Our Story #3: Viva Las Vegas

{part 3 in a 7-part series of stories about my journey of love, with Al by my side.}

(I wanted to name this story: "A plaid shirt is not dress up and your Coors Light hat doesn't go with everything" but I decided against it. Read on to find out why.)

After a few months of visiting back and forth between Minnesota and Texas, we decided to go "somewhere." What was the easiest? Las Vegas. It was close enough for him to drive out there, so we only had to buy a ticket for me. Plus, we'd have a car there to drive out and see the Hoover Dam.

Having the car proved to be a good thing when BFF Linus and her boy at the time joined us our last night there. (They, of course, stayed for a few days after we left but we were lucky to have our trips coincide enough to spend some time together!)

My flight got in around 3PM (if I recall) and I was really tired. You see, at this time, I was working at a law firm but I didn't have PTO or any other way to take "vacation time." So if I wanted the money, I had to make up my hours elsewhere in order to get paid for them. No big deal, if I'm taking the afternoon off for a Dr. Appt. or something.

Much more difficult when you take a long weekend to Vegas.

I had spent Monday through Wednesday working 12-hour days. My flight to Vegas was at 7:20 AM and I lived about an hour from the airport, so I was up at 5AM to ensure I was able to get there with no problem.

Therefore, I was very tired when my plane landed in early afternoon. We went up to the room and took a nap. It just seemed like the best way to start a vacation. Frankly, I don't think I would have been much fun if we hadn't napped before starting on the fun stuff.

We did have dinner plans that night, but we had to make a stop at Express first to exchange a shirt I'd bought for Al that was too small. (He says it has to do with his muscular chest and arms, I say I just goofed on the size...) I wouldn't have had to buy him a shirt and tie at all if the boy knew a darn thing about dressing up. When I asked what he brought for our dinner, he showed me a plaid shirt.

It was a fine shirt. For golfing or a BBQ. Or maybe for casual Friday at work (not that he'd know what that was either...he he.) But it wasn't a "dinner in Vegas" shirt. At all.

He had another burgundy dress shirt and matching tie so we decided he'd wear that for that night's dinner and we'd just have to figure something out for our fancier dinner the next night.

(In his defense, he owns a grey Giorgio Armani suit, which he would wear our final night in Vegas. I would find out later that the suit was a size or two too big because he'd lost a lot of weight since he first joined the Army. So, for our 3 nights in Vegas he had a too-big suit, one shirt and tie combination with dress pants, and a plaid shirt.)

Luckily, I had anticipated such a fashion debacle and purchased a shirt in advance.

He might not know this, but I was so broke at the time. I actually exchanged two items I'd bought for myself at Express that happened to still have the tags on them in order to buy the shirt and tie for him. It wasn't just about how he looked. I really wanted him to have it.

When it didn't fit, I was devastated. Let me tell you, this shirt was gorgeous! It was a great green color. I can't even describe the color; not mint or olive, but somewhere in between.

(And the tie was a black with dark grey/silver paisley pattern which looked awesome against the green.) As I silently cursed myself and vocally explained to him that he could definitely NOT wear the plaid shirt to dinner, we decided to go get one in his size since it was right on the strip and we had a couple hours before our late reservation.

So, we confirmed our reservations and headed out to take care of the shirt. I know that Vegas is a great walking city, but on my feet were a great pair of black D'orsay heels. This was bad because I had completely under-estimated how far down the strip Caesars Palace was from The Luxor. We were about half-way there when a perfect blister formed on my foot. I kept going (remember, I'm stubborn AND against looking like a damsel in distress!)

We made it to Express but couldn't find the shirt. They had ONE in the color I wanted. One. Guess what size it was? The same size I'd already purchased that didn't fit. Crap.

I started searching for the next best color choice. I wasn't going to get him something he wouldn't like (pink or an equally un-manly color) and I didn't want to get him another burgundy or blue since he already had them.

A different green? No, he didn't like it.

How about this great silver color? No, looked like a girls shirt.

Perhaps this deep blue? I only need one blue shirt, he quipped.

Rather then spend my energy explaining how this blue shirt and the one he already had were very different colors, I told him to pick out the shirt he saw that caught his eye.

I'll give you one guess what color it was.

Black?

Yep, it was black.

I rolled my eyes and we headed to the register to exchange it.

The tie still looked great with the shirt and if it meant I could get him to wear it again, it wasn't worth an argument. The black shirt it is.

After leaving the store we realized how late it was.

We were going to miss our reservation!

We hurried (which was really bad considering the already formed blister on my foot.) We got there and apologized for our lateness. It was about 12 minutes after our reservation time and we hoped they'd still seat us.

The lady at the hostess stand looked at us and laughed.

"Your reservation isn't until 7:50. It's only 7:00."

Our clocks were still on central time, one hour fast.

She was nice enough to seat us early and our efforts to hurry were not entirely in vain.

After dinner, we headed back to the room. I had planned a little surprise for him. When I found out what hotel we were staying at I called ahead and ordered a "Sensuality Treat Box" to be sent to our room along with a bottle of champagne.

Our goodies:

He was pretty excited and poured us glasses of champagne while I drew a bath.

I'll skip over the remainder of the evening and let your imaginations connect the appropriate (ah, who am I kidding - totally inappropriate) dots. In summation - it was an amazing night.

The next morning, I woke up to various noises in our room. Most of you know that there really is no "sleeping in" for Army boys. In fact, he'd been up since 5AM (it was now 9). He had showered, gone downstairs to get bagels AND he'd made coffee. I ate, had my coffee and got ready for the day.

We spent the day walking the strip (in more comfortable shoes) and looking at various attractions.

Like the lions at MGM

And the roller coaster at New York, New York

And Excaliber

My favorite was Caesars Palace.

It has everything from fancy shopping to gorgeous fountains.

Turns out, Al wanted to head back to shop. He wanted cuff links for his suit. Cuff. Links. I'm not making this up. I wasn't about to argue with that, so we picked him up a pair along the way. And we stopped at one of the fountains for a kiss.

And who could pass up these attractions:

That night, we went to see a show. Criss Angel's "BELIEVE" featuring Cirque du Soleil. Al thought it was a bust. I liked it, but not for $80 per ticket. Criss Angel wasn't overly spectacular and even the Cirque du Soleil stuff was pretty lame. If we ever go back, we'll see a full Cirque show or something like Blue Man Group.

After the show we went to a place called the Cat House for dinner. It's supposed to be a burlesque-style restaurant with scantily-clad women and other risque things like silhouette windows of women getting dressed. It seemed like a fun adventure so we gave it a whirl.

The "entertainment" was boring. There weren't any scantily-clad ladies, dancers or anything. The shadow-puppet window thingies weren't very exhilarating either.

Apparently, the really exciting stuff happens after midnight, but what did we know?

I will say one thing about the place. The food was amazing. Capital AH-mazing. I ordered lamb and it was seriously the best food I've ever put in my mouth. (I can hear Al in the background mumbling something about how the "food better be good for the price" but I don't care because the noises of satisfaction coming from my stomach were far louder then his grumblings.)

Note: the black shirt and tie - what a stud!

I was a little tired and he wanted to go play some cards. I'm not a gambler. At all.

I don't like parting with money. I'd much rather spend $40 on a pair of shoes that I KNOW I'm going to love then spend the evening betting on cards that I'm likely NOT going to win.

Mind you, he's an excellent card player. I think it's mostly because he reads people well and they can't read him at all. He's even talked about trying to play pro circuits for a bit to see how well he'd do, but the Army always quashes any chances of that.

I don't mind that he plays cards. He only plays with his "fun money" - like I budget for drinks with friends, shopping or movies. As long as that's all he does, I don't mind one bit. I like that he has hobbies and I love that he's good at it.

So, I grabbed a book (I know, I'm such an exciting Vegas-goer) and crawled into bed with some wine and he prepared to go down to the casino. After a fews pages he told me he was leaving and bent down to kiss me. I laughed. Hard.

He was still wearing the nice shirt and tie, but had put on a lime green Coors Light hat. I tried to explain that it didn't go with his nice outfit and he proceeded to tell me that a Coors Light hat went with everything. He then went on to say that he needed it to play cards. When I asked him why he wasn't going to dress more casually to match the hat, he told me that he looked really good in his outfit and wanted to keep it on.

Whatever honey. Have fun playing cards.

He did. When he crawled into bed a few hours later, he woke me up. I think he told me something about the men he was playing with complimenting him on his clothes and hat. He told me he won our money for dinner the next night and something about being frisky.

I snorted and went back to sleep.

The next morning, we decided to make our day more educational and went out to the Hoover Dam. Neither of us had ever been so we left early morning and brought sandwiches for a picnic. It was pretty neat to see the whole thing, but it was even neater to hear the story behind it. If you don't know, check this out.

We spent a few hours sunnin' our bodies at the pool (my pale-white Minnesota skin and his farmers/Army tan were both DESPERATELY in need of some UV rays) and then got ready for the evening. This was the night we'd pick up Linus and her boy (we'll call AP) at the airport and head out to a club for a night out. (See, I can be fun too!)

On our way to the airport, we HAD to stop at the Vegas sign and take couple pictures as well as a few in front of the Luxor, where we stayed.

We picked up Linus and AP and brought them to their hotel and a few hours later, we were ready to party! Earlier, we'd looked at a few places and found Lavo had a VIP special that night. It happened to be connected to the hotel they were staying in, so it worked out just great! Linus and I did some dancing and we all did some drinking.

All in all it was a great night.

We met up the next morning for breakfast buffet before I had to be off to the airport.

We had a great time, despite the dent in the pocket book. Al foot the bill for the whole thing, which wasn't cheap. He really wanted it to be a special weekend for us and it was.

It really was.

In case you were wondering, he does wear that plaid shirt once in a while, when I tell him it's appropriate to do so - but he also enjoys dressing up. He won't admit it openly, but when he's in a shirt and tie with a nice pair of slacks and I come around the corner to catch him eyeing himself in the mirror, I know he likes what he sees. I certainly do!

And here is his "proof" that a Coors Light hat DOES go with everything.

{Coming up in part 4 of the series: I visit Texas and hilarity ensues.}