Why has my recent Escapade adventure been reminding me of a similar and yet-so-different trip I took to Vegas in 1999?

I wrote an trip journal about said vacation and I'm about to inflict it on you for reasons that aren't quite clear to me. Maybe I'm just hard up for something to talk about today, who knows?

Stop me if you've heard this one, okay?

* * * *

After arriving, with admirable promptness, at DIA, the requisite 1 hour (Remember those days? Only an hour!) before my own flight to the City of Scantily Clad Babes and Far Too Few Scantily Clad Hunks, I checked in, snagged an aisle seat, and settled down in a comfy chair to write down a few brilliant thoughts on travelling. (I tend to do this in airports. It keeps the nuts at bay and gives me a record of the beginning of each trip.)

Minutes, if not seconds, later, I noticed a fairly well dressed man eyeballing me from beside a nearby store. I did the vacant thing with my eyes, pretending I hadn't really made contact, and looked back down at my journal.

I don't know how long it was before it was borne in upon me that this individual had crept quite close to my comfy chair and was eyeing me with an expression somewhere between lechery (no doubt my ego talking) and, "Too long since my last meal and do you work out regularly?" There was even a touch of, "Do you have room in your bag to take a small package on board the plane with you?" On an every scarier note, it occurred to me that he might want to discuss whether or not I've received Jesus as my personal savior.

My mother won't let me take presents from strangers and being prayed at makes me itch, so I refused to acknowledge this lunatic's existence until he suddenly cleared his throat and asked if I smoked. He must have been desperate – he even accepted one of my lady-thin menthol jobbies.

The entire tedious story is made fractionally less tedious by the news that I saw this same man, fifteen minutes later, accosting yet another person in the same comfy lounge area. But this time, his approach looked more like, "Wanna get a drink and maybe feel each other up?"

Since the new approachee was a man, that could have been my over-active, dirty mind at work.

Be that as it may, I grabbed my little bags and high-tailed it into the terminal where the nuts are at least screened for potential pockets full of C-4 before they're turned loose on a helpless population.

All this, and the Joy of Mallory was still in my future!

I mean, Joy of Menippee, too, yes, but she and I have done the face-to-face thing a time or two without any actual attempts to batter each other senseless with a nearby chair, so I figured we'd be okay. It was, to coin a phrase, Mallory-Happiness that we were meeting in Vegas to establish.

And establish it we did, as soon as I landed in the Capitol of Neon Sin.

Menippee first tried to ditch us in the airport parking lot but we were too smart for her and managed to throw ourselves in the car before she could drive off.

Mallory later told people that we saw David Marciano as we drove to our Casino Home and we did.

She also told people that Menippee tried to run David down with the rental car, which is also true.

What Mallory doesn't realize is that since Menippee's from LA, she's required to try and mow down second and third tier celebrities at every opportunity.

It's a pollution control thing. If they don't keep that kind of thing under control, the glare from capped teeth and LipSlickers lip gloss would cause a spontaneous eruption of everything flammable thing in the city.

My experience with hotels is quite varied. I've stayed in everything from a no-name, grunge-infested dump with Actual Things Growing in the shower all the way to the world-famous (and quite gorgeous) Broadmoor in Colorado Springs, but there's nothing like Vegas.

When booking the room, the reservations clerk insisted that we'd really enjoy a Pyramid Room and the ride sideways on the "inclinator" and she was right. This same inclinator later featured, albeit briefly, in a story that I wrote.

It was a Total Trash Vacation. Any hint of tastefulness in the surroundings would have diminished the experience, so a sideways elevator fit right in.

Still. Taste isn't something you have to consider at the Luxor, no sirree! When I tell you that it was the only casino we found that offered a dead cat slot machine, you'll understand the fine attention to detail they gave the surroundings. (Okay, cats were sacred in Ancient Egypt, and making a dead one a winner in a slot machine was in poor taste, but what the heck? Besides, it didn't pay off, which is probably some kind of karmic retribution or something.)

Vegas is the coolest place on earth. It's not an experience I'd enjoy too often, but every four or five years, I adore the flash and glitter of endless acres of neon lights, the ker-chin of a slot machine paying off (or, not), and the oddly timeless experience of never seeing a clock, a calendar, or the outside sky without making a serious effort so to do.

Anyhow…on to the Vacation Experience.

The next thing that happened was Menippee and Mallory ditching me in the casino. Yep, right after we checked into our room and unpacked. It was unnerving, because I'd been reasonably well behaved up until that point, made sure we'd all gotten keys to the hotel room (instead of taking one myself and forcing them to offer obeisances every time they wanted to visit their clean clothes) and I hadn't sung at all.

In spite of this restraint on my part, they waited until I blinked, then they ran away.

That's about it for several hours. I wandered around, spent some quarters, got my fingers all nasty, filthy dirty, looked for my friends and occasionally sobbed quietly under unused roulette tables.

