Karma

Our last day in Vegas and we woke up to a very light rain. Not sure what came over him, but my lovely husband blurted out "That's just great, why do they have to end their drought during our holiday"? As soon as Tom said it he felt horrible. Truth is Vegas was getting to us.

Even though we had a crazy weekend there, something about Vegas just didn't feel right. It was one of those holidays when you try to pretend that everything isn't over the top, that children aren't starving in the Sudan while you're stuffing your face at the all you can eat buffet, that people willingly spend a couple of c-notes to hear Celine Dion sing. No matter how you spin it, there is something weird about Vegas.

Our last night there turned into a cross between Hangover and Date Night. A few highlights:

The evening started out okay, just the two of us hanging out and chillin.

Loved the desert sky after the summer storm.

Enjoyed the bright lights of the strip.

Scored the best table in town for dinner.

Shortly after the show started, something went terribly wrong. Just as the fountain was at it's peak (maybe as tall as a three story building) a freak gust of wind blew the mountain of water directly onto the patio, and our heads, and clothes, filling our dinner plates. We (and my brand new dress) were seriously drenched, I'm not sure I've ever been that wet in my life, even while taking a bath. The Maitre De was horrified. He apologized profusely, and insisted this had never, ever happened before. Tom and I had a good laugh, after all - karma is a bitch.