Being Lame in Vegas
Where my biggest sin was eating salad
I had to cancel a number of friend dates recently because I was in Vegas. People assumed I’d partied too hard during my trip. But I didn’t drink alcohol or take edibles. I didn’t stay out late. I didn’t gamble. I didn’t go to shows. I didn’t walk The Strip. I didn’t even go to the pool. I wasn’t there to have “fun.” I just wanted to lounge in a fancy hotel suite for a day. During the summer, prices drop because of the extreme heat. And Abe wanted to see the NBA Summer League there. So off we went, for less than 24 hours.
The real reason I couldn’t keep my post-Vegas appointments: we ate out for all our meals, and I was in pain from the gluten cross contamination. Lame.
I’ve had celiac for a few years now and my sensitivity hasn’t gotten better; this has turned into a common risk of traveling for me and why I don’t like to be away from home for long. I know I could have prepped better; I could have tried to find a grocery store, I could’ve asked for a refrigerator, I could’ve made a bigger stink with the servers to let the kitchen know about my allergy, I could’ve packed more gluten-free food in my suitcase, I could’ve rinsed the cut fruit salad from Bouchon in my hotel bathroom sink before eating it. But I didn’t want to be so rigid for this short trip. I already wasn’t doing all the Vegas-y stuff; I wanted to at least enjoy some overpriced meals and eat more than protein bars and jerky. I do regret it now, but I also know I was sort of in an environment that was out of my control.
I spent most of the day in said fancy suite, and then walked around the mall/casino/lobbies that connected the Palazzo to the Venetian hotels. I had been slightly worried that the A/C might break because there had been a heat warning — like summers in NYC, where one random subway car’s cooling unit broke. But every single place we entered operated as if 110 degree weather was perfectly normal. It was like indoors, we were on another planet. I even wore a sweatshirt.
I may not love Vegas, but I’ll give it this: it’s memorable. I vividly remember all my previous visits: A wedding. A birthday. An anniversary party. Canvassing for Obama. A lesbian convention. As I walked around the casino at 8am and noticed the slot gamblers pounding Red Bull and vodka between pulls, I caught a glimpse of my former self. The one in my 20’s who also chain smoked and desperately wanted a dopamine hit first thing in the morning. The one who danced at clubs til 2am and dressed up in heels for a multi-course meal (chef’s choice). The one so very far from me today but still feels familiar. I wonder who I’ll be in another few decades, how much my body and lifestyle will change again. How often I’ll even be back to this city.
Well, it’ll be soon, because upon return I got an invite to my cousin’s wedding and found out my friends are moving there. I know traveling has its risks, but I guess that’s just Vegas, baby. Or maybe it’s just life.
