I have seen the Vegas Ghetto

Sometimes we realize the gravity of our actions, not usually at the moment, but definitely later, and how if things just unfolded slightly different, the effect that it would have on our little Monkey World.

It's our last night in Vegas, and we were celebrating the 14 year wedding anniversary of my Man's work partner. After many Cabana cocktails, it was decided that a vow renewal would be appropriate, I knew that we wouldn't have the Star Wars themed one that was proposed, but definitely thought it would be fun to celebrate a classic Vegas Wedding.
Our Cabana, the wives in the forefront, the next door cabana occupied by 10 20something guys, that guy or maybe it was another one, asked us for our cups. I think he just wanted to check out us Cougars, to see if we were on the prowl.

After more shopping at Planet Hollywood's Miracle Mile, and a brilliant dinner at the Italian restaurant, we decided to hit the strip and find a chapel in old Las Vegas.

Dilemma #1: There is a maximum of 5 people per cab, even if it is a minivan, its' the law. There is 6 of us. Our cabbie actually admitted he believed this was in place because then us, fares/customers, would have to take two cabs. How many people do you know travel in odd numbers? We hit the cab stop at Paris and persuaded the doorman to find us a limo so we could all travel together. Sweating like pigs, you know it is the first day of Fall, and realizing that this was perhaps not going to happen, we split up into two cabs.


Oh we were LUCKY, in our LUCKY cab.

Dilemma #2: You just KNOW we are going to lose each other, Follow that Cab, just doesn't work in Vegas as it would work, well ANYWHERE else. We had no address, as we had no idea which chapel to go to, where the chapels were, and the traffic was ridiculous because of all the construction for City Centre is underway day in and day out.

With the advice of the cabbie, not ours, we headed down the Las Vegas Blvd towards Freemont.

Dilemma #3: We had to stop, our cabbie was too good and got us past the Stratosphere in no time flat. We stopped at the 7 Eleven, after getting a phone call that a chapel had been found. Our cabbie suggested we wait for our friends in the car, he wasn't going to charge us, but we had passed our friends and had to backtrack, the easiest would be to walk back. So out we got, and Voila, we were in the Ghetto or at least the armpit of the Las Vegas Blvd.

Upon exiting the cab, we were sized up by a grown man on a bike, I don't like to assume anything but working in Gastown keeps your senses sharp, sharp to realize that a couple, carrying shopping bags, in a tourist town, late at night, with no one around, are the perfect victims, for oh you know, MUGGINGS. I have seen it happen, they bike past you, grab your purse or bags, push you down whilest they bike away, and there is NO WAY you are going to run and catch up with them, oh unless your Donovan Bailey.


Classy Vegas Hotel sign, neon lights out, missing letters or they just can't spell.


Umm, YES, I can say YUCKA to this place.


See Vegas can be cheap, $26. bucks a night.

Then we decided to head to the Stratosphere, where cabs are, perhaps our friends, or at least other tourists and people. Lucky for us, we had a couple who was definitely wigging out, stop in front of us. We slowed our pace when we realized that they were asking local looking people for cash, and we were probably going to get some flack if we said NO, you know shopping bags and all, hey once you have crack you can't really go back.

We made it to the hotel, where cabs and people were, and I had a sigh of relief. Even the Man seemed to relax a bit, and we saw our posse across the street. Turns out the chapels they went to were closed.

Basically, it didn't happen and we took pictures in a gazebo, me being the official wedding photographer.


We hopped in a cab and took the back route, where the Gentlemen's Clubs and Sex shops are two blocks long and bigger than Costco, back to our hotel.


We arrived ALIVE!

I just kept thinking if something ever happened to one or both of us, and someone didn't return home, our little monkees would be traumatized forever.