Breaking the rules

What happened in Vegas isn't staying in Vegas, which in and of itself, I suppose, suggests that I'm not a Vegas kind of gal.

This was my first time in Vegas, except for a brief stint in the airport during a layover on the way back from Los Angeles a few years ago (during which I won about 30 bucks on a slot machine). I didn't gamble in the airport this time, but I did win a little bit of money playing low-stakes poker. And that was plenty for me; although I'll hang out and watch while the Smelmooo plays Let it Ride or Roulette or whatever, I'm generally too cheap to gamble myself.

Speaking of too cheap, I was shocked at how expensive pretty much everything was in Vegas. The Smelmooo and I walked probably an extra three-quarters of a mile on our way back to the hotel on Thursday night so I could buy water at a convenience store rather than at one of the hotel shops. It's one thing to splurge on a fancy dinner or a show or something, but paying eight bucks for a banana is something I just can't stomach, on principle.

And generally, even the fancy dinners are wasted on me, because I'm both an incredibly picky eater and an incredibly plain eater. I am just as happy with a salad or a sandwich as a hundred-dollar meal. Nevertheless, I super-enjoyed the fancy meal we had at Picasso. I would never in a million years have chosen this restaurant, or eaten there if I had to pay for myself, but it really was extraordinary, from the food and wine to the real Picassos hanging everywhere to the view of the Bellagio fountains from our table. And, even though I was completely stuffed when I left, I couldn't turn down the gift-boxed cinnamon rolls that they offered the women in our group on the way out the door (one of many examples of the sexism in Vegas, although certainly not the most egregious).

I thought the Second City show we saw was okay, but not as good as the performance I caught a few years back in Chicago. I super-enjoyed the Penn & Teller show, and was particularly relieved when a woman two seats down from me was pulled up onstage, and not me (who knew that the eighth row or so back wouldn't be a safe zone?!). And I liked seeing all of the hotels and casinos, all the cheesiness and gluttony of the strip. But it was a little bit of sensory overload for me, and by the last night I was tired of all the cigarette smoke, the ads for "Hot Babes: direct to you in 20 minutes!" and the general hedonism and debauchery.

More my speed was the trip to the Grand Canyon, which also included quick stops at both the Hoover Dam and a chocolate factory. We didn't ride a donkey down to the bottom of the Canyon, a la the Brady Bunch, but we did venture out onto the west rim Skywalk, which was pretty amazing. I think I'd like to go back to visit the other side, to the National Park, where you can explore the bottom of the Canyon.

For now, I'm just happy to be home, although it occurs to me that it's quite a stretch between now and my next vacation at the end of June. I know, I know, I'm totally spoiled, but that's, as they say in Vegas, how I roll.