Once upon a time there was a guy who loved wine and a girl who loved tequila. They decided to attend a build-a-baby workshop for two, and were thus gifted with a zygote that turned into a fetus that would (hopefully!) turn into a screaming child that would be a healthy non-asshole.
One day the girl looked at the boy, who was drinking his 3rd glass of wine, and got really, really jealous.
"I want booze."
"Baby, you can't have booze!"
"I KNOW that, but I still want it."
"Poor baby," as he finished his glass and poured himself another. The girl seethed, and rubbed the rounding belly.
"I need a last hurrah."
"A Last Hurrah." The girl got very sly. "You need one too. I mean, the baby will be screaming to be fed every 2 hours. You're not going to get sleep either. I'm going to pump, so you're going to get to feed the baby every other feeding. Really. And if you're not feeding, or going to work, you're going to be doing laundry because we'll be covered in shit and vomit. I mean, this *is* an equal opportunity fetus."
The boy sobered, then became horrified and slightly green. He drained the rest of his wine bottle directly into his mouth. "Oh my god you're right. Let's go to Vegas."
And so we found ourselves at the top of the Rio, partying like rockstars at the Voodoo Lounge. Surrounded by shivering girls in mini dresses and stilettos, my husband videoed the booty shaking of his four-months-pregnant wife, clad most spectacularly in an overcoat, maternity jeans and ballet flats (I stopped wearing mini dresses in 30 degree weather when I was 23. I guess I'm getting old). I shook my boobies at the "Show in the Sky" dancers, and sent husband clamoring after the beads they threw. We watched naked boobies at the Stratosphere Vampire show Bite. I fell asleep at Penn and Teller (no offense to Penn or Teller - my fetus just decided it was time for mom to nap), fell asleep at Mystere (again, no offense to Cirque du Soleil. I really, really love Cirque du Soleil, and Mystere was fantastic. At least, the parts I were awake for), and fell asleep farting in the airport.
And the nipples, oh my god the nipples.
"Holy shit!" My husband grabbed my arm as I lost my balance.
"I slipped on nipples!"
"And vag! Did you see the giant vag I slipped on? Nipples, nipples everywhere!"
"Did you just say what I thought you said?"
"Yes. Oh hey, that guy is promoting Buy One Get One Free Escorts! You can have one and I can have one!"
"BOGO escorts? Wow!"
People asked us why we were going to Vegas while I was four months pregnant. Specifically, I couldn't drink, couldn't smoke, couldn't engage in one night stands with various strangers. What point was there, really?
But regardless of what I couldn't do, what I could do was walk, talk, listen and look at the sights and sounds of Vegas. An adult playground if there ever was. A way to lose yourself in absolute chaos. Something bigger than ourselves, condensed in a 6 mile strip of fun. Circus clowns, King Arthur's Court, the Pyramids of Egypt, New york, Venice and Paris, smooshed into an area smaller than Waikiki. What happens in Vegas, doesn't have to stay in Vegas - for us. Except for my $200 spent on the Mega Millions Slots. That definitely did not make it back home with us.
Boobies and Clowns and Stumbling Drunks Oh My! Here's to our Last Hurrah!