WanderTales: Sin City

Whew. I'd never experienced heat that clings to my body so uninvited without making me sweat, until my feet touched Las Vegas soil. It was so thick of a force, like walking behind a permanent exhaust pipe. In other business, jackpots were screeching, taxis were zooming, and sin was raging! We made it to Vegas! 

The best feeling I can remember was reuniting with my soul mates. Cierra was as short and nasty nice as ever. Kourtney even louder and richer skinned than I remember. Wykeisha was all full of energy and in super planner mode. With Leigh-Anna being as slow and prissy as can be and Katricia so chill with skin as radiant as the sun, everything was in place. We were all in such different places in our lives, but the Universe provided us with a temporary unified platform for the week. I'm sure McCarran felt the genuineness in our embraces. We exchanged hugs, kisses, and squeals as young girls do, then gathered our luggage to take on the city. Once we'd made it to Palms Place, we sat down to a subpar lunch while waiting on our room to be ready. Although the food was bland and the service was terrible, our conversation overshadowed the experience. The girls and I brought up old classmates and how everyone was now either married, parents, or both. Enjoying single unattached life in Vegas was exactly where we wanted to be.

My mouth dropped as the door swung open to our two bedroom corner chunk of temporary living abode at Palms Place. There were multiple kitchens, 3 bathrooms, a million nooks and places to sleep, and plenty of spaces to store our big girl drinks. We stored our bags, put our glasses in the air, and toasted to this wonderful life, as we took in the amazing breathtaking strip view.

So I'm an open minded person and I enjoy being spoiled, but when it comes to randoms putting their hands on me, my eyebrow automatically rises. I'd never been to the spa, but the girls and I had set up an appointment to have full body massages, complete with hot stones and a foot bath. I thought to myself upon entering Sam's spa, "Hey, if we're going to do this thing, may as well do it, dammit." After filling out paperwork, half of us were escorted into this dimly lit parlor room. It smelled of jasmine and lavender, and the music was just low enough to relax you, but audible enough to take in without strain. I lay there trying to clear my head, while managing to get past the fact that a stranger would be bare hand against my skin. I took a deep breath and went into a close trance. I could hear my personal masseuse rub the hot stones against one another. I clenched the muscles in my bare back a bit and took in a sharp deep breath, because I knew what was coming. The first contact was like a perfect balance of hot pain and soothing warm tension. I released the bound air in my lungs and began to really relax. The goose bumps on my skin became a physical example of how life at this moment was nothing short of amazing. There to instantly snatch me out of my Zen moment was the realization that we were stranded! There we were standing in the middle of heat stroke, Nevada, with no cab in sight, easily fifteen miles away from anything that looked even remotely familiar. This was no New York, where cabs raced past 24 hours a day. We called and called every car service from high and low, only to find out that we'd be waiting an hour before we'd be scooped. The agony! I needed a drink, and fast! 

I came to find out pretty quickly that ladies have it easy when it comes to being guest listed in Vegas. The hardest part was actually deciding which venue to choose. The girls and I put on our infamous “I love this, but it's not my favorite, so I'll wear it the first night" sexy dress. You know, the one that says, "I want to do it it to em, but not kill em just yet". Yeah that one! Lastly, before walking out the door, I remember putting on my deep vampy Mac Cyber lipstick to make up for whatever my dress lacked. I was ready to get the drinks flowing and my body moving just as freely. I felt like dancing unapologetically all night! As the driver dropped us at the Cromwell, we were amped for Drais Nightclub. Come to find out, it was a freaking pool party. So here we are dressed to impress in heels that are heavens high, trying our damnedest not slip on chlorine water.  I mean this was bad, like a bootleg version of Swan Lake. Needless to say, we ditched as quickly and discreetly as possible, after getting in a mini photo session of course. Luckily the club exit led directly back into The Cromwell's casino floor. It was time for some Black Jack! I sat at the bar and ordered a White Russian while playing the computer at a few rounds, just to try my hand. Once I felt ready, I made my way over to the big girl table. With my long bare legs crossed, I cashed in for some chips, ordered a top shelf, Grand Mariner, Perfect Margarita with a sugar rim & placed my first ever bet. If I put myself in an onlookers' point of view, I would say this was one hell of a sexy sight. Bet after bet, my purple kisses stayed wrapped tightly around my perfectly made, sweet and sour, blood warming, aromatic margarita poison, as my pile of chips increasingly rose. Did I mention how perfect this drink was? I digress, but this place, this drink, and this feeling were exactly what I'd been missing. 

