Yeah, I Wanna Dance With Somebody!

Wow! It's like I took a vacation....ON MY VACATION. And ya know? I felt sorta guilty! Sad, isn't it? Actually, the REAL reason I haven't even logged on to the internet since, oh, Tuesday, is that our hotel decided that free wireless is like, SO 2006. $11 for internet access? NO FREAKIN' WAY. And not really because $11 is too expensive, it's the principle, you know? Like how I only went to the gym once during the trip because it ALSO wasn't complimentary?! I was let in the one time by an old guy because I am the QUEEN of the "Help Me, I Don't Know What I'm Doing" look that we women are known for.

Anyway. Since there are lots of fun stories to tell about our fun little Vegas trip, I think I'll break it up into nice little bite sized chunks.

So where was I? Oh yes, 80's Night. Hehehe.

Abby (one of my best friends / my husband's business partner's wife) and I woke up at the early hour of um, 10, and got ready to hit the nearest outlet to find some fun, funky, yet totally re-wearable 80's gear. After we were officially ripped off by a cabbie (oh I LOVE when people take advantage of me!) we began our search. I was a little worried about trying to find something I wouldn't feel totally foolish in, AND something that I could wear again. And really, finding anything 80's at all. Then we walked into "Wet Seal". They had just a few...thousand 80's items for the taking. Large belts, large plastic jewelry that Wilma Flintstone would covet, and very teeny tiny leggings. Both Abby and I found some great outfits - leggings, long dresses, and flat shoes. On the way home we decided we'd beat The System and take the trolley home. Cheaper, and went straight to our hotel! Bonus!

Except that the 8 minute drive down the street turned into an hour long tour of every neighboring hotel and store along the way. OVER AN HOUR. We could have walked the 8 miles and got back in time to watch Oprah before that trolley meandered into our casino.

When we finally got back we hurried to get dressed in our fancy new clothes. We had to be ready in time to take the chartered bus to....dun dun dun....The Palms' club, Rain. The company had rented out the club for the entire night, and along the way we were told by several people that supposedly this Rain club is super hard to get into, and has some ridiculous cover charge. I'm definitely not a "clubber", but I was intrigued. By the time we'd finally arrived at The Palms, we were all buzzing with excitement. And I was already limping from the newly formed blisters on my heels, thanks to my new white shiny flats I'd purchased. We went inside and were just FEET away from the entrance before a very large black dude in a fancy suit, hands crossed, asked us for our ID's.

Uh....................ID's?

Um.................(cough cough) Right. Club. Alcohol. ID.

What if we promised we wouldn't be drinking?! At all?!

Yeah, we had to get BACK on the bus, endure a 15 minute Rolling Stones memory trip from the very energetic driver, run through the casino (remember the blisters?!) up the elevator, to our rooms, grab our ID's, back through the casino, and onto the bus. Driven by the nicest and biggest Rolling Stones fan I've ever met.

Did I mention he liked the Rolling Stones?

We arrived just in time to get a good look at all the fancy food everyone who'd thought to bring their ID's had enjoyed, just as they whisked it away. Bye bye dinner! It smelled great!

Anyway, the club itself was pretty sweet. They had a huge wall on one side with cascading water, several rooms up stairs with fancy couches, candles, and pretty red lights (pretty...I know what they're for. I'm not THAT out of touch!). In the middle of the room was a big raised platform. It looked like a boxing ring. Of course it was a dance floor, and was equipped with one of those smoke-makers and also occasionally blew fire. And yes, we danced our little 80's hearts out (blisters?!).

Did ya hear that Paris Hilton? 80's music! On Rain's dance floor!

And when I finally crashed onto our bed that night and slowly pulled off my cute but oh-so-cruel flats, I discovered that not only did I have blisters, but my BLISTERS had blisters. And their blisters had baby blisters, and those baby blisters were 9 months pregnant. With twin blisters.

But OH was it worth it!

(Pictures to follow...probably tomorrow. When I'm not so dead tired.)

(Not pictures of my blisters though. No need to frighten anyone....)