Friday, January 27, 2012

When Not to Be Like Katie

I do certain things incredibly well, and if a person wanted to emulate these things, I'd be all for it.  I'm a superb driver; always use my blinkers!  I chop wood in the back yard like Paul Bunyan (though I'm sure I sound more like Monica Seles).  Also, there is none out there that can unjam a paper jam with the speed, dexterity, and creative language like I do.

But then other times...

Back when I was in Las Vegas, I did something I'm not proud of, something that should in fact stay in Vegas.

It started, like most bad decisions, with wine.  It's not my fault that the restaurant we went to served free house wine with your meal.  I was not expecting that!

Already a little buzzed from more than my fair share of wine, our group headed to Fremont Street to continue our drinking.  The lone gent that forgot to bring cash to the restaurant bought everyone a round to make up for it, so continue I did with a Gin and Tonic.  After that, my best friend came back with a beer for me and Mr. Tolerates Shoes.  After a bit of woefully embarrassing white girl dancing (Mr. Tolerates Shoes and the other 3 gentlemen in our party wisely sat it out, I imagine they discussed things like sports and video games, I'll never know) we all split some cabs back to the strip and ended up at Gilley's because there was no line or cover.  I do not remember how many beers I had there, but I do remember drinking "one more because no one else wants it."  Gilley's is at Treasure Island on the northern end of the strip, I was staying at the very southern end at Mandalay Bay, 2.3 miles between the two.

Thus starts Katie's stupid decision.  In order to sober up a bit, I figured it would help to walk a little ways down the strip before getting a cab from another casino.  I was wearing heels, but I figured a bit of air would do me some good and I was in the mood to walk down the strip to enjoy all the obnoxious lights (which are far less obnoxious and much more magical at my level of intoxication).

Then it became a game.  How much further can I walk?  2.3 miles isn't even that far.  I can save money, sober up and burn the alcohol calories if we just keep walking, but oh, first I want to stop in The Mirage, Excalibur, New York, New York.  Two hours later I got home, ready to saw off my feet in pain.

Don't be like Katie.  Be like Oprah.

Tieks by Gavrieli

There is no shame, NONE, in flats.

But seriously folks, remember to use your blinker.

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