Day 317: Fortuitous
Sorry to all the lovely people who have been leaving me comments. The out-in-the-backwoods wifi we are experiencing makes blogging a long, drawn out, little circle spinning process and responding to fabulous commentators gets left in the red dust—please be patient. I will get back to you at some stage! Thank you.
And while I'm all conversational, does anyone know how to stop the god-darn-it spam visits. They are driving me nuts. It seems like I don't get as affected back home, but here in the States there are days when they number in the hundreds. I definitely know this little blog is not that popular. Any suggestions are greatly appreciated.
On with the day. This is a significant day and a day I had great plans for in the photo department, but I forgot, in the pre-departure scramble to change them from one electronic device to the other. It is Day 317. Now I find it because I see it, but there was a time when the number 317 would be coincidently everywhere—on the clock when I looked at the time, on the page when I gauged how far into a book I was, on a map reference when I had a refresher training at work, on a ticket waiting for my turn at a deli—everywhere? Disconcerting. I looked it up. It means, according to numerological sites I looked at, that you are on the right track. It was a right track kinda day.
Above: Irene Below: List_Addict
I had the idea that we would be with a motley crew of alcoholic, gambling addicts, jittery and desperate to get to Vegas. Turned out it was more a bunch of tourists, like us, on short stay package holidays. We were the only ones with one-way tickets. It was, all in all, a fairly uneventful trip and before we knew it we were wheeling suitcases through the expanses of Harrah's Casino trying to find the strip to cross over to Caesar's Palace—and then trying to find the reception in that massive place. I have to say that Americans do seem to be the masters of the on-sell. Our receptionist tried very hard to talk us into a 'bargain' upgrade. And if not that, a sneaky 'did you want to check in now?', which, being an hour before the official check-in time, would have set us back another half a night's rate. Stern thank-you, but no thank yous later, he started enquiring as to whether we were there for a special occasion. We cited the special occasion of not being at work. And we also let him know that my parents had stayed there in '88 and V——'s in 77'—we were continuing a tradition. I think he was desperate to find a justification for it, but we were not helping and so in the end, with some wiggling eyebrows, he upgraded us to a suite. Gratis. Although we did worry for an hour, over lunch, while we waited for the actual check in time, whether we may have misled him, and the twenty-five hundred a night was to be charged to our cards. Phew! Turns out not. The suite was in-sane!! Lounge, dining, king-sized bed in a king-sized bedroom, more closet space than my and V——'s houses back home combined, a dressing room style nook and three—count them, one, two, three—bathrooms. All with separate toilets, one with a jacuzzi and a twin shower between two of them. In-sane!!! It took a lot to leave the room.
My Fitbit in LA and Vegas has me marked as an over-achiever with fifteen to twenty thousand (real) steps each day. We walked up to the Luxor which seemed to take forever because you can no longer walk along the sidewalk. They have, between most hotels, built walkways over the road which both assist, I guess, with traffic seeing as there are no pedestrians, and assist with funnelling people into casinos where I am sure they are hoping you will get lost and spend all your money. But we had a show to get to, and an hour and a quarter to get there. It took us forty-five minutes and it is definitely not that far in a straight, casino-less line. We saw Chris Angel's Believe. Awesome, funny, fun. We walked back on the other side of the strip which had more footpath, a Mexican restaurant for dinner (including a humungous michelada) and Marshall's. Sacrilege, but I couldn't find anything I liked—maybe I wasn't in the right head-space for shopping. Shattered! Lucky we had somewhere nice to lay our heads—when we eventually got back. The only other thing that I think we should have done is spent some money on the slots, because so far everything else about this day was very 317.
(Sorry for the length of this post ... eek!)
Clockwise from Top: The Strip, from the walkway between MGM Grand and New York, New York; my giant michelada; the fountains at Bellagio
The Outfit
Top: Op-shopped
Skirt: Op-shopped
Photographer de Jour: V——
Who wore it better?
Getting linky today with:
And while I'm all conversational, does anyone know how to stop the god-darn-it spam visits. They are driving me nuts. It seems like I don't get as affected back home, but here in the States there are days when they number in the hundreds. I definitely know this little blog is not that popular. Any suggestions are greatly appreciated.
On with the day. This is a significant day and a day I had great plans for in the photo department, but I forgot, in the pre-departure scramble to change them from one electronic device to the other. It is Day 317. Now I find it because I see it, but there was a time when the number 317 would be coincidently everywhere—on the clock when I looked at the time, on the page when I gauged how far into a book I was, on a map reference when I had a refresher training at work, on a ticket waiting for my turn at a deli—everywhere? Disconcerting. I looked it up. It means, according to numerological sites I looked at, that you are on the right track. It was a right track kinda day.
I had the idea that we would be with a motley crew of alcoholic, gambling addicts, jittery and desperate to get to Vegas. Turned out it was more a bunch of tourists, like us, on short stay package holidays. We were the only ones with one-way tickets. It was, all in all, a fairly uneventful trip and before we knew it we were wheeling suitcases through the expanses of Harrah's Casino trying to find the strip to cross over to Caesar's Palace—and then trying to find the reception in that massive place. I have to say that Americans do seem to be the masters of the on-sell. Our receptionist tried very hard to talk us into a 'bargain' upgrade. And if not that, a sneaky 'did you want to check in now?', which, being an hour before the official check-in time, would have set us back another half a night's rate. Stern thank-you, but no thank yous later, he started enquiring as to whether we were there for a special occasion. We cited the special occasion of not being at work. And we also let him know that my parents had stayed there in '88 and V——'s in 77'—we were continuing a tradition. I think he was desperate to find a justification for it, but we were not helping and so in the end, with some wiggling eyebrows, he upgraded us to a suite. Gratis. Although we did worry for an hour, over lunch, while we waited for the actual check in time, whether we may have misled him, and the twenty-five hundred a night was to be charged to our cards. Phew! Turns out not. The suite was in-sane!! Lounge, dining, king-sized bed in a king-sized bedroom, more closet space than my and V——'s houses back home combined, a dressing room style nook and three—count them, one, two, three—bathrooms. All with separate toilets, one with a jacuzzi and a twin shower between two of them. In-sane!!! It took a lot to leave the room.
My Fitbit in LA and Vegas has me marked as an over-achiever with fifteen to twenty thousand (real) steps each day. We walked up to the Luxor which seemed to take forever because you can no longer walk along the sidewalk. They have, between most hotels, built walkways over the road which both assist, I guess, with traffic seeing as there are no pedestrians, and assist with funnelling people into casinos where I am sure they are hoping you will get lost and spend all your money. But we had a show to get to, and an hour and a quarter to get there. It took us forty-five minutes and it is definitely not that far in a straight, casino-less line. We saw Chris Angel's Believe. Awesome, funny, fun. We walked back on the other side of the strip which had more footpath, a Mexican restaurant for dinner (including a humungous michelada) and Marshall's. Sacrilege, but I couldn't find anything I liked—maybe I wasn't in the right head-space for shopping. Shattered! Lucky we had somewhere nice to lay our heads—when we eventually got back. The only other thing that I think we should have done is spent some money on the slots, because so far everything else about this day was very 317.
(Sorry for the length of this post ... eek!)
Who wore it better?
Getting linky today with:
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