang had been on Iron Chef, a restaurant bearing his name was probably pretty damn good.

We joked that we’d grudgingly allow Peter to treat us to dinner.

Much to my mortification, Aaron had sent Peter a copy of our itinerary, totally forgetting that I’d written that out as a joke. God knows what Peter was thinking if he bothered to actually read through it.

The only free thing to see at the MGM was the lion habitat, where, for a fee, you could get your picture taken with a baby lion. The trainer had to constantly stick his hand out in front of the lion’s mouth and then snap it away at the last minute to have the photographer quickly snap a picture.

We decided to take a pass on the picture.

We did linger around the gift shop for a bit, though. Jen plunked a furry lion’s hat on top of her head and I actually thought she was going to buy it. She kept saying how warm it’d be.

When we made our way back outside, we crossed over to the Excalibur, which was where we were initially going to stay --- except Martin’s friend, Jim, had complained it looked too “childish.”

To a certain degree, I could see his point. It looked like a castle --- but that was kind of neat, too.

The inside of the casino was pretty vibrant, though. Aaron asked us if we needed to pee again and I thought he needed to make a quick trip to the washroom, but what he really meant was that, while we were taking our time, he’d plant himself down in front of one of the slots.

Some of the hotels actually connect to one another. Luckily, there was a way to make our way through the Excalibur to the Luxor and while we made our way through the casino, we saw this gift shop.

Aaron asked if we could take a stop and we found all these really stylish, pimp-like hats. (Not that I’d know what a pimp would wear. I just keep thinking about that Seinfeld episode where Kramer borrows the jacket from a production of Joseph and the Amazing Technicolour Dream Coat and he’s mistaken for a pimp as he struts down the street with a bejewelled stick.)

Do you know what there’s a lot of in Vegas? Moving sidewalks. Isn’t that ultimate in laziness?

Rather than walk, we got onto the moving sidewalk and watched the ads around us.

There was this strip show called “Thunder From Down Under”, which we joked about going to see. Now that I think about, we probably should have gone, just for the hell of it --- it would have been a riot to tell people about later on.

The Luxor was probably the one hotel that I looked forward to seeing the most.

A 30-storey, black glass pyramid that sits at the south end of the strip, the Luxor seemed every bit as mysterious to me as the real Pyramids would have been. I mean, when you’re standing at the base of the Luxor, you can’t help but look up and wonder how the hell they managed to build that thing or how hotel guests manage to get up to their rooms, for that matter.

Later on that night, when we were having dinner with Peter, he told us he’d actually stayed at the Luxor before and explained that there were inclinators that travel sideways at an angle to take guests up to their rooms. (The web site says it’s at a 39 degree angle --- just in case you were curious.)

By the time we made our way outside, it was actually pretty warm.

It would have been nice if the Monorail was just right there and could have saved us the hike back up towards New York-New York.

With its busy façade of a faithfully replicated New York skyline and a roller coaster called the Manhattan Express winding its way through the exterior, the hotel looked like one of the more fun and interesting places on the strip.

New York-New York is also home to yet another Cirque show called Zumanity, which seemed a little R-rated.

“We should have gone to see that one,” Aaron and Jen both said, when we saw the posters hanging inside.

The ads seemed to promise lots of flesh and titillation. The show is supposed to explore “the limits of human sexuality.”

“We have to come back and see this,” Aaron said when we left.

I’d pulled out the Monorail map to see where we were. As usual, we’d left the carefully drawn-up itinerary in the hotel and I vaguely remembered that Mr. Lucky’s 24/7 was at the Hard Rock Casino, which is off the strip.

How could we not go to Mr. Lucky’s? It’d been mentioned in several Las Vegas guide books and it was even profiled on Rachel Ray’s $40-A-Day show on the Food Network as a good place to go for cheap eats.

And how can you resist when Rachel Ray is moaning orgasmically over a piece of steak and shrimp?

