The first time I stayed in Vegas, the room wasn’t ready at 4:00 PM. They checked me in anyway, and I was greeted by a completely wrecked suite. A party had been held by the previous occupants. There were streamers, deflated balloons, and several disposable stryrofoam coolers, floating full of melted ice and empty beer cans. The bathroom was an explosion of drink-mixing aftermath.
This time, our flight from Philly was delayed, and then late in arriving, getting us here around 11PM, local time. The Flamingo messed up the reservations, so I’m bunking with my brother, instead of him with my father. And better. When we walked into the suite after midnight, it still hadn’t been cleaned.
I’m trying to decide which time was worse. This time, all over the carpet, we had several bottles of shampoo, opened and drooling on their sides. And, of course, there was a used condom, carefully laid across the telephone receiver. A gift to housekeeping. And me.
Unfortunately, waiting for a sanitization team wasn’t a big problem. The morons scheduling this shindig wanted us to work right then. So, we slogged off to Caesar’s, where we started removing Christmas trees and garland, the same I put up a month ago. Wrapping them in plastic-wrap. Driving them across the entire complex. Loading them into a trailer. As it started to rain.
We did that for 10 hours, local time. Which meant, I was up for 28 hours. Now, after a slender eight of sleep, I’m back to work in minutes.
And it’s been a cold, desert rain, ever since.