I woke up swinging around a stripper pole! YES, A STRIPPER POLE! I mean really, what's better than bacon and lap dances for breakfast? My sister enrolled us in Sexy Sapphire University, a pole fitness class, for the day. Our ex stripper, turned business owner, slash wife and mother, was a pro at breaking the ice. She pranced around the room in her sky high heels and itty bitty barely there shorts, making sure to make physical contact with each of us. Drew was a hot mama, literally! There was no ice left to break at this point, because clearly she'd melted it all. "I see you winding and grinding up on that pole", blared from the sound system in Akon's voice. It was on then. The view in the wall to wall mirror room was like a zoo full of Xanax'd wild animals! We got loose, popping and dropping, slinking and sliding, and winding and grinding of course. Drew taught us things we'd never seen before, moves we'd seen at the strip club, and tricks we'd never want our sweet mothers to see! After a couple of tiring hours of ground shaking dance, fitness, and pole routines, I walked away from this hidden treasure, women anew.

I momentarily had a flash back to the twenties. I envisioned myself hand in hand with Frank and arms locked with Marilyn as I strode through Old Vegas. The Golden Nugget was the central standard for all things Old Vegas. Although it was mid day and scorching, I could still feel the vintage essence. Vegas showgirls here and there on every corner, zip lines and flamboyant lights hung over head, and vendors sold their super sized adult slushies to random patrons. We didn't spend much time there, but I made it a point to simply take in the fact that the greats walked down these very streets. After a peek in a few gift shops, we headed back to 2014.

By this time, it was night two, so of course we had to take it up a notch. The girls and I all brought white dresses. I'm pretty sure girls love themes more than anything, and guys love nothing more than white hot dresses atop brown sugary skin. Now I could be wrong, but the glances we got as 7 slinky garments traveled through our lobby, said otherwise. Our individual personalities were displayed on our bodies as we sat down in the intimately dim lit N9NE restaurant for ladies night. I ordered a tender braised flank stank, shallot, and spinach tapas. It was like cuisine heaven, an ultimate flavor explosion inside my mouth. As we all enjoyed our different selections, a very mannerable guy made himself known to us by sending over a round of drinks. He was such a gentleman, not to mention, he had impeccable taste. He sent us all freshly shaved grapefruit martinis. My tastes buds were honestly going through a cosmic journey. We made our way up to the rooftop bar, after several cocktails in the restaurant lounge and a rocky stop by the ladies' room. The view knocked the breath completely from my lungs. Between the alcohol and my sincere wanderlust, chills covered my entire body. What I saw was like a still shot of an electronic light show and an Independence Day Firework display. I cannot stress how beautiful this night's skyline was. I felt lucky to have a mental picture from the 60th floor to carry with me always. 

The view was nice and all, but we were ready to shake things up. Surrender was on the agenda for the evening. It was getting late, so the night air brought in a sweet breeze as we exited our limo. Immediately after opening the doors to The Wynn, it was like we'd entered a real life Alice in Wonderland garden. The air inside felt thinner and cool. There were flowers larger than my whole body, hot air balloons that I could fit a small house in, and ribbons the size of my head. Every inch of this place was like an extremely brightly colored lucid dream on acid. You could literally say we followed the yellow brick road down to Surrender, to get inside to find an even more unbelievable sight. There were huge swimming pools, cabanas, roulette tables, private sections, and bars lined up everywhere. To top it all off, we enjoyed an open bar for the next few hours. Needless to say, the poison coursed through my veins, and the trap tunes pumped through my pours for the remainder of the night.

I snatched the blinds open to let in the morning sunshine the next day. I was feeling wonderful, no headaches, dry mouth, or woozy mess. I was winning! After getting dressed, we grabbed a curbside cab to Madame Tussaudes' Wax Museum.  To be honest, this was what I'd been waiting on. As we went inside, it was like a great big party. Celebrities were everywhere, music was blaring, and drinks were flowing. It was completely unbelievable how realistic these statues were. As if I wasn't already enjoying myself enough dancing and taking pictures with the celebs, my phone rang. It was an unknown number, which I normally wouldn't answer, but something told me to pick up. I found a quiet corner, as best I could, and said, "Lacresha speaking". The young woman on the other end pleasantly replied, "Hi Lacresha. I'm a representative from the Alabama A&M University Graduate Studies department. I'm calling to let you know that we are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted into the program for Fall 2014." I was completely still for a moment, and joy took over my entire being. I immediately ran and embraced the girls telling them my good news. As if we weren't already celebrating life, I then had something special to toast to later on that night. 

"Teach me how to contour like that please!", I remember thinking to myself. These women were phenomenal. Then again, they weren't actually women, so I'm not sure how to phrase this, while remaining politically correct. We bought a table for the Diva's Vegas Showgirl performance in the Quad's theater. Las Vegas just isn't Vegas, unless you catch a show on the strip. These "characters" (for a lack of better words) were the real deal. There was Katy Perry, who immediately caught my attention with her voluminous blue hair and bubble gum lips, singing Teenage Dream. Her dancers were just the bees' knees adorable. One of them was so intrigued by my sister's hair and appearance that he dragged her out of her seat (which didn't take much effort because she's a self proclaimed star) and threw her right into the mix. They danced to the beat, slinging their natural tresses, and sung along with Katy. Next there was Brittany, Pink, Diana, Tina, and so many more. "LIZA MINNELLI!", I squealed.  Just when we thought they'd pulled out all the stops, Whitney Houston came to the stage. She blew, honey! The accuracy in her mannerisms was so incredible. Her makeup, hair, and how her lips mimicked the real Whitney were unbelievable. I never got the privilege of seeing this legend, so this was a real treat witnessing the next best thing. After sitting, singing, and dancing along through an amazing performance, a seriousness thickened the mood. A homosexual man sat before us on stage and stripped down to his soul. He wiped off all of his makeup, took off his costume, and sat before us in a plain t-shirt. He sung from the depths of his heart about how he was a real person too and not just a sexual preference label. I believe everyone in the room left with a better understanding of his world, because he allowed us to witness as he bared it all. 

There I was fumbling with my sandals, trying to swap them for my big girl heels in line. I knew this one was different; he'd have to be wooed and finessed. I was immediately devoured by the allure of the nightclub; Tryst was his name, if I can recall. To say that I was consumed would be an understatement. Then, I saw him. There he was, wrapped in red tailored garments, crowned by waterfalls, and dripping in flashing lights. The dance floor stole my heart. To keep my body away from him would be the ultimate failure to mankind, seeing as how, I was feeling an ounce of sexy myself. My skirt was below my knees, but fit tight enough to beckon a lurking eye, and my silk tank top revealed my toned shoulders and feminine neckline. My nude tone single sole heels paired perfectly with the peak of calves, which I had on display. Rounds, which I deserved, heightened my senses while managing to lower my inhibitions. All of the aforementioned, took me directly to him, I slithered and moved, twisted and shook, and tantalized him with my teasing moves. His lyrics were saying all the right things. I wasn't sure if I was doing this correctly, but it felt good. In an instant the girls pulled me away, saying the hours had slipped by. As I walked out into the foyer, replaying the night in my head, I knew I couldn't leave things as they were. I ran back swiftly, picking my high heels up one after another repeatedly, until I was back in his presence, close enough to taste. I kissed that dance floor with enough force that hopefully he'd remember my name. I don't know why I was so captured, and if I even left a mark on it, but to say the least, we danced to the same beat that night.

Everything after this amazing night felt like a blur. Vaguely, I can recall going to play the tables again, and losing about $100 after stumbling aimlessly up and down the Las Vegas strip at five in the morning. Katricia and I caught a cab back to spend one last night in our suites. We found ourselves in a rat race to beat the sun home, in which the sun prevailed. Once the sun pierced my eyes, the head banging automatically began. I didn't regret a thing though. The splitting headache was a small fee to pay for the wild ride I'd just gotten off of. Upon coming home, Vegas was really something like a turning point. What seemed dull and lifeless before, suddenly felt vivid. The sun felt a bit warmer on my skin, and the memories clearer than ever before. In retrospect, if my new found lover had the power to bring me such joy from thousands of miles away, imagine the effect it could have on my soul in close proximity.