Thanksgiving was great. A week off work, eating copiously and drinking irresponsibly. And although I’m no closer to understanding what the point of Thanksgiving is, I enjoyed the hell out of it anyway.
My parents were already in town, and to top it off, my twin sister flew in too. We hadn’t seen each other for months and were desperate to catch up – so we did the grown up thing and buggered off to Vegas for 24 hours. The morning after she arrived, we
dumped the kids with Alex and my folks gave Alex and the grandparents quality time with the children, and headed for the bright lights.
From the very start I had a feeling our luck was in. All the signs were there.
Our seats on the plane were overlooking the wing, and there was a guy sitting across from us, crossing himself repeatedly and clutching rosary beads with the other hand. So right from the get-go, we were literally on a wing and a prayer.
The taxi driver who picked us up at the airport spent almost half the journey turned around in his seat, his eyes fixed on us, and not the road. After several near-death experiences, I was feeling invincible.
We checked in to Planet Hollywood and were given our room key: room 2142. I gasped. We were born on the 21st of the month. And there are two of us, so that makes 42.
When we entered the room, we found ourselves in the Junior suite. A film about a guy who has a baby, with the tagline “Nothing is inconceivable”.
And then it dawned on me. Arnie and de Vito also starred in a film called Twins.
It was written in the stars. Our lucky numbers were obviously 2 and 21.
And with those numbers, we were going to completely break Vegas.
And break it we did.
I nearly broke my ankle trying to keep up with my sister, as we walked over 3 miles to catch sunset over the Strip at the top of the Stratosphere. I broke a Benjamin at the roulette table. And then broke the speed record for losing it all.
I also may have broken a display cabinet in the bedroom, which was showcasing some of the movie memorabilia. The hotel hasn’t made contact yet, so let’s keep that between you and me.
24 hours in Vegas is just enough time to leave without completely hating the place. And thankfully my sister was on hand to stop me from losing more money. So I left without hating myself too.
Pictures and commentary from our day trip, below.