Now, the thing is, on the map, it didn’t look like a far walk. All we needed to do was walk down past the MGM Grand, hang a left at the next major intersection (where, for some reason, I decided to run in front of a car…wasn’t really thinking at that point because I was delirious from the heat, I suppose), and then take a short walk down yet another street before turning into the Hard Rock.

In reality, do you have any idea how long we walked?

45 minutes.

45 agonizing minutes under the hot sun --- during which, I took off my jean jacket, and then my sweater. If I hadn’t reached the Hard Rock in time, I’m pretty sure I would have stripped off my tank top, too, and shown up completely naked.

We couldn’t even see the Hard Rock and several times, I had to endure repeated questions of, “Are you sure you know where you’re going?”

When we finally got to the Hard Rock, we were too exhausted to do much of anything besides slump dejectedly into a booth and impatiently wait for the waitress to bring us our order.

Actually, Jen was the only one who managed to walk without a problem. The rest of us are out-of-shape.

Okay. The $7.77 steak and shrimp combo? It wasn’t exactly worth walking 45 minutes for. We sat silently chewing, sawing through our meat and forcing every last bite down in an effort to make it seem like it was the best damn piece of meat we’d ever put in our mouths.

Sure, the price was great, but I wasn’t looking forward to walking all the way back to the strip.

I made it clear to the guys that I’d shell out for a cab to take us back to the strip to check out M&M World at the Showcase Mall.

Our taxi driver, however, started taking us in the wrong direction --- towards an outlet mall that was off the strip.

I might have been in Vegas for only two days, but I knew enough to know we were going in the wrong direction. He simply turned directions and stopped the meter, asking in his languid drawl if we thought the price was fair.

He cut through the back lot of the MGM Grand and every time he sailed over a speed bump, Aaron and I jolted out of our seats and Aaron would make this funny little hiccupping noise.

Aaron might have come to Vegas for Celine Dion and I might have gone for Mr. Lucky’s --- though I’d insist to the others that it was really for O --- but I think it’s safe to say that Jen went for M&M World, being the chocolate lover that she is.

With four storeys and every conceivable product bearing the M&M logo, it’s a little hard for the die-hard M&M fan not to feel like she’s died and gone to heaven.

Jen couldn’t help loading up on M&Ms at the dispensers, getting a little bit from the rainbow coloured wall, while Aaron found a little cow dotted with M&Ms.

Flo and I didn’t buy anything. I can take or leave M&Ms.

Besides, we wound up at Walgreen’s, where we could have bought a whole lot more M&Ms for a whole lot less.

We picked up some snacks for the plane ride home, knowing enough now that we probably wouldn’t be fed on the ride back.

We headed back to the hotel to quickly shower and get ready for the show, which was supposed to start at 7:30 p.m.

It was warm enough at that point for me to change into the skirt and t-shirt that I’d brought with me specifically for the shows.

Aaron felt compelled to give us this mini-lecture before the show, telling us that when we met Peter, if he wanted us to take a cab to the MGM, we shouldn’t make a big production about how we needed to use the Monorail again. (Okay. I admit it. I was a little hardcore on my insistence that we use the Monorail again. Even if it was out of the way and easier to just walk to the next place.)

Jen and I decided to get a glass of Chardonnay before the show. While we sipped our white wine at the bar and watched the fountains through the window, Aaron and Flo sat at the slots. It was the first time we’d actually decided to do a bit of drinking.

It was kind of exciting just making our way to our seats. The theatre was beautiful and sitting five rows from the stage promised to give us a really great view of the performance.

Drinking the wine before the show was a big mistake. I thought I could hold out on peeing, but with minutes to go before the show was set to start, I knew I had to be kidding myself if I thought I could sit through a show about water and not want to pee all over my seat.

I ran like a mad woman, dashing to the washroom and back.

But the minute I got back, I needed to go again.

Memo to self: refrain from drinking any type of liquid before a show starts.

