I won't bore you with all the nuttiness of work over the past couple of weeks -- the very early morning and late night calls, disrupted sleep, etc.
No. Really, I'm just recovering from last weekend. And not just the errands and such.
Saturday night,
Michael and I went to the Greek Theatre in Berkeley to see the fabulous Corinne Bailey Rae and John Legend. They were, indeed, both really fabulous. They even teamed up on a classic during his set -- "Where Is The Love?" -- though I think Michael and I may have been the only people there who were old enough to remember that 70's nugget.
Not so fabulous? The lawn at the Greek Theatre. It's very steep. Very. So steep that when I got there, and stood at the top of the lawn (after scaling an seemingly endless series of steps) scoping out seating locations, I realized that that was the only viable place to sit. That, and the bottom of the lawn, and that was full already. As I made the decision not to attempt to sit somewhere on the middle of the hill, a much younger and ostensibly nimbler gent proceeded to fall ONTO SOME OTHER CONCERTGOERS as he and his friends tried to get to a mid-lawn place to sit, confirming the wisdom of my choice.
This would be the theme of the night, watching people fall as they tried to navigate the incredibly steep grade of the lawn. I have a feeling the people who work there have security cameras trained on the lawn and get lots of laughs watching this spectacle. Happily, there was wine, good company, amazing performers, and a lovely view of the bay from the top of the lawn, so it was all good.
Sunday, I hopped on a plane to Vegas. For a day. I know. Sounds crazy, no? Hell, it's a short trip from here and worth the adventure to get to hang out with a
Pirate who lives a million miles away but was vacationing in Vegas.
The thing I always forget about Vegas, though, is how long it takes to walk from place to place. Heading to the resort next to yours? It'll take you 15 minutes just to get from your room to the front door of your hotel, as all paths force you to pass through the casinos. And then to get from the front door to the actual street is another trek. It all looks like it's so close together but everything is so friggin' huuuuuuuge, it take forever to get around. Alas, we didn't make it over to the
roller coaster at New York, New York...but we did head to the top of the faux
Eiffel Tower (I stayed at Paris -- a fabulous hotel) and had dinner next to the
faux canal in the Venetian. (Why are there no pictures? I forgot my camera. Dimwit. You'll have to be satisfied with his, once he gets his camera back. See, HE left his camera in Vegas...!) Oh, we even spent time in
Margaritaville, talking over some terrible house band that was playing. Here's some advice: when the waitress tells you you've just ordered the strongest marg on the menu, believe her.
The other thing I always forget about Vegas is the cigarette smoke that's everywhere. You can't smoke in bars or restaurants in California, and I forget what it's like in places where it's still legal. My hair reeked of it a couple of hours after my arrival, and I wasn't even near anyone in particular who was smoking. It's just hanging in the air, and in the ventilation systems.
Still, it was great fun and one of the few times in my life I've just gone with an impulse. I need to do that more often.
Where should my next adventure be?
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