Vegas: Not