Eventually it occurred to me to sneak upstairs and make apple-pie beds to pay them back. That plan was scotched by the presence of Menippee in one bed, and Mallory spread out on the other making leisurely calls to some of the 900 numbers she'd seen chalked up on the bathroom wall. I think I minded this most because she refused to put the calls on speakerphone and let me listen in. Apparently Mallory's perversions are private. Hmph.

(Nothing in the above paragraph is true except the part about Menippee being in bed when I got to the room.)

Since it was only 8:30, Mallory and I left Menippee snoozing peacefully and snuck back down to the casino. Specifically, to the bar, where we each drank a beer and made quiet but relentless mockery of the gamblers around us. After cheering on this old couple who looked like they needed a serious win, we watched in awe as some totally enraged guy fed dollar after dollar into the Big Machine and yanked the arm with a fervor appropriate to a gunner attacking an enemy stronghold. We could have made a better job of mocking him if we hadn't been afraid he'd hear us and use one of us to batter the machine into submission.

Giant Jackpot in Vegas Disallowed After Woman's Broken Body Found in Coin Slot!

That was Day One of The Big Summer Adventure.

Day Two!!

Menippee and I played possum until we heard Mallory leave the room. This was, you understand, my way of trying to make her go get some coffee and bring it to me so I could sip it in bed like a Lady of Vacation Leisure. This plan was foiled when Menippee found a note from Mallory, selfishly saying that she was going to go get coffee for herself and bring it back to drink in front of us. I gave in and ordered coffee from room service.

It arrived before Mallory's return (I was in the shower, so Menippee answered the door in her Temptress Turquoise Nightie, but this was the room service guy's tenth delivery that day, so he grabbed his tip and ran like hell).

I drank coffee and was less bitter than I might have beem when Mallory walked in the door holding a giant cup of Mickey D's brew. Besides, I'm a coffee snob and wouldn't drink MD's unless it was the last source of caffeine on the planet. So, there.

Then…the Whirlwind Casino Tour!

Let me take a moment here to apologize profusely to Mallory and Menippee. I swear if I'd known you didn't know drinks were free as long as you were gambling, I would have told you the first night! I'll admit that your insistence on finding a bar the second we entered every building had me stumped.

Our Home – The Luxurious Luxor! We liked this one best. Mostly because if we had to go to the bathroom, we could just go to our room and do so. Other casinos have the Necessary Facilities very well hidden. It's quite the challenge to find them. Also, by the time we left, I could very nearly walk around in this casino without getting lost, which is quite a feat for me.

Mandalay Bay is a sister casino to the Luxor, which means you can go to and from each of them without going outside. MB had little to recommend it beyond the House of Blues (which we skipped, although we visited the gift shop and mocked the coffee mugs) and some listless water here and there, trapped in mock ocean bays fabricated of plastic and bailing wire. This was a particular favorite of someone's (who shall remain nameless since she bribed me) because the waitresses skirts only came halfway down their butts. If they'd offered any men thusly clad, we might never have left the premises, boring décor or no boring décor.

Sirrah! Is't how thou treat'st a lady? I think not! I challenge thee! To the death for a rose from M'lady's hair!

Merlin! Magic! Round Tables!

We didn't really see anything like that at the Excalibur except for the ads they showed on the trolley. It's an interesting thought, though. What with one thing and another, we never quite managed to get around and see the Moat Monster that was billed to appear half-hourly, beginning at sunset, either. We made the usual trek to the gift shop, but I don't remember buying anything.

If I'm not mistaken, and I frequently am, the Bellagio is the one with the scantily clad statues out front, purporting to be Grecian or something. Some people will claim anything is Art just to keep from getting arrested for pornography.

The thing I remember most clearly from the Statue Casino is that I had an overwhelming urge to sneak back in the wee hours of the morning and paint all of the statues' toenails bright red. Someone in our little group suggested that a tasteful nipple ring is always in style, but no one had a chisel on them, so that idea had to be abandoned.

As always, Ballys was very tasteful inside. NOT what I go to a casino for, but there you are. Even in Vegas, there's room for a touch of class.

Caesar's Palace was...Caesar's Palace. A personal favorite, since staring at David's dangly bits with the proper expression of reverence will get you pegged as an intellectual. I remember that the plaque on the base of the statue mentioned, "growing enthusiasm and rising excitement" or something but no matter how long I looked, nothing grew. Or rose. Kind of disappointing, actually.

Bathrooms in Caesar's are particularly hard to find, I remember that. Also we went to explore the shopping area and finally had to ask for directions for how to escape that particular maze.

Caesar's was also memorable because Menippee's True Profession was uncovered by a sympathetic food service employee in the food court. I get the feeling that if Menippee had admitted she was looking for a ahem date, she might have been able to do a little trade to pay for her lunch. That's just a hunch, though.

Seriously. I told her not to wear that blouse. If she got mistaken for a Working Girl, it wasn't my fault.