We were really off to the side, but when the curtain opened up, it didn’t really pose any sort of problem in watching the show.

The show is supposed to be inspired by the concept of infinity and features everything from synchronized swimming to aerial hoops and high diving.

There was so much going on that if you blinked, you wound up missing something.

When the show started, there was a blast of fog from the ceiling as a ballerina emerged, suspending in mid-air, spiralling as performers ran through the audience towards the stage.

One thing that’s not-so-great about sitting up front? The chance of being pulled up on stage. Didn’t realize this at first, but when they pulled this guy on stage, it turned out that he wasn’t really part of the audience. He was actually part of the show.

But I didn’t realize this until he was yanked bodily off the stage and then “forced” to jump off a high dive platform.

There were times when the acrobats were using the aerial hoops are jumping off the barges that kind of made you gasp. I mean, there was a pool of water, but it wasn’t exactly an Olympic-sized pool and you couldn’t help holding your breath a little, afraid that one of them might land on the stage and break their neck instead of into the water.

And those four Mongolian contortionists? You watch them twisting their bodies and you can’t help but think, “Huh. I didn’t think the body could even bend that way.”

I think one of the more amazing sights was the fire act, where some guy was actually lit on fire --- and he just sat there as the flames engulfed him, calmly sitting there, reading the newspaper.

The main reason I wanted to see “O” was because I figured that if there was only one Cirque show that we could get around to seeing, it’d have to be this one --- it’s the only Cirque show that you can see in Las Vegas because of its water stage.

You could see how it was possible for the other shows to actually tour, but it seemed unlikely that “O’ was something that could be easily dismantled and taken out on the road.

We also opted to see the 7:30 p.m. show, even though they had another show at 10:30 p.m.

It’s just mind-boggling how these performers do everything that they do…not once, but twice in one night!

When the show was finished, we were supposed to meet Peter outside of the theatre.

I’d initially planned on picking up something there, but figured it was equally easy to simply pull images off the Internet and stick them in this journal, instead.

Peter was waiting for Aaron inside the gift shop and when he emerged, I was a little surprised --- he looked almost exactly the way he did in his picture…except, he wasn’t as tall as I’d imagined. And when I say “exactly”, I mean exactly. He was wearing a tank top and hat and baggy shorts just like the picture.

For some reason, Jen was thinking the same thing.

When we’d gone over to the MGM Grand earlier that day, Aaron was told by the maitre’d that we didn’t need reservations and that we could just walk in as long as it was before 10:30 p.m.

But as we glanced at the time, we knew we wouldn’t make it, so we walked across the street to Paris and went into the first restaurant that we saw, called Ah Sin. (Which was kind of funny for both Flo and I because our cousin’s name is Ah Sin.) The maitre’d assured us that the food was fabulous and as Peter said, how could we doubt the guy?

I didn’t really think we’d be eating Chinese food in a Parisian setting, but the food wasn’t too bad. We ordered a whole bunch of things from the menu and shared.

We all made our way back to the Boardwalk so that Aaron could pick up an overnight bag and the rest of us could change into pants and head over to the MGM Grand on the off-chance that we might bump into Martin and the boys over there.

Martin had left several messages, wanting to meet up with Flo so that they could spend some time together.

Instead of taking the Monorail --- like I’d wanted to --- we walked.

It was probably faster, anyway.

The MGM is a really neat place to drink and spend the night. I kept forgetting that it was a typical Saturday night and didn’t understand, at first, why there were long line-ups into the clubs.

We settled for drinks at the bar and sitting at the slots so that we could talk. After only a few drinks, Flo insisted on going back to the hotel at that point. She was all splotchy after one and a half drinks, which she’d been sipping slowly. She handed me the rest of her whisky sour and I drained it in a few gulps, not really feeling the effects.

When we got back to our room, Martin called and said he’d be coming down. Jen and I had already changed into our pyjamas and were lounging around in bed when he arrived. We didn’t realize all four guys were coming down, too, and Flo initially told them, “You can’t come in. They’re naked.”

