Diva Las Vegas
Three summers ago my wife and I embarked on on our first big American road trip, it was our honeymoon and we had booked a flight to Vegas, a rental car and flight home from Orlando four weeks later. As you can imagine, this trip is loaded with stories that I hope to share in future posts but this one is by far my favourite: 'Diva' in Las Vegas.
One of the main reasons we decided to start our trip from Vegas was Celine Dion. Let's be honest, no self respecting gay marriage would be complete without some tribute to Celine (we also went to Dollywood just to keep up the stereotype).
We where married on the tuesday, arrived in vegas on the Thursday and had tickets booked for Celine on the Saturday! The plan was as follows, go back to the room mid-afternoon for a disco-nap, get ready, take a steady walk up the strip through the air conditioned hotels to the Cosmopolitan, have a cocktail, walk the then, short distance, to Cesar's Palace and head to the Colosseum for the show.
As we started getting ready, it became apparent that my wife had forgotten to pack a few essentials needed for my personal beautifying routine:
- Item one was my hair straighteners I have naturally curly hair, the kind that as a child was beautiful ringlets that then inflicts it's revenge for being so damn cute on you as an adult by becoming all kinds of frizzy the minute any form of heat or moisture is anywhere near it!
- Item number two was mascara. My wife had eyelash implants for the wedding, so therefore saw no need to pack it.
- The third item was my armour-in-a-dress, also know as hold-me-in-pants, or as I was later to find out what the Americans call spanks!
After lots of girly tantrums we where no longer running on schedule, so we left the New York, New York. My wife looked very glamorous in her evening gown, I looked like Kate bushes head on Tinky Winky's body! We saw a chemist and popped in for emergency supplies. Result! I found Frizz-ease Syrum, mascara, and a pair of extra small spanks ( I am not an extra small not even a small at the very least a medium but if I'm being honest with myself a large). We bought the lot.
Feeling slightly more 'prepared', we headed into the next hotel and started walking triumphantly through the casinos towards the Cosmopolitan until we found a bathroom in a nearby mall where i promptly locked myself in a cubicle and began unpacking the spanks. I eyed them up like I was chamionship boxer about to face them in the ring. After 15 minutes, pulling, tugging, squeezing and panting I had the little bleeders right where I wanted them: squeezing all my vital organs and cutting off all circulation to my legs. But, I didn't care, I'd won. A quick spritz of the frizz ease and dab of the eye makeup and I was transformed from Tinky Winkie to goddess in purple (even if I couldn't breath or feel my legs below the knee).
Pampered and pouting, albeit squashed so tightly into lycra that a could barely breathe, we carried on our stroll through the casinos and hotels, heading further and further down the strip toowards our destination.
After about an hour, I turned to my wife and said In a rather higher pitched voice (the spanks where really digging in now) we should have hit the cosmopolitan by now? We decided to head outside and check our progress. In almost perfect synchronisation we both looked up in horror at the hotel front of the New York New York.
How could this have happened? We must have taken a wrong turn somewhere. We now had 40 minutes to get the the Cosmopolitan, order a cocktail and drink it before we joined in with renditions of 'My Heart Will Go On'. We were gunna have to really march. There was no time for air conditioned hotels now, we had to take the direct route.
Now let me set the scene: it's Vegas, it's August, we're in full evening entire, donned in frizz ease wrapped so tightly in black spandex that I was sure my stomach was resting somewhere between my heart and lungs. But my god we ran. All the way down that bloody strip!
A quick stop-off for a cocktail and the obligatory cosmo in Cosmo photo, we arrived at Caesars Palace at 7:23pm. Out of breath. Red faced. Blistered feet. My legs had turned blue and my hair was beginning to resemble a scene from the Lion King!
Never-the-less, we followed the signs for the Coliseum, through the casino, past the posh restaurants, up the steps ... I saw it first. A small, inoffensive white sign:
"On the recommendation of her doctors, tonights performance from Celine Dion has been cancelled."
I couldn't speak. I just pointed at it and burst out laughing. My wife was mute. The disbelief on her face was obvious. Now this is the gold moment In a way only my wife can, she marched herself up to the ticket desk and Declared:
"it can't be cancelled, doesn't she know it's my honeymoon? I've come all the way from England to see her!"
In response, the clerk simply looked at my wife in disbelief and began to start explaining something about a refund but it was too late. She had already stormed half way across the room, pulled out a $50 bill and shoved it into a machine - something neither of us had dared to do with our hard earned cash up to this moment. And it didn't stop there. She then proceeded to book us a table in the posh restaurant we'd passed in a hurry 20 minutes before before taking a depth breath, smiling at me and exclaiming, "That's better!"
Now, I have known my wife 16 years and I can honestly say that these 30 minutes or so is the one and only time I have ever know her act like a complete Diva and boy, did she own it!
So we never did get to see Celine but that night was one of my favourite nights, we had such a laugh, the best margarita I have ever had in the cosmopolitan hotel, a fantastic meal, the best company. It just shows you, sometimes even the best-laid plans can go all wrong, but if you're with the right person, you can turn it right around!
As fantastic as the night was, however, nothing in my entire life will EVER beat the feeling of pure relief when I got back to the hotel and untrussed myself from those extra small spanks.
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