The Boardwalk Casino - Mallory has discussed this House of Joy since this vacation, but I notice that she failed to mention that I won about fifty bucks in the Elvis slots. Nowhere does Mallory mention the many, many jackpots I won when she discusses this trip. I spent a lot, but by gosh some of those machines paid me a lot, too!

At one point, I was walking around with so many quarters in my front pockets that I looked...well, it was obscene, that's all.

I came home broke, but that's hardly the point.

I have no memorable memories of the other casinos, except for remembering that we danced and sang our way into the MGM. I can't remember which song. It wasn't Yellow Brick Road from The Wizard of Oz, which is unusual. Might have been something by Liza Minelli. Time and alcohol have mercifully blanked my memory.

Menippee eventually decided it was time to get drunk and we all agreed that we'd better do that at the Luxor, it being our considered decision that the odds of winding up rolled and dead drunk in a ditch would be minimized if we never went outside.

So, we hopped it back to the Luxor, I blinked, and Mallory and Menippee left me again.

Hours later, after searching for them (not as much as I pretended) and gambling (more than I admitted to), I gave up and went back to the room. It was after midnight, so I made Menippee and Mallory wake up to chat for a while, in punishment.

Day Three!!

We sobbed! This was our Last Full Day of Flashy Trashy Fun!

A repeat of yesterday's Coffee Selfishness from Mallory so I ordered the superior room service coffee and pointedly did not offer her any when she returned bearing her characteristic Giant Slurp from McCoffeeHell.

On this last day, Mallory had promised, or threatened, never to leave me. She stuck closer than airplane glue (but she smelled better) as we heartlessly abandoned Menippee and traipsed off to find M&M World.

On the way, I also found a Starbucks, so my joy was complete. It was the World's Most Delicious Latte. In fact, the guy in the Harley Davidson store threatened to steal it, until Mallory showed him the tire iron she was carrying under her jacket. Then he forgot about me and bargained desperately with her to trade her chromium steel utility tool for anything in the store. She wouldn't settle for anything less than him stripping off his pants and standing on the sidewalk with mistletoe pinned to his boxer shorts, though, so the discussion came to nothing in the end. I bought a cool shirt and, in spite of Mallory's advice, a very tasteful Harley Davidson Café pin.

Somewhere right about here, two men jumped onto the sidewalk in front of Mallory and me and offered us a helicopter ride and asked if I was Jenny's sister. Being wise to that ploy (we've heard about those impromptu organ removals), we fended them off with a combination of karate and bad breath and made our way on down until M&M World appeared in the distance.

Embarrassingly enough, we got lost in the 15 foot square store on the main level and someone had to take us by the hand and show us the escalator to M&M Joy. Once we arrived, though…whooee!

M&M goodies crammed in every corner! Mallory declared her ambition to fill her life with M&M Joy, right up until the moment she was buried in an M&M coffin. Then they kicked us out, being unwilling to admit that anyone who consumed their chocolatey, crunchy confections would ever reach The Last Bite.

Heart-breakingly enough, we had to skip the rest of our journey down the Strip and were therefore deprived of the sight of the famed Mirage Volcano, as well as the odiferous pleasures of Circus Circus. Ah, well, it leaves something for our next excursion.

Back home, to Luxor Luxury and Menippee. When we returned to the room, Menippee was asleep. Amazing how that keeps happening, isn't it?

Anyhow, she woke up, and we couldn't decide what to do, so we checked through the invitations we'd received since arriving in town. (Oddly enough, party invitations in Vegas seem to be delivered by grubby men standing on street corners and they're all published in the form of brochures.) Tami, Jeni, Susi, no one who was throwing a party was quite my cup of tea, although I believe Menippee saw an invitation that involved complex knots and motion detectors that intrigued her.

If you've heard Menippee's or Mallory's version of events, I deny everything. Except the part where Raymond was the only guy with the nerve to put his picture in a magazine...and someone should have stopped him. God help me, every time I looked at him I saw a beefier version of Duncan MacLeod.

After the first four pictures, I would have been more than willing to pay him money for the privilege of shaving him and cutting his hair. And that's all I'm going to say.

Except that the guy on the knife channel was scarier than I've ever been able to explain. If you've never heard the story, well, you'll just have to use your imagination..

That evening, more gambling but the thrill was gone. We were all tiring of the charming ker-ching of a slot machine not paying off, the stale air in the casinos was tedious, and the grim, determined faces of other gamblers were beginning to frighten us.

The next morning I relented and let Mallory have some of my fabulous Room Service Coffee before she and Menippee wended their way back to the lobby and, presumably, recovered Menippee's car to begin the long journey home.

I don't know, she thought wearily. It was all so long ago, in a country so far away. Who knows what dreams we might have brought forth, had the golden autumn days lingered but a short time longer?*

* * * *

(* That's weird and pretentious, but I can't help it. That's the way the original essay ended.)

There! Not a single thing about Spike BtVS in the whole thing!