Alarmed, they automatically turned around and started walking away when she told them she was joking.

They came inside and sat down with us, telling us about what they’d been up to.

“How much money did you guys lose?” I asked.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Alex said, with a shake of his head.

It turns out Jake had lost $500 in one day and that they’d spent more than $600 at an Italian restaurant at the MGM Grand.

They hadn’t spent the entire time in the casinos, playing poker like I thought they would. Instead, they’d caught the David Copperfield show and went out to a shooting range, where the target was a picture of Osama bin Laden.

Alex, it turned out, had hooked up with an older, married woman and was so busy making out with her at the casino tables that he wasn’t paying enough attention to the poker game at hand.

They joked that Jake had managed to get lucky, too, and that he got the pleasure of sleeping with Jim.

Jake didn’t seem as weird as I thought he’d be --- considering he seems sort of obsessed with Martin. I couldn’t help but wonder if he was uncomfortable when he noticed Martin and Flo leave the room.

At one point, it finally dawned on Jim that Martin and Flo weren’t in the room with us anymore.

“Where are they?”

“They went downstairs to your room,” I told him.

He rolled his eyes. “Aw, c’mon! Give me a break. Where’d they really go?”

“Downstairs to your room,” I repeated.

He shook his head in disbelief. “No way. Marty’s not like that. They’re probably downstairs in the casino or walking around.”

I never said that they were doing anything in the room. I just said they’d gone downstairs and I knew that they were probably just sitting around and talking. But Jim seemed to think I was implying something else. It was sweet, in a way, that he felt compelled to leap to Martin’s defence and insist that his friend was an “honourable” guy.

It was funny when Jen started guessing how much each of the guys weighed and inadvertently implied that Jim and Alex were both a little overweight.

When they finally left at 2 a.m., they got all formal on us and shook our hands. We didn’t bother getting up. We just lay in bed and watched them leave.

I don’t even remember when Flo came back to the room.

Toronto time was 5 a.m. and I felt like I’d been up 24 hours straight.

Day Four - March 27, 2004 - Homeward Bound

Since Aaron was over at the Bellagio already, we decided we’d head over there instead of waiting around at the Boardwalk. We figured we’d get a jump start on the line-up and then see if Aaron was there.

By a complete coincidence, we found him standing in line, exchanging money right in front of the buffet.

Luckily for us, there wasn’t much of a line-up when we got there.

When we went up to pay, we were a little shocked to discover that brunch would cost us a little over $30 --- each. When Aaron was paying for his breakfast, at first, we did a double-take. Was that $30 for all four of us or just one person?

We went in, anyway, and tried not to think too much of it.

The selection there was awesome, though. As Jen and I stood in line, waiting for our specialized omelettes to be made, we looked around at the selection, eyeing other people’s plates and making mental notes of what we’d be coming back for.

They even had dessert --- always a plus for any meal.

Maybe it was the fact that breakfast was costing us $30, but we all felt that brunch at the Bellagio was the best damn meal we’d had on our whole trip.

When Aaron ordered hot chocolate and it came with frothy whipped cream, I had to have some, too. And maybe it was all in my imagination, but I don’t think I’ve had better hot chocolate in my entire life.

I think we did a reasonable showing at the buffet and ate enough to get our money’s worth. I got this little custard with a fruit topping and the weird thing was that there was this one blueberry on the top that looked like it was covered in icing sugar. Or at least that’s what I thought it was.

“Is that mould?” Aaron asked, leaning forward to peer at it.

Of course, it didn’t really make much sense that a pastry chef at the Bellagio would miss the fact that he had a mouldy blueberry on his hands, but I still rolled it off my tart anyways and ate the rest.

While we were eating, Aaron gave us the low down on what a suite at the Bellagio looks like. He told us he still had the key and that, because he had to grab his stuff, anyways, we should go upstairs and take a look afterwards to see how the other half lived.

The room was on the eighth floor and as soon as Aaron pushed open the door, we were blown away by the view.

The room looked down directly onto the fountain and you had a breathtaking view of the Eiffel Tower across the street. Aaron insisted that we jump onto the bed and try out the pillows --- the best damned pillows in the whole world.

It was like resting your head down on a fluffy cloud.

If I’d brought a big enough bag, I would have taken it home with me. Pride be damned. We’re Chinese, damnit. This is the kind of shit we do!

Okay, maybe it was a combination of having spent the last few days in an average hotel and knowing that the Bellagio was the kind of place we couldn’t exactly afford to stay at for the time being that made the suite seem so much more opulent than it really was.

I think we must have spent over an hour in that room, just taking pictures and then lounging around in bed, watching TV.

Did you know that the TV in the Bellagio has five Chinese channels? We live in Toronto --- which practically seems like Hong Kong at times --- and we’ve only got two Chinese channels back home.

Our check-out time at the Boardwalk was noon, but we had to be outside, waiting for the shuttle bus to take us back to the airport around 11:45 a.m., to give us enough time to clear through customs.

As we were riding to the airport, Aaron was sitting next to me and he joked, “Hey, Jo, we can see the mountains from here. Maybe we should walk there, too.”

At the airport, we just had to get the one attendant who didn’t know what the hell she was doing. We stood there for a really long time, while she grew increasingly frustrated, trying to swipe our passports through the scanner so that she could print out our boarding passes.

We watched as Martin and his friends picked up their passes and headed up to the terminal, leaving us behind.

Eventually, everything worked out, but then, when we got to the security check, the machine was malfunctioning and we had to wait, yet again, for everything to be fixed.

When the security woman was going through Jen’s carry-on bag, it seemed like every compartment she looked at had some sort of chocolate crammed into it.

She joked that she’d have to confiscate the bag and they started calling her “bunny” --- as in the Easter bunny.

It was kind of lame.

After all that hassle, it was a relief to make it to the airport waiting area and to be able to just sit and wait.

Aaron started checking out guys.

There was a red-head sitting behind him and Aaron mouthed that I should check him out. I mouthed back, “How much would you give him?”

Aaron held up nine fingers.

When Flo looked at him, she was like, “Seriously? Five? What’s wrong with you? I think you need to get your eyes checked.”

This poor guy came over and sat down next to me and I think he knew what we were talking about and that at one point, we were covertly checking him out too.

He kept his eyes trained on the window and sat like a statue before getting up to sit somewhere else.

I confessed that I did something “really Chinese” and I dug out the pen from the Bellagio that I’d stolen.

Wordlessly, Aaron dug through his own bag and held up the exact same pen.

The two flights back were on Delta this time around and were for a lot shorter durations than the ones that took us from Toronto to Las Vegas.

Flying at night is really different. It’s a little more exciting, I think, to be able to look down and see all those lights in the various cities down below.

When we arrived at Cincinnati, we were worried we were cutting it really close. Our plane had to circle around because it was too close to another plane to land. And, of course, our connecting flight was at a terminal that was all the way across the airport from us.

When we got there, rushing a little, we discovered our connecting flight was delayed by 25 minutes.

Jen found a couple of tabloids in a seat next to her and offered me one.

What is it about the lives of celebrities that keeps us so captivated? It’s like we relish in their miseries. How sick is that?

Our connecting flight was on a much smaller plane and when we dashed out onto the tarmac, it was raining heavily and the cold water splattered uncomfortably on us as we the wind bit at our faces.

Looking back, do you know what I realized? No matter how you enjoyed the trip, it isn’t until a little bit later, when you can look back and you’re going through the pictures that the trip seems really fun.

I know that sounds strange, but I suppose it’s the way time sort of distorts memory and brightens everything, heightening the sights, sounds and experiences of that time together.

Who knows? Maybe we really will have to go back one day.