As I reported yesterday, Poor Kyle and I had an illicit weekend affair in the ever-sultry city of Las Vegas last week. It was all very dramatic, except for the part where it wasn’t, and can anyone say Prima Donna?
As is common with weekend rendezvous with one’s lover (as if I know what’s common for a rendezvous with a lover), it was not easy arranging for a perfect meet-up. Kyle’s schedule is constantly changing, and no matter how I tried to time my arrival, I just couldn’t get there right when he was arriving. Instead, I rolled in a few hours early and was left to my own devices to navigate the strip on a Friday-night (scary as hell), check in to the hotel without getting raped while walking through the parking garage (also scary as hell), and occupy my time until the appointed hour (not scary, just kind of lonely).
Vegas is not a city for the single and faint of heart, that’s for dadgum sure.
As I wandered through the shops connected to our hotel, I found myself reflecting on my life. What was I doing in Vegas alone on a Friday night? How had I reached that point? Was it really where I wanted to be, the secret mistress of a much-beloved husband?
It was a confusing time for me. Epic, really.
Finally, I decided to go back to my hotel room where I belonged, and as I sank into the most delicious bed I have ever experienced, I slept deeply, accompanied by the self-doubt I’d been entertaining for the better part of the evening.
Then, at 10:00 p.m., I was startled awake by a familiar sound: Kyle’s personalised ring on my cell phone.
“Hello?” I answered, groggy.
“Hey, Babe. Can you come get me?”
I shook the lonely sleep from my head, traipsed back through the parking garage without getting raped (second great success of the day), and typed in his location to the GPS. When I got there, I weaved in and out of the rows of semi trucks, and finally, at long last, I found my husband.
It had been a long and troublesome journey, but as soon as I set my sights on that man I met nearly five years ago, all my woes melted away and everything was okay again.
It’s a big cliche to swallow, I know—but it was true. My second trip through the streets of Vegas was a complete one-eighty compared to the first. Where before I had felt out-of-place and kind of depressed, once I had hooked up with Kyle, all was right in the world. I was with my buddy, my bodyguard, my best friend. And everything was better.
The experience was a great reminder to me exactly why I married my husband in the first place. He is my go-to guy. He always has been. And I sort of feel like the stress of the past four months have blurred that perspective of him. Not that we were getting divorced or anything. But we’d each been really intently focused on different priorities—he with his job, and me with my school. Both were good priorities, but it still remains that being focused on different priorities for too long can have a bit of an alienating effect on a couple.
But this weekend, we were finally able to regroup. Now that the immediate crises of schoolwork and job changes are behind us, we were able to get back together and remember what we liked about each other so many years ago. It was like renewing vows, only after five years instead of fifty.
So I’d say the trip was a success.
And now, just because you can only take so much of my sappy sundries, I will lighten things up with a tour of our hotel room. Just ’cause who doesn’t like a good tour?
We stayed in PH Towers by Westgate, a sister hotel to Planet Hollywood. The room had some awesome amenities, but what we liked best about it was its location: it was right on the strip, and the lobby actually opened right up into the Miracle Mile shops, where we spent a great portion of our time. We like just walking and window shopping, and the mall was a bit safer for the eyes than the strip (though we did venture out there a bit).
A caveat for my parental readers: I probably wouldn’t recommend PH Towers as a hotel for families with young travelers. It seemed to cater more to the 20s-30s single scene. Lots of parties going on all night. I was awoken both nights at 2 a.m. by rowdy groups storming the hall outside our room. It was annoying, but not nearly as earth-shattering as it would’ve been if it had woken up my sleeping kids. You understand.