How I spent six days in Las Vegas
How I spent six days in Las Vegas
Casinos and cocktails, a corpse and $40 coffee.
LAS VEGAS — The last thing I needed on my 3 1/2-hour flight from Chicago to Las Vegas was to be stuck next to a babbling Bo.
It was 8 a.m. I was relegated to a middle seat. And I was operating on little sleep after a major miscommunication with my significant other.
And here came Bo. He sat in the window seat, wearing a white face covering while reading “Commander in Cheat” by Rick Reilly when I sat. Bo’s wife, Nancy, opted for the aisle. They’ve been married for 48 years, which explained their seat selections. Five minutes after I sandwiched between them, I noticed Bo’s watch. The colors popped. The same purple and gold pattern was inked on his forearm. I couldn’t believe my eyes.
Bo, a 71-year-old Massachusetts resident, identified as a die-hard Minnesota Vikings fan. I shared with him that I’m also a longtime Vikings fan. Bo looked at me strangely for a second, removed his face covering and never put it back on. He shook my hand and proceeded to talk with me the entire flight. We showed each other pictures and reminisced on old Vikings players and coaches, triumphs and heartbreaks. Before exiting the plane, we exchanged numbers.
I knew then that my six-day trip to Las Vegas last week would be a doozy.
Before making it out of Sin City, I visited the world famous Hoover Dam, felt what it’s like to lose $1,000 in seconds on a bet, scarfed down all I could eat at a world-class buffet, stumbled across a dead body and shamelessly did the most “dad” thing ever.
Most importantly, my habits traveled.
Despite sharing six days of scorching sun with colleagues, tourists, vacationers and partygoers, I never strayed from my principles. I remained committed to my operating procedure.
In a city filled with temptation, I didn’t fall for Las Vegas’ many trappings. My money, for the most part, stayed with me. I’ve grown too much to let this city’s bright lights get the best of me.
My first time visiting Las Vegas was when I was around 11. We dropped in on my Uncle Marvin, who used to live here and work as a casino dealer.
For much of the past two decades, I’ve traveled to the city each summer for work. In my younger days, I was enamored with the city’s gambling and nightlife culture. Now, I couldn’t care less. And that was reflected in my weeklong trip.
Despite traveling on my company’s dime, my frugality limited my total expenses to approximately $1,050. That includes my rental car, parking, food and drink. Of that, I anticipate paying only $145 out of pocket after submitting qualified reimbursements.
I’d put my expense report against any of my more than 50 colleagues who also were in attendance. I have no doubt mine would rank among the lowest.
Like it or not, Las Vegas isn’t cheap, especially not when you’re staying on The Strip. But once again, my spending showed that a little prudence can go a long way. I thoroughly enjoyed my week here without being reckless.
A quick bite upon landing on the morning of July 10, however, set the tone.
I grabbed lunch at Darla’s Southern Cajun Bistro, a Black-owned restaurant on the city’s west side. Catfish fingers and fries cost $25.05.
Work occupied me for the rest of my first day, and an early morning the following day forced me to bed at a reasonable hour. Staff meetings dominated the next day, from 9-4. But a reception, with dinner and an open bar was provided from 6-8. I had a few old fashioneds, and because the poor bartender was working our group alone I opened my wallet to tip the man $10.
Work meetings again were held Friday from 9-4. Friday night, however, was for me. I chose self-care. I opted for peace and quiet. I took a walk through the Bellagio hotel to take in the sights. I stopped by a roulette table and got a quick reminder of why I don’t gamble.
I didn’t play. I pretended to play. In my head, I put $1,000 on black. Red 16 hit. I walked away in disgust as if I had lost real money.
Meanwhile, as others organized group dinners and drinks, I went to Vons, a local grocer. It might be the most “dad” move I’ve ever pulled, and my daughter Parker wasn’t even with me.
I needed water and snacks, and I wasn’t going to pay tourist-trap prices. I also snagged much cheaper liquor than I would have paid on The Strip or at the hotel.
I paid $64.64 for bottled water, prepackaged strawberries and watermelon, a case of IPAs, two pre-made margarita drinks and bath salts.
That’s right, bath salts.
The night was mine. The world was my oyster. Yet I happily chose to soak my bones in a rejuvenating bath. Cost: $9.74. Value: Priceless.
Well, deduct whatever psychological damage might have been inflicted by the dead body I spotted in a parking lot while driving. Other than that, Friday was fantastic!
My Saturday started with my lady friend Triest’s arrival. I treated her to the Wicked Spoon buffet inside The Cosmopolitan. It cost $54 per person. After a 20% tip, my bill was $138.65. But the experience was worth it.
We attended Missy’s Elliott’s concert Saturday night, and I had to work Sunday. That was the day a colleague informed me that room service coffee at their hotel cost $40.
Suddenly, I didn’t feel so bad about the buffet.
On Monday, my final full day, I stepped away from The Strip. I drove over to the Hoover Dam and was taken aback by its beauty. I had never been, and I was pleased that patrons can drive and walk through the historic site free of charge.
It was by far the best money move I’ve ever made in this place.
