(Day 1) The Desert Oasis

Vegas, baby. I was supposed to head to Tokyo again in June to celebrate Janelle’s birthday in an all-out, city-wide rager. However, due to her early expatriation, she was now in Canada and we were plan-less. We tossed around ideas about Seattle or Whistler for a weekend, but one night while we were chatting on the phone, we happened to book a weekend in Las Vegas. And so, we went.

Janelle and I had actually visited Vegas together some 20-ish years ago, but the only thing she remembers is finding a stuffed animal underneath our van and all I mostly recall is eating lots of yogurt at the Circus Circus buffet and being trapped inside the stairwell of a parkade. Oh, and also standing outside a gambling area with my sister while my parents played slots. Something tells me it will be a lot different this time around.

My aunts agreed to take me and Janelle to the airport, stopping at Red Robin for some pre-Vegas-party eats.



The Bellingham airport is SMALLLL – you end up waiting for your plane inside of a little double-wide mobile. We had to put up with a (what I assume is usual) rowdy group of 30s/40s women heading off on a girls weekend – and started getting their drank on a lil early. They also appeared to think they were some sexy cougars or something. Barf in my mouth.


So fresh-faced!



The flight wasn’t super long and the gang on the plane certainly was aware we were headed to Vegas. The bathrooms were among the dirtiest ever for an aircraft and there were a group of jocks shouting “GO CANUCKS GO” prior to landing. It was like a flying party bus.



Needless to say, it was effing hot the second we stepped out of the airport. We boarded the shuttle and made our way down to the strip and our hotel, the Mandarin Oriental. Tucked behind a small cluster of shops, the entrance to the Mandarin appeared to be little more than an elegantly-appointed empty room. Oh what? There is a sky lobby on the 22nd floor? And velvet benches in the elevator to rest our weary bones? Ok. Welcome to Vegas!



It was nearing six in the evening, so I expected no problem in checking in…but the guy said the manager was still inspecting our room (to make sure it was perfect, naturally), and said we had to wait. Of course, I immediately got a tiny little bit huffy since I was hot and tired so he quickly soothed our pain away by offering us free drinks in the bar while we wait. YAY! Two $20 glasses of frou-frou champagne drinks and $12 bite-sized hamburger sliders later, and we were enjoying the good life on top of the Vegas strip. Why did it take me so long to come here? Geeze. Been around the world and didn’t realize what was in my backyard. Sad.











Our front desk guy came into the bar to tell us our room was ready and at our leisure, we headed down to the 10th floor to check out our digs. Our bags had been sent ahead already, of course. Why does this feel like ridiculous luxury? Our room did not fail to impress. Upon first entry, the curtains opened, the TV and lights turned on, and oriental music started playing. Is this normal?





For me, the highlight of the room was the bathroom – marble tile, dual sinks, soaker tub, TV in the mirror, frosted glass walls – SICK!! A nice bathroom wins my heart every time.



And then there was my boudoir…



And the view…



After settling in quite comfortably, we headed next door to the Monte Carlo in search of dinner. We have a long night ahead of us.





We wandered from the Monte Carlo (where we stopped an Asian guy in a Canucks jersey to find out the outcome of the game. Go Canucks!) over to Aria and then on to City Centre and Crystals mall. Everywhere we went, it was like we were on uppers. We never planned on leaving Vegas.





After gawking at all the gorgeous merchandise at Crystals, we trudged back to our hotel to do some gawking of another kind. There was a Bugatti just sitting outside the Mandarin. Just. Sitting. There.



No big deal. We starting the primping process for our first night out at the clubs. Tonight was the clubs at the Palms, which was ridiculously out of the way and going to cost us an arm and leg in taxi fare. Lame. At least the clubbing part was free since I got us on the guest list. Thank you, Chris Hornak!



We hit up Moon, the Playboy Club, and Rain – each full of chauchy wannabe Italian types. LOL! At least it would be lol if it wasn’t so gross. The dance floors were packed, each with guys drunker than the last. The highlight of the night for me was when they shot off the giant fireball at Rain. Heading to bed tonight brought new meaning to the term fall asleep. It’s only day one…Vegas is going to chew me up and spit me out. I’m looking forward to it.

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Hooker Harvey's

Sunday morning in my brain always equals a brunch buffet. And so I Googled an all-you-can-eat spectacular in Toronto and it directed me to the feast in the heart of the Distillery district at The Boiler House. Thankfully, my hosts were game to jam down some eats and wander around the old distillery on a crisp (thank you Lord!) morning, my last in Toronto.







A lot of pretentious diners, as well as wait staff, were present. We must have been unsightly because they stuck us in a completely different restaurant altogether, which was attached to The Boiler House at the rear. We sat in the rear. Nice.




This sign was near the bathrooms. I should have sounded my horn.















After I had finally distilled enough of my breakfast from my gut (wha?), we headed to this ghetto little beach out in an industrial area.





Koo. After the beach, we headed back into downtown (SPADINA. SPADINA STATION.) but not before driving past the ‘Hooker Harvey’s’. We drove especially out of the way, just so I could see it. But (sadly?) there were no hookers present.



A friend of Shannon’s said that she thought I would like Kensington, so we elected to see that next. They’d never been either, so in our innocence, we headed into this bohemian village. I found it just as disconcerting as Camden Market in London. Do I seem I’d like that, really? It seemed like all a lot of the shop vendors were on drugs.






I do, however, love street art.









We managed to escape Kensington not high, and not a moment too soon. Shannon loudly proclaimed she never wishes to return, and…yeah. Onwards.

We headed down Queen’s Street to see the Much Music building, the epicenter of my teenage ambitions. I was wholly disappointed. The building was boring, nothing was happening, and the Much sign had long since been taken down. Where do I sign up to dance on Electric Circus?



Last stop on this crunk adventure was the CN Tower. I needed some “Oops I Crapped My Pants” when it came to the glass floor though. Shizz!













With my legs now seizing-up from days of relentless walking, we rode the trolley car back to the carpark, sipping on Chilled Glace all the way. UGH. LOVE CHILLED GLACE.

Dinner was at this cute little Italian place called Paisano’s and then we drank ourselves silly before heading to bed…only to get up at like, 5:30 AM to head over to the airport. I was still…maybe two sheets…but the long flight home was sobering enough. I’ll be heading back there soon enough…providing the city will still have me!

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