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Wednesday, December 1, 2010

Smokin'



Las Vegas        has more hotel rooms than any city on earth. It also boasts 15 of the 20 largest hotels in the world. "Sin City" probably holds plenty of other superlative titles as well, but since Andy and I first came here in 1976, it has grown from a mile of flashing neon to miles of high density ultra high rise hotels and from show girl floor shows--we paid $7.76 a ticket then--to world renowned entertainers at hundreds of dollars a seat.
We go to the best deals available.
Tara's flight arrived on time at Las Vegas airport, and picking her up was a smooth enter-exit through the arrival passenger pick-up lane, thanks to cell phone communication.
There were plenty of fun activities to keep us busy--for the older non-gamblers in the morning and for all three of us in the afternoon and evening.
City Center, recently opened or at least new since we were last here, boasts some impressive art works. We took an art exhibit walk. After watching another show of Dancing Waters at the Bellagio, the three of us meandered south down the Strip, watching people, admiring lights, avoiding street corner girly handouts. Once Tara was registered for her Ag teachers conference, we relaxed at Harrah's showroom, the Mac King Comedy Magic Show, and later in the evening downtown at the Golden Nugget, Country Super Stars Tribute. For us, Vegas has always been about shows at discount prices, but today was non-stop chatter, since we had not seen Tara in three months.
Red and blue lights flashed behind us at 12:30 a.m. as we drove back to the Riviera to drop Tara off for the night. "What did I do?" asked Andy, turning into a side driveway in front of a defunct gas station.
Tara grabbed her seat belt; I looked around and wondered out loud if the hanging inside light could be a traffic violation. We had not even had a glass of wine at the evening show two hours before.
"I wasn't speeding," said Andy, "and the guy in front of us went through the red light. I don't think I did anything wrong."
We both totally agreed with him.
The Las Vegas officer walked up to our driver's window. "Excuse me," he said politely, leaning towards the car like he might be smelling for alcohol. "Did you know that your registration is expired? The little ticket on your license plate says May of 2007."
Immediately, Andy laughed. "No officer, Connecticut changed procedures some years ago. The new registration is right here." He pointed to the left front windshield.
The cop, a good looking, young guy, looked closely at the window and then shined his flashlight on it to see more clearly. "Hey Joe," he yelled back to someone out of our sight, "Did you ever see this before?"
Buried in the back seat of Little Red, I couldn't hear the answer.
"I thought you were pot smokers from Connecticut," said the cop. "All I could see was your light hanging down inside the car, and it looked like one of those air refreshers that mask the smell of marijuana."

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