I have a deep and expansive history of rushing into situations and following the irresistible urge to do things based purely on impulse. Looking back, it has rarely ever worked out to my benefit but apparently… I’m not a quitter.
We had decided that Vegas was a great mixture of a vacation and a wedding spot. We didn’t have much money, so we wanted to get the most bang for our buck.
We flew down with another couple and both of our fathers. This was my first time in Vegas - I was mesmerized by the lights, grand hotels, people watching and the hooker cards.
That first night, I won $600 on a slot machine, and I thought that gambling was super awesome and I could see how people could get addicted to it because you get lots of free money and people come by and pat you on the back when the lights and sounds go off, and your friends are really excited and jealous all at the same time.
The next day, I managed to lose $100 within an hour of getting up. Gambling had lost some of its luster, but my naïve thinking was that if I so easily won $600, surely I could win more…?
I ended up gambling away another $200, spent $100 on food, and another $100 on Vegas imprinted crap to bring back to friends and relatives. You would think that there must have been a cash factory in my ass I was spending it so fast.
That evening, the (damn frugal, stupid) ATM would not let me get any more cash out. I reached my daily draw limit. I was feigning like a crack addict for more gambling money. I was completely hypnotized by the lights and sounds of the pretty pretty slot machines, and I was sure that the NEXT ONE, that one with the fake Egyptian music and Cleopatra’s face plastered on it - I was going to WIN MORE!!
Fiancé reluctantly gave me $20, and told me to make it last the rest of the night.
…20 minutes later, I came plodding back to him with my head hung so low you would think someone called me fat and stole my puppy.
The next day was WEDDING DAY!!! I was so excited I could barely contain myself. Today was MY day, and dammit, it was going to be an awesome, amazing, glamorous wedding day in Vegas. We had opted for a late afternoon ceremony at a chapel downtown, kiddy corner from the county courthouse.
It was noon by the time we got up and got dressed, so we hurried downstairs to meet our Dads, who were accompanying us to the courthouse to get the marriage license.
After a 7-minute $25 cab ride, we arrived at the side of the courthouse, where the county clerks’ office was. It was a hot 104 degree day in Las Vegas and magically, the AC was not currently functioning inside. Not to worry. I still had plenty of time to get back to the hotel and take another shower.
Fiancé and I stood in line while Dads waited outside. After what was most likely an eternity spent in the death-filled heat trap, we finally arrived at the window.
The large woman with a floral print top and untrimmed eyebrows -- almost to the epicness of a unibrow – stared at the both of us with dull eyes that looked like a dead fish.
She suddenly smiled and stated that we must be getting married like she was a fucking psychic.
Nevertheless, we completed our paperwork and walked outside to meet our overheated fathers. We had to take the marriage license to the chapel prior to the ceremony, so we set off down the block.
We made it to the chapel and dropped off our license.
Feeling a little out of energy, we decided that lunch would be good.
Seeing the Stratosphere, we figured that we must be only 6-8 blocks from the strip, and that an afternoon walk in the sun would be pleasant.
12 blocks later, we were not any closer to the Stratosphere. It seemed as far away as when we started. I was dripping with sweat, imagining that this is what it must be like for people to be wondering the desert aimlessly, delirious from the heat. I figured that I must be over exaggerating, that I was being dramatic.
After 3 more blocks, I couldn’t stand it anymore. This was my wedding day, I was tired, grouchy and covered with sweat and dust after wandering the backstreets of Vegas for 45 minutes thinking that someone was going to jump out at any moment and cut me.
I convinced the rest of my party to hail down a cab after severely slowing my pace and dramatically panting “Water… Must have water…”
Upon arriving back at the hotel and eating lunch, it was time to start getting ready. My spirit had been uplifted, and I was still determined to have an awesome wedding day. I ran up to the hotel room to take a shower, while Fiancé went to our friends’ room to take a shower there, and hang out with his buddy.
Buddy’s wife had her own hair salon, and was going to do my hair for the wedding, while the two guys went to gamble a couple hotels down the strip. Right as I was getting out of the shower, hair friend called to say she was on her way down. I hurriedly put on a tank top and underwear and stuck my head out the door to wave her down.
I didn’t immediately see her as there was a maid cart in the way… So, I stepped out, and upon seeing her, I waved my hand for her to come down.
This is when the door shut behind me.
I immediately tried to turn and push on the handle as if by some super-cool handle-jiggling trick, I would be able to magically open the door without a key card. Hair friend made it to my end of the hall, and seeing me with my hair dripping wet, and standing there in my underwear, immediately started laughing. Still facing the door, I let out a big sigh and after a moment, did a face-palm with the door… A face-door…
Hair friend was nice enough to call hotel security so we could be let back into my room. It took the guard 15 minutes to get up to my room after the call, and by that time, I was curled up against the door crying and sobbing that I wasn’t going to make it to my wedding and that I was just in my underwear and my hair was wet and and and…
The guard must have thought I was doped-up delirious crack-addict, and refused to let me back into the room.
I would like to say at that point, that I sucked up my pride, told him to fuck off, went down to the front desk and demanded a new key card.
However, I didn’t want to be kicked out of the hotel without any pants on.
I called fiancé on friends cell phone – He was able to make it back to the hotel room in 20 minutes and by that time I had 10 minutes to get ready. After quickly curling my hair, putting on a sundress and flip flops, I ran downstairs to find that the limo to take us to the chapel was about to leave.
Wedding day wasn’t that tragic, and we were able to make it to the chapel.
We got a divorce a year and half later.
The end.
