I’m back. Thanks to those of you who called, emailed and asked me on the street where I’d gone. Two weeks off was great.
Now, let’s get back to business.
I went to Las Vegas last week. I’d never been. I was attending Catersource’s trade show (giving a speech on social media) and stayed at the Paris Hotel. Let’s start there. It wasn’t until day two that someone explained to me that you were supposed to feel as if you were in Paris while there. Are you kidding me? I’ve been to Paris maybe a hundred times. (Sarah’s dad is French and we were there more often than I’d like to remember.) Never once did I feel like I was in Paris while I was in the hotel. Nope, not once. Driving up, the Eiffel Tower mock up should have been a clue, but I didn’t notice it amidst all the “stuff” around.
I’m an ADD girl. Vegas is like watching Fantasia (the movie, not the singer) while vacuuming, listening to your iPod and having a conversation with two three-year-old toddlers. My head was spinning the whole time. I was exhausted, but what I couldn’t figure out was why whenever I was on the first floor of the hotel I got a boost of adrenalin and seemed to be energized. A co-worker explained to me that they pump oxygen into the lobby to keep you awake so you will keep gambling long after you should be in bed. Oxygen is my new diet coke. I might be seen walking around with an oxygen tank and that ugly nose thing moving forward. It was great. I love oxygen. If a company wanted to start pumping more oxygen in the atmosphere, I would buy the stock.
Cabs in Vegas don’t take credit cards, just cash. I thought that was odd. But then I thought maybe they are afraid the credit cards are maxed out and they won’t get paid unless you give them cash. I didn’t gamble, but I guess if you did gamble all your money away, you would have trouble coming up with cash to get a cab to the airport. I looked on the side of the road on the way to the airport to see if there were people walking their way to their flights but didn’t see anyone. I think all cabs should take credit cards like they do in the fabulous New York City.
I was with people from my office and noticed that Barry Manilow was playing at our hotel. I love Barry Manilow and have seen him in concert more times than I should admit. I sent an email to everyone asking if they wanted me to get tickets. I didn’t hear back from anyone, so I assumed no one got my message which happens at my office. So, I sent another one. Here is a sampling of the replies I received after asking them to please respond one way or another. “Is it time for you to retire?” “Not so much. Not even if you offer me a promotion.” “Sorry, thought it was your sick sense of humor.” And, so it went. I am not a bitter person and really think that even if you haven’t the acquired Barry taste, there is no need to be mean about it, but that’s just me. Needless to say, we didn’t see Barry.
I will never go to Las Vegas again. I don’t get it. I did wonder if astronauts can see it from space, lighting up the earth. I think they probably can. The electricity there could probably serve the entire continent of Africa, but I might be exaggerating. If you love Vegas, as I’m told some do, I am sorry if I offended you.