XXX Sin City XXX
XXX Sin City XXX
I gambled with my money and my life!
Salutations! It’s been a while since I’ve chronicled one of my travels and I’ve missed traveling almost as much as I’ve missed writing about it!
Before I get to that fun stuff, I wanted to share the other fun stuff, including my book and recipe recommendations (and don’t fret, the picture of Fizz can be seen at the bottom of this post).
I do read standard literary fiction regularly, but I really just love graphic memoirs, and again, it’s what I have to recommend. I believe I’ve talked about “The Arab of the Future” series based on Riad Sattouf’s upbringing growing up between France and the Middle East, but he has a new spin-off series, this time told from the perspective of his brother, Fadi. The first book in the new series is called “Moi, Fadi, Le Frère Volé” (“Me, Fadi, the Kidnapped Brother”) and is only out in France in French but I knew I had to read it as soon as possible. I could not fight my desire to read it; so excited and curious to hear the brother’s perspective on their upbringing. And, augmenting the perpetual feeling that I live under a rock, I was shocked to discover I could order a book from a huge French retailer directly to the United States. Great success! In my mind, I thought it was illegal or something to get materials like this to locations where they have yet to be distributed but that was misguided, huzzah!! I read the book in Golden Gate Park on a sunny afternoon off of work (since I work for a Jewish organization, I’ve had half of October off: glorious). So, if you’re interested, go read The Arab of the Future series (it’s translated in English) and then once you’re hooked, you can move onto his new series!
In terms of recipes, I have been having all sorts of whacky issues with my stomach over the last year or so, and watched a Netflix documentary a few months ago called “Hack Your Health” which was about the seemingly nascent (yet, ever-evolving) field of gut health. The documentary gave me delightful insight into how the body works, and after some investigation into my insurance coverage, I was able to start talking to a gut health specialist. To begin, she has had me go on a low-FODMAP diet for one month to see what has been irritating my body by process of elimination, and for such a restrictive diet, I have been pleased by what I am allowed to eat! Ultimately, I do feel so much better (I think I am sensitive to onions, which explains why I have often felt sick when I eat) and this experiment has also allowed me to chow on a lot of Japanese food (no complaints there). Poke has become a new staple for me and this New York Times recipe for a poke-adjacent bowl is a good one I can recommend regardless of food restrictions.
Anyway, now onto the fun!
Somehow, at 31 years old, I had yet to go to Las Vegas until a mere three weeks ago. I have driven through Nevada countless times, and virtually worshipped Hunter S. Thompson’s 1971 novel about the dubacherous characters (namely the author, himself) and activity that ensued in the city of sin. But I had yet to step foot in Las Vegas, itself, and much like Detroit, I feel like popular culture paints Sin City’s portrait accurately.
I was in town for a festive occurrence: one of my besties (hi Sarina!!) is getting married, and though she is a self-defined “Anti-Bride”, some of her entourage was able to convince her to do an “anti-bachelorette” trip. This meant that there were no ‘bride’ sashes or tiaras, no all white anything, and certainly, no coordinated outfits. We were there to get away, be together uninterrupted, and as per the bride’s wishes, see a magic show!
We got to the airport early, with even enough time to check out the Rosie the Riveter exhibit at SFO (the nation’s greatest airport, if you didn’t already know). We met some of our fellow ‘bachelorette’ attendees at the gate, one of whom is gluten-free and was picking pork egg rolls out of her Vietnamese noodle salad. Innocently, she offered them to the group and I innocently accepted, not having had breakfast that day and curious to try. They were so tasty and I didn’t give it a second thought. We boarded the plane, I read my book, chatted with the bride-to-be, and only noticed a slight itch developing on my leg underneath my spandex ‘pants’.
We had agreed that our first day in Vegas should be a mellow one, with time to check out the adobe mansion we rented, swim in the saline pool, grocery shop, and eventually, go to a popular Vegas steak house for dinner. This was a protective measure, as well, since the blazing heat demanded an outfit change from the comforts of our Bay Area fog-proof apparel. Unable to stay in the spandex pants anymore, I swapped into shorts, which revealed an enormous rash on my leg where the itching had started. It was uncomfortable but I decided to ignore it—we had errands to run, and I was eager to get outside and explore. Some party-goers were working remotely that day, so those of us who weren’t decided to go grab groceries and alcohol for the posse. Luckily, the brides’ sister—an OBGYN who was not working remotely—was out on the grocery hunt and over the hour or so as the itching worsened, I asked her to have a look. She and her sister were stunned by the gargantuan, red mass on my leg and demanded we go to a pharmacy, which I agreed to. On doctor’s orders, I was told to get anti-itch cream, Zyrtec, and ibuprofen which would theoretically soothe it. After the shopping trip, I revealed what was going on with my leg to my friends who also looked on with horror, as the rash was bulging off my skin, so much so that I was beginning to bruise! My feet, too, were starting to itch, and because no one had any ibuprofen, we went pack to the pharmacy for foot cream and meds.
