On our third date, we spent the weekend in Las Vegas being VIP guests of the MGM Grand and attending the U2 concert.
Right around the time that my divorce finalized, I met the kid...he was young...much too young for me (actually even younger than I was aware at the time.) He had an adorable baby face and a passion for the industry we were both working in. He was immature, ridiculous and that made him perfectly irresistible.
"We probably need to sober up a little." I stated as we walked back from lunch at Wolfgang Puck's then somewhat new place in the middle of the MGM. We were punch drunk and who wouldn't be? There had been drinks on the plane, a glass of champagne as they ushered us into the the special VIP check in area and gave us all the information on the next two days and where they had made us reservations and informed us what time things were happening.
I sipped my drink and tried to pretend that this was de rigueur...but I my eyes were frantically darting around trying to take mental pictures of everything. Capturing everything since we ascending the escalators and there was a little sign with our names on it being held by uniformed driver, who ushered us into a silver stretch limo and shepherded us into the little lounge where, apparently, important people check in.
"A nap would be good." He confirmed as we stepped back into our suite of a hotel room.
I was just sitting down on the end of the ottoman taking of my shoes when there was a knock at the door. Not expecting anything, I opened it somewhat cautiously...and found myself face to face with an entire rolling table of goodies...a welcome "treat" from the Event Manager who was hosting us for the weekend.
and we were going to ignore it too...stick with the initial plan of a disco nap. Until my eyes closed in on the bottle of French Champagne and I realized not uncorking it immediately would at the very least, be irresponsible.
Which is how I wound up sitting in the middle of a giant chair, shoes off, in the kid's t-shirt and throwing back glass after glass of bubbles and toasting myself for my own good fortune. It was, after all, a few days before what would have been my first wedding anniversary. However, by that point, there was no anniversary to celebrate and no husband to celebrate with. Somewhere between my 2 and 3rd flute, I wondered vaguely what he was doing...and quickly mused that he was probably not in a suite at a hotel in Las Vegas, knocking back a bottle of gifted French bubbles and getting ready to attend the U2 concert as a guest of the venue. Who said I wasn't winning this divorce?
The next morning, I woke up and looked at the table, now mocking me with 2 empty bottles of champagne and the business end of a dozen or so chocolate covered strawberries...
"Water..." I mumbled as I reached for one of the water bottles. Where had the second bottle come from and who decided that was a good idea.
Whistling, the kid stepped out of the giant bathroom and looked at me, "Rise and Shine!" He screamed as he walked towards me. Or maybe he whispered. It sounded very loud, but I was not entirely certain if that was real or an amplification from the empty champagne.
"I...need...food..." I stammered as I looked at him, fresh from the shower, not looking the least bit worse for ware. I pulled the sheets around me and hoped that not ALL of my eyeliner had migrated to the other side of my eyes.
He informed me that he had placed the order for the breakfast we had decided on the night before. I smiled to acknowledge this...knowing full well I had no memory of discussing breakfast, much less debating on an actual order.
"Now get in the shower, you're due in the spa in an hour."
I was?
After my shower, I pulled on a robe that I would have sworn was about 2 inches thick and joined him in the dining area of our room, which of course we had and of course now was featuring the Eggs Benedict I had apparently decided on the night before.
At least it sounded like me...there was even extra hollandaise.
Afterwards, still in the abnormally thick robe, I shuffled down to the spa, where I learned I had a massage and a mani/pedi scheduled. News to me, but never being the type of person who turns down either of these things, I smiled. Again, frantically taking pictures in my mind and alternately acting as if this was just another day.
Over the next 24 hours, I continually added to the list of "things I had never done before." Order a $300 steak as an entree? Check. Have a variety of dresses/shoes and accessory options brought to my room, choose which one I liked and wear it out the door? More fun than I gave it credit for. Be ushered out of a stretch limo, past a line of waiting people and behind the velvet rope of a Vegas club. Done. Sipped drinks with a few Playboy centerfolds and discuss favorite kinds of candy? Complete.
The images of the weekend played through my head on the flight back...I realized no one would believe me and I took no pictures the entire weekend. I had told a total of one person where I was and under the pain of death was she to disclose my whereabouts. It was 2005, I didn't even take my cellphone.
There are honestly only a few pictures I wish existed from that weekend. Mostly, I'm glad it's featured only in my memory. It lives in there as a very happy memory from an otherwise sad time. It served as a new starting point for me and a reminder that good times would still be had.
...and it was one hell of a third date.
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