The sisters tour

So my mother and I went on our annual mother/daughter vegas trip this year and a good time was had by all. I’m going to call this the “sisters tour” because from the very beginning, it became a resonant chorus of “I thought you two were sisters.”

Seriously, from the very beginning at the Spirit counter- the fast bag drop counter that is. OK, fast bag drop. Let’s address this briefly, shall we. First of all, I think you have all considered my previous rants about how Spirit tries to FUCK you over on EVERYTHING, but does maintain surprisingly low prices on their tickets in that the intend to RAPE your ass on every other item on the plane.

For example, you can get a round trip ticket to New Orleans for $106.00…provided you don’t check or take on any luggage, drink any water or other refreshment, don’t mind not being assigned a seat, and basically don’t urinate or intake any oxygen in the course of the flight. I personally have mastered the art of sticking it to Spirit. To that end, I packed for four days in Vegas in my Ironman backpack which fits conveniently under the seat. I win again.

Anyway, we were at the fast bag drop which had ONE employee working as opposed to the full service- we will charge you for this- bag drop which had FOUR employees- waiting our turn. Finally after providing full service to like fourteen people who were in the wrong line in a blatant attempt to avoid the charge, the Spirit lady gestured us forward to review our ID’s.

“Parmer and Parmer…” she said. “You two must be sisters!”

Isn’t that sweet! I thought. How nice of her to say that to my mom. Clearly she is just being nice. So I said, “Yeah, that’s right we are sisters.” And we bobbed along to cram ourselves into the 12 inch by 12 inch seating into Vegas. Frankly, not a bad flight once you drop about five vodka sodas carried on with my liquids (thanks Carla) onto the deal.

Once in Vegas, the fabulous Golden Nugget picked us up in the Limo and took us to their very swanky new RUSH tower. I had requested that my casino host move us as the North Tower had recently had some A/C problems on visits. So here we were poised to go into the swanky, youthful new section of the Nugget. SWAGGY.

Anyway, we are checking in and the VIP lady says “Oh, you two must be sisters!” Ummm, Yes, yes we are. (It’s still cute, right?) Hmmmm…

Well, we met our friend Steve and his parents Carol and Nick- they were staying at the Wynn as Steve’s cousin is quite the big wig in the Wynn. But in our honor, they slummed it down to the Nugget where we shot craps and generally ate our way through $1000 at Vic and Anthony’s steak house. Awesome.

About 11:30, I was done, having suffered from my usual insomnia the night before. So I threw Steve out of the Nugget and told mom I was headed to bed. I took a Zquil (on top of several Scotches) and went to sleep.

Turns out I had thrown the dead bolt!!!! Poor Mom. She spent an hour trying to get someone on security to let her into the room, and then for some reason the bolt was mis aligned and they couldn’t throw it. Finally, she got in. I was literally dead to the world.

As an aside I would point out that I did NOT lock her out intentionally because everyone kept saying she looked like my sister. But I did offer to let her lock me out the next day. Terrible.

Anyway, the next day featured two hours on the bike (half IM in April with my Dad- who apparently caused an oil spill in Galveston in an attempt to avoid this race) and a massage with Mr. Clean- my all time favorite sports massage guy in the country. Felt like  a new person. Then we went to Rao’s at Caesars and had a fantastic dinner. The tables were $50 minimum, so back to the Nugget for more gambling fun.

Steve actually played slots, which was hilarious because he had no idea what was going on, but all of the sudden he had $300. Also, the little Thai cocktail waitress remembered me and said “doubles?”- so I’m pretty sure you know where this one ended. Ugh.

Sunday was Brunch at Bouchon which was, as ever, AMAZING. Get this…lobster benedict. WTH??? Lobster with hollendaise? Um yes please. Also, at one point my mom had three different champagne drinnks in front of her…my inquiry resulting in a “fuck you, Betsy.” But what are sisters for?

But here’s the best story. So that night we had reservations at the SW steakhouse at the Wynn. It’s one of those Chrome and gray places, where all the mean queen bitch ass waiters are wearing like chartreause pinstriped shirts and matching vest and skinny pant pinstriped vest/pants combos. We were so NOT TRENDY that the promptly ignored us for the first 30 minutes. Oh wait, did I mention Steve’s cousin who is like super important at Wynn…was with us? She looked like a lovely 50 year old lady, but was certainly not one with the techno music and basic LA “You are not even as good as your waiter” attitudes.

But we had a lovely dinner, finally having corralled a chunky waiter to take our order. Bless that chunk. Then…the bill comes.

Well, Steve’s cousin’s husband had ordered a small steak. Nothing special. Just “i’d like an 8 oz steak.” When the bill comes, that steak is $300. It seems they have brought him Wagyu…which is apparently Japanese for “we are going to fuck your eyeballs out on this steak.”

Steve very calmly explains to our skinny ahole waiter that he did not order Wagyu. To which this genius replies…after sighing noticeably “Sir, it says clearly on the menu it’s priced by the ounce. And he said Wagyu when he ordered.” EXCEPT this jack ass did not take the order so now he has LIED to Steve. Who is getting really really pissed off now. Bring us the manager.

Enter the manager, who much to my surprise, was actually thinner AND bitchier than our waiter. Steve explains the situation and  he leaves, presumably to change the tab. Nope. He returns shortly after and says, “I talked to the waiter and he says the gentleman did order the steak, and I mean, was it a good steak, sir. I mean you ATE it, right?”

Are you fucking kidding me? It’s at this point that I pull $2k in hundreds out of my pocket and throw $300 on the table and say “fuck these people Steve.” Steve calmly tells me to let him handle it. Which I knew, but my point was “listen asshole, I have more than your monthly take home in my pocket.”

So Steve tells the guy, “You have two minutes to figure it out.” After which the guy throws the check on the table and says “well, (SIGH) I guess that’s on us.”

The whole time all I can think is…you IDIOTS!!! There is a woman at this table with Steve Wynn’s cell number. Hmm, lesson learned I guess. I will say this, she was so classy and silent during the entire ordeal, I presume she was watching to see how they’d handle it.

I’m going with FAIL.

I will say the Wynn and Encore were absolutely gorgeous! And, I have permanently place Steve, Nick and Carol on my travel list. What a blast!

Oh, and just for reference, the last words spoken to me on the way out of the limo…You girls must be sisters! Hope you had fun.

I did have fun, Sis!

Never had to have a chaperone, no sir….I’m here to keep my eyes on her. 🙂

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