Vegas, Baby!

So, yesterday I mentioned that my family (mom, Jack, Tony and I) are going to Vegas in about a week and a half. This is a trip my mother has been talking about for years, every Christmas and New Years spent cajoling me, my brother and whatever husband I had at the time to spend the holidays next year in Sin City. It has been her dream that joining thousands of Japanese tourists blowing their hard-earned Yen on hookers, coke and gambling would really help us understand the "Reason for the Season."

However, I feel that Christmas is no time to travel, so we decided to go this summer as a joint birthday venture for mom and I and also because Tony and I are so mind-numbingly bored that we'll agree to any trip, anywhere. (World's largest ball of string in Spokane, Washington? I'm there!) Plus, I've never been to Vegas, and I've always wanted to get married there, but none of my husbands would agree to this. Something about violating the sanctity of marriage, which I found particularly touching this time around, since it marked the THIRD marriage for both of us. I told Tony that we weren't going to be the poster couple for Focus on the Family, no matter where or how we got married.

I digress. Mom has been hysterically excited ever since we booked the hotel room two months ago. She watched "The Hangover" the day it came out, and called Tony and I as soon as she'd left the theater, gushing about how it was the perfect movie to watch to plan our trip. Tony and I immediately rushed off to see it, after which I phoned HER and said that if anything remotely like that movie happened while we were in Vegas, I was going to leave her and anyone else I could behind and start over in Spokane. (I hear they have a great ball of string.)

After her obsession with that movie faded, she started reading The Unofficial Guide to Vegas and decided that she was going to learn how to play craps and become rich by "beating the system." I know, I know, at that point we should have had her committed, but she was so excited about the trip. For weeks I told her I would not stand by and watch her bet away her retirement at a craps table and that she should spend $20 on slots and then go to the buffet. Finally, a few days ago, she called, practically in tears. Seems she'd been reading and re-reading the craps section of the book and still couldn't make heads or tails of it. Now, I'm not one to rejoice in the crushing of the dreams of a senior citizen, but I was very happy to hear this.

A little backstory so you all don't think I'm a horrible daughter: the same night we made our reservations for Vegas, Mom, Jack, Tony and I played blackjack (or 21, for you purists) for a few hours. During that time, Mom managed to mis-count her cards several times, betting heavy on a 23 at one point, and continuously tried to "bluff" us when she had busted. In addition, she was making wild bets on crappy hands and nearly caused Jack to have a heart attack with the randomness of her game. His comment was that it was impossible to play with people who were this bad at blackjack. (He was including me in that statement, but I was being reckless on purpose. Stick it to the Man, I say!)

So, what I was looking forward to as a lovely, quick jaunt to a city known for its culinary delights (not even joking), where I could eat my way from one celebrity chef's restaurant to another without ever stepping out into the 3 billion degree heat has turned into a nightmare of epic proportions. Mom and Jack are coming this weekend and while she is out trying to catch and tame a turtle in our lake - her favorite Kentucky pastime, I'm going to call a group meeting whereby we set out gambling limits, a medication schedule and determine who carries Mom's money at all times.

Vegas, baby!