Naturally, I faithfully kept a diary of my trip (don't you carry a "Delta Burke" diary wherever you go with its matching Dixie Carter pen?). So I thought I'd share just a few Vegas diary excerpts to help you capture the flavor of my trip:
Day 1, April 27, 7:34pm:
Dear Diary,
I spent 8 hours in two airplanes, a van, a limousine, 11 very longs lines, and a Quizno's to get here - but I'm here, it's Vegas, baby!
7:52pm:
Dear Diary,
After having realized how obnoxious this city makes people, I have forthwith banned the use of the word "baby" at the end of sentences or phrases. Poor Dave had to learn this the hard way when he got nipple twists twice while crossing the casino floor. Also, the next person who says that horrible canned "What happens in Vegas..." phrase is going to get tasered. Diary, I may be spending some time in a Las Vegas jail.
10:05pm:
Dear Diary,
My hotel room is very nice, and thank the lurdy, very clean. I'm especially excited to find that there's a television in my bathroom mirror! There was a little dark sticker-like box in the middle of the mirror, and like a caveman, I pawed at it for five minutes not knowing what it was. Then we found the remote. Now I want to spend all of my time here watching my crapper vision.
Still no sign of any Elvises yet, but I'll keep looking. Every Vegas-centric movie in history has promised busloads of Elvises, and I'm holding them to it!
Day 2, April 28, 5:30am:
Dear Diary,
Piss it all, I'm still on Michigan time. So I'm up with all the grannies waiting for the buffet line. It's going to be a very long day with Dave off at his business conference. Time to explore the city all by myself!
9:22pm:
Dear Diary,
I hate this city and it's big stinkin' mousetrap assembly. Whoever decided that to get from one hotel to the next you have to take 4 escalators, 2 ramps, a staircase, and then cross a casino floor should be bludgeoned.
But I did take in some great sights, diary. I got to see a replica of Tut's tomb, I got to pet his guard god dog, Anubis, I stood in a replica Eiffel Tower and then some drunk guy tried to maul me while I took a picture of Dave in front of Lenin's headless replica statue. Good fun. Good fun. 
Diary, I still haven't seen a single Elvis - not even a Flying Elvis, like "Honeymoon in Vegas" promised!
Day 4, April 30, 6:42pm:
Dear Diary,
This city has not been treating me well, I'm afraid. My feet are cut open from all the walking, so I've had to mummify my feet with ninja Band-Aids.
I'm sorry to say the food's not very good here either, diary. I've been longing for a cheeseburger that costs less than $30, and have yet to find it, aside from a McDonald's on the strip where I swear I saw bare boobies inside from my view from the road.
My luck as of late has changed though, diary. Dave and I went to the "Star Trek Experience" - which apparently means delicious food with funny names served in a futuristic spaceship restaurant. They serve drinks that smoke, and a Klingon serves your food. Oh, and a Borg walks over to your table and "scans" you (whatever that means)! I even got to try some blue Romulan Ale. Yumm. I was so high on the Flaming Ribs of Targ that I actually let Dave buy a crew uniform shirt. I'll be sorry for that one later.
And after four days of tireless searching, I finally found an Elvis! He's not as lively or musical as I had hoped, but he does vaguely smell of peanut butter and bananas, so close enough!
11:01pm:
Dear Diary,
I have forgiven this wonderful city, after having experienced the greatest evening any city could ever offer - an evening with The Manilow! We saw Barry in concert tonight, and he was positively magical. From our 3rd row aisles seats I was even able to reach out and take his hand and dance with him for a minute. It was heavenly! Diary, I am forever a Fanilow. Every crotch grab and booty shake he did was like a dream come true.
Yes, this is an actual photo from our concert! I'm so lucky!
Tonight marks the end of our trip, and I only wish I could tuck Barry in my suitcase and bring him home with me.
Day 5, May 1, 7:45am:
Dear Diary,
I've been up since 3:00am this morning and am now on a stuffy airplane seated next to a guy who keeps snorting his phlegm and surfing the web for Russian brides. Hellllp!
If anyone finds this diary, and I am missing, please look in the cellar of the passenger seated on my flight in Seat 14A. Thank you.
~~~~~~~~~~
Well, friends, that's all I was able to write. Sadly the rest of the flight(s) were filled with so much turbulence and snow storms (thank you, Colorado!) that we were belted into our ever-lovin' coach class plane seats for the rest of the trip, and my "Delta Burke" diary was out of reach. I think you're able to really get the gist though.
I'll leave you with this one video of Barry Manilow. This actual video was played for us at the concert on a 150-ft. screen! And then Barry walked out in front of it and began performing it live. Then he ended the extended "Mandy" performance doing a duet with his 70s self. Awesome. To the max.
No comments:
Post a Comment