After this past weekend in Vegas, it occurred to me that I never divulged the deets of our Mexico trip. I’ll wrap it up in a quick, non-sentence sentence. Direct deposit from my work that never went through, shitty rooms, all-inclusive crap food, hubs lost his cell phone, Chitchen Itza tour eff-up times 2.

We did still manage to enjoy our trip, despite almost DAILY dramz. I even got a little tan. (high-five.)

SO. Vegas. VEGAS! We were so excited. Sun, booze, gambling, shopping and excellent rock ‘n’ roll. What more could we ask for? Oh, dear god. We should have known.

Our flight in was just fine. Originally, Delta was dickish enough to put us in seats not even close to being in the same part of the plane. Did I mention they did this to us on our return flight from Mexico? Because they did. Thankfully we were quite early to the airport on Thursday and managed to get into an exit row in seats next to each other. WITHOUT PAYING FOR IT. (I know, right?!) We got to Vegas, collected our suitcase, headed to the hotel, and then to the Earl of Sandwich because we were starving and apparently that’s all that’s open at 12:30am in Vegas.

Friday – we had lunch (because the line for the breakfast buffet was OUT OF CONTROL) and had some delicious drinks. Then we shopped. The hubs bought me a few items at Anthropologie (including my dress for April!) and to reward him for being such a great dude, I offered to buy him a margarita in one of those yard glasses that everyone drinks out of in Vegas. We waltz up to a stand in the middle of the Forum Shops in Caesars and order two.

“Which tequila?” they ask, and rattle off a list of crap that I don’t remember because they said Patron and I stopped listening.

Patron it is! The hubs whispers to me “this is going to be like, $100.” I laugh and say “As if!” (because I love quoting Clueless) and watch as they make our drinks. I’m counting the shots of tequila get poured in…1…2…3…4…….5?! Holy crap. And I’m still not doing the math in my head. She rings us up and says something that sounded like one hundred something, so I thought I misunderstood. Then I look at the price. $107.50. FOR TWO DRINKS. I start laughing hysterically and look at the hubs. I cannot afford this. So he pays. HE PAYS $100 FOR TWO DRINKS. Of course the were gigantic and would last all day, but my god?! Ridic. I have a picture. I’ll share later.

We walk around a bit more and then pit stop at our hotel so we can dump the remainders of our margaritas into cups sans ice to we are set for drinks for the rest of our trip. I filled FIVE GLASSES with our remnants. Thank god we didn’t drink it all or we’d both be dead in the middle of the desert or something.

Anyway, we spent the rest of the day gambling, shopping some more and watching the Twins. We had a 10 o’clock reservation at Olives at Bellagio – a fancy italian restaurant. We went back to the room, changed and had dinner.

Now…at some point during his meal, the hubs said “this doesn’t seem like it’s cooked all the way” and continued eating the veal anyway. Bad…bad idea.

Seven in the morning, he gets up. The sounds emanating from the bathroom do not sound good. I write it off to the cream sauce from the food and the patron. However, he does not get better. It only gets worse. By 11am he was barfing. And I had a bad feeling about the rest of the day. Around 3pm I left to get him some saltines and some gatorade. I got back and he looked half dead – face pale white and lips totally dry and cracked. He couldn’t even keep water down.

He told me I was going to the show by myself.

I sent a text to my friend A back in Minneapolis. Flights to Vegas were $700 and she wouldn’t get in until 10pm. No dice. My other friend A in Phoenix was broke and couldn’t come. My other friend S lived 8 hours away and wouldn’t make it in time. BLAST! I was going alone.

But I did. And I was fine. The show was AWESOME. (I’m talking Them Crooked Vultures, here. SO GOOD. If you like musics, you should like them. Or maybe that’s just me.) Made friends with a couple girls who’d driven there from Fresno, and then waited in a 45 minute cab line when the show was over. I got home to my hubby who had finally stopped barfing and showed him the pictures & poster I’d bought, and we went to bed.

He was a little better the next day, so we were able to make our 3pm flight. I feel so bad that he missed a whole day in Vegas…but I’m so happy he’s better. I’m also happy he didn’t barf on me on the plane.

So yeah. That’s two trips in 3 months…our first ones alone…and both were mildly disasterous.

Is there a trick to traveling without dramz? Someone tell me.