How NOT to celebrate your 50th birthday…

I celebrated my 50th birthday last Thursday, July 26th, and by “celebrated” I mean, I was in what felt like a third world emergency room in the most wretched of cities, Las Vegas. I know some of you love Las Vegas, call Las Vegas home, and have nothing but the best feelings about this desert town. Sorry, I call it, Hell. You may find this post offensive while hopefully, for me, it will be cathartic.

Let me explain…

I chose to have my 50th birthday in Las Vegas because I hadn’t been there since the early 80’s and I understood that it was a changed place, a place of celebration of the highest order. I also choose it because it seemed easy and practical in it’s location. Finally, I choose it because my kids had never been and REALLY wanted to check it out. In the end these were all the wrong reasons to go. I’m more of a tranquil beach person. I like the sound of crickets, I love fresh air, a cool breeze and simple comforts. So what was I thinking? Fifty years and I’m still making poor choices.

The minute I stepped off the plane I knew immediately I had made a mistake. I should mention, as an omen, the plane went through quite a bit of turbulence during the last 1/2 hour of the flight. (I’m thinking that’s what happens to aircrafts when they descend into Satan’s lair – they shake a lot because even they’re scared.) My motion sick body turned into a wet, limp noodle. I basically had a full blown panic attack on the descent, heavy breathing that would scare Linda Blair, permanently traumatizing my son. Nice start.

I wish this had been me. She actually looks like she’s having fun in comparison.

I don’t want to make this post longer than it should be. Suffice it to say that I was incredibly sick (nauseous, jittery, flu-symptoms, body on fire, anxiety deluxe, etc.) for the entire trip. 1. It could have been my body de-toxing from all the pain medication I had been on for my tooth/ neuralgia. 2. It could have been an anxiety attack 3. It could have been the flu 4. It could have been that it was 112 degrees in that smoke filled inferno of a city and I was dehydrated 5. It could have been a welcome to your 50’s hot flash of epic proportions 6. I think it was just the perfect storm. I ended up in the emergency room at 5:30 in the morning on my birthday. I was dehydrated and delirious — IV fluids hooked up, and Ativan coursing through my veins. Good times…

Reasons why I hate Las Vegas

  • There’s way too much stimulation. Every one of my five senses felt assaulted, violated and abused.
  • It’s dark, desperate, depressing and smoke filled not to mention cheese filled.
  • The masses of people, just in general, are silicon pumped, tacky, status seeking, lost souls looking for a moment of pleasure to escape their crappy lives. That’s way harsh and a generalization, but I’m not changing it.
  • It feels forced – forced fun. Eww.
  • It’s hotter than the sun. I was so uncomfortable that I kept my curtains drawn the entire time. I had the hotel engineers come to my room on 3 occasions to FIX my air conditioner. My hormonal body needed to feel refrigerated and  I just wasn’t cooling. Yes, it was making me very cranky. I took cold baths.
  • It feels like another planet, a circus planet of cartoonish proportions.

I understand that my reasons for hating Las Vegas are likely some one’s reasons for loving it. To that, I say, Vive la difference! By the way, for what it’s worth, my kids loved it.

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