Your Las Vegas

Friday night I was persuaded by my friend Grace to go see The Hangover, that new film set in Las Vegas about four guys who have a bachelor party so wild that they wake up the next morning with no memory of it. While I thought the movie itself was funny, I have a feeling my enjoyment of it was a little hampered by the lack of distance between the Friday night screening and the previous weekend's foray into the actual Las Vegas.

The Hangover is set in the 'nicer' part of Vegas, over in the Bellagio/Cesar's Palace neighborhood. We, on the other hand, were staying at the Golden Nugget, right on Glitter Gulch. Old town Vegas isn't like most old town centers with pedestrian thoroughfares. Those places usually have attractive historical facades, trees, places to sit and good-looking tourists.

Glitter Gulch, as it's name might suggest, was a place full of tragedy. Not the sudden, unexpected tragety, but the long-living, chain-smoking, crack-addled kind of tragedy that is really so much more depressing. This was a place shouded in nicotine and despair.

There were a few moments I have to preserve:

1. We are at the check-in counter. The girl behind the desk informs us that the pool has been closed. The following exchange takes place between her and my mother: "Is there another pool in the area? Do you have some kind of agreement with another hotel?" "No." "Well, I guess I might as well give my children cigarettes." We are mortified.

2. One look at the lobby, and I understand why Las Vegas is so popular with expatriates from the Emerates. They also would know not to go somewhere called Glitter Gulch.

3. We kept seeing members of the Griswald Family Reunion wandering around. We know they are part of the Griswald Family Reunion because they have "Griswald Family Reunion" T-shirts with their names (Chet, Bud, etc.) emblazoned on the back. I kept seeing members of the Griswald party and thinking about the prospective benefits of eugenic councelling. Yes, I know, that makes me a terrible person.

4. My sister, brother and myself were all waiting in the gift shop for mom and dad to join us. I get a text from Shaun that says 'It's 7:30. Are you being a slut yet?' I text him back: 'I'm with my brother and sister in the gift shop wating for our parents to come down. What do you think?'

5. My sister doesn't have her ID. There goes our plans to see the Chippendales dancers.

6. We do actually see some Chippendales dancers posing for pictures. I am still a little mortified that I retold Margaret Cho's joke about the Chippendales dancers to my dad and my brother. ("It doesn't work for women.")

7. My sister and I did end up having some fun time bonding and comparing guys as we wondered around. I think she wishes I were more adventurous. I know she's eighteen, but I still refuse to buy her cigarettes.

I think my parents do no research ever before they go on trips. It reminds me of the time my dad wanted to take us to Seattle for Christmas, not because we know anybody there but because it seemed "like a cool place." A month after settling on those plans, he realized that Seattle in winter was a bad idea for everyone (though I probably would have been fine, sicne I live cold weather).

With Vegas, mom and dad came away from the trip grossed out and depressed. I wanted to scream at them "What did you expect? It's called Glitter Fucking Gulch!" I have managed not to yet. I think if I ever do vocalize my thoughts on the subject I'll include something along the lines of: "The only reason any sane person would go to Glitter Gulch is for some sick kind of anthropology study."

I know both of my parents are smart people, and it makes it that much more frustrating to see their questionable judgement in action. If I learned one thing from this trip, it's the same I learn from all the others: This is my last family vacation. At least for a while. Till then, I will revisit The Hangover and probably enjoy it a lot more once the taste of real-live flesh-and-blood Las Vegas is finally washed all the way out.