After a few hours of snacking and swimming, we got dressed up and hit the steak house, which was exactly as you’d imagine: tufted, red leather booths, dark oaky interiors, and a sharply dressed staff. Each table had a famous regular once-upon-a-time who it had since been named for, and our party was next to Marilyn Monroe’s former dining booth. Dutifully, I passed around some glow-in-the-dark penis straws for us gals to sip on drinks with, and we ordered enough red meat to kill Al Gore. I, unfortunately, was unable to eat much of it—my stomach was so upset, and my leg had still yet to heal. I made a run for the bathroom and befriended a Vegas bride donning her wedding gown in the process. The OBGYN prescribed me antibiotics for the rash, which had now spread far down my leg and behind my knee.
Eventually, I laid up on the couch, huddled under a blanket and began to watch a true crime documentary when I noticed a small hive on my opposite leg. It was the birdcall I knew I needed, so I stabbed myself with my epi-pen and was whisked off to the hospital by friends both old and new. In the E.R., the doctor informed me that I was actually in a state of anaphylaxis, and the ‘rash’ on my leg was actually the largest hive he had ever seen in his career. I was administered some IVs and somehow managed to have a blast, with Sarina helping me with my medical forms by cheekily asking, “so, I’m putting myself as your emergency contact. For relationship, should I say ‘friend’ or ‘best friend’?” I loved it!!!
The IVs worked their magic, and by Day 2, we were up and at ‘em, buzzing with excitement to see one of the great magicians: David Copperfield. Since Copperfield has been at the MGM Grand for fifteen straight years (where there is a bronze bust of him outside the theater), the show also served as the perfect excuse to finally check out The Strip! The heat from the asphalt radiated upwards and we were enshrouded by bright lights and cigarette smoke. Showgirls promoted club openings, and screaming passengers whirled around on roller coasters overhead, where big-name casinos also towered. It was showtime.
Our group waited for Copperfield with bated breath as the lights came down and his assistants appeared onstage, doing weird stuff with their hands. They showed us a large and allegedly empty box, using light poles to prove nothing was inside it. Suddenly, the walls of the box came down, and there was a smug Copperfield veering the engine of a Harley Davidson. It was the only trick of the entire night that I was impressed by, but even then it was difficult not to laugh. Copperfield proceeded to speak with slurred speech, and at times he was literally impossible to understand. The group agreed we were feeling gaslit, as Copperfield showed us a trailer for an upcoming televised trick of his where he would make the moon disappear and also asked all of us to send in our email addresses so that we could receive a letter after the show (but sent at 7:12 PM, before the show began) revealing the events of the night. Here is that letter:
Copperfield told us sob stories about his father who had been involved in an alien experiment during World War II and brought out a robot real Alien named Blu, who had time-traveled back to us from his father’s lab. Copperfield slurred incomprehensibly to Blu, even going so far as to forget his lines and read ‘I love you’ off of an alleged ID card that his ‘father’ had given him. What were we watching?! At one point, even, Copperfield appeared, dead-eyed, out of a bomb of confetti in the middle of the audience, but my friend said she had seen him run hunched over to get into position. We could also see that the bulge in his crotch area was freakishly large, and I have no idea what he was packing in there, but the OBGYN mused it might have been a catheter, given his age and slurred speech. More still, certain members of the audience screamed praise for Copperfield, with one man near us standing and flexing his biceps often to vocalize his tacit support. My friend (hi Selena!) was certain these audience members were plants, and after the show, the group more or less confirmed this vis-a-vis our own sleuthing. Leaving the theater, I was devastated, feeling like I’d lost all the wind in my sails. I wasn’t alone. As a group, we all decided we needed to turn the night around, so we purchased tickets another magic show, of sorts: Magic Mike. Ultimately, it cheered us all up.
The next day, we again doubled our show count, seeing an actually spectacular magic show and Cirque du Soleil’s O at the Bellagio. Since we were already in a casino, I gambled for the first time, winning $80 at a slot machine and then a couple hundred more at craps before blowing it all as I tested my luck at more craps and blackjack. The rest of the group more or less did the same, with only one friend (hi Hannah!) coming out ahead.
All in all, the giggling amongst the group was as incessant as the Nevada heat, and I came home riding the high of my great time. I was sleep deprived, sure, but it was so special to be given an excuse to go out of town and have tons of fun—truly, despite the hospitalization and being swindled by a rapist hack ‘magician’—it was the most fun I have ever had!!!! Almost Mazel Tov to Alex and Sarina!
And of course, here’s the promised picture of my girl, Fizz:
