Sunday, Apr. 11, 2010
10:51 p.m.
<< [ Vegas - Thursday, Night One ] >>
At the airport, more wonder and disbelief. My only experiences with the airport were watching family members leave and return, never my own arrival or departure. Strange, traveling, stranger traveling to Vegas, stranger still traveling with my bosses.
I outgrew it quickly.
I lost my boarding pass in the airport. Stuck it in my back pocket, and turned around in line for food to find it missing. Spent thirty seconds panicking, then two minutes retracing my steps, then asked two janitors standing around what I should do. They were very kind, as most strangers on my trip would turn out to be, and told my inconsolable self to head to a customer service desk and they could print me another. I thanked them profusely, and turned around to find my pass lying on the ground.
Lesson one.
On the plane, I sat next to a middle-aged couple who weren't at all interested in talking to me. I leaned forward to talk to another manager and his wife. When the plane lurched forward, I gasped, "We're moving!" My manager's wife turned around and said, "I hope you're like this the whole trip, because you are hilarious."
I smiled at the middle aged couple in an attempt to charm them. My attempt was denied, so after takeoff, a cute boy a couple of years older than me with a whole row to himself said I could sit near him. I did. "Do you guys all work together?" he asked, after seeing me and my manager laughing together. "Yep," I said, "and we're headed to Vegas to run a half marathon together."
We pulled in over the strip, and I stretched and strained trying to see through the tiny windows. No luck.
There were slot machines right there in the airport, and that was the first and only time I thought that Sin City was aptly named.
We were practically the only ones down at baggage claim, damn near midnight and the fifteen of us standing around. Lady Gaga played on the big screens plastered on the walls. We tried to decide how to get to our hotel.
"How about a limo?" Said my soon-to-be Jack-and-Coke buddy.
"What about a cab?"
"There are too many of us for a cab, we'd have to get a bunch."
"Or we could do a limo," Jack-and-Coke tried again.
"What if we do a bus?"
"A bus is way too expensive."
"A limo's just fifty bucks for all of us," Jack-and-Coke kept trying. I smiled at him sympathetically, the only one listening.
"What if x, y, and z do a taxi, and then..."
"Or hey, what if we take a limo?"
"That's what I've been trying to say!" Said Jack-and-Coke. I laughed.
Fifteen of us piled into a stretch hummer limo, fifty bucks total to take us to our hotel. We flipped through music videos and watched as the owner of my company, completely sober, bumped and grinded and sang along to hip hop videos too vulgar for my tastes.
Our hotel was something out of a resort. Tropical themed, with half a million jacuzzis, hammocks, and waterslides. The fifteen of us split ourselves between two suites: one penthouse, one deluxe suite. The owner said people who wanted to stay in the penthouse should follow her, so follow her, I did.
Our room was gigantic. The main room was the size of my living room and kitchen combined, the master bedroom to the right (with a hot tub right there), a smaller bedroom to the left, and a balcony with a view of the strip, a view of the pool, and another hot tub from which to enjoy it. We shuffled ourselves about the rooms, and I ended up in the master bedroom with the owner of my company. My manager and his wife slept in the main room on the couch, and two other men slept in the other bedroom.
My manager, his wife and I ran to the Food Max across the street to pick up cereal and booze, staples of any half-marathon diet. Back in our room, we unpacked, then everyone met in our penthouse suite to get drunk and play games. We played the name game, then Mafia. Another manager who I work with closely was a member of the Mafia who had been cast under suspicion. It came for the townsfolk to vote for who they thought was a member, I voted for her. She cried, "Amanda! You always love me! I'm your boss!" I said, "I do love you, but that doesn't mean you're not a killer!"
The owner of the company just shook her head and said, "Amanda, she's not your boss, here."
That would be the theme of the week.
I passed out in the same bed as the owner.
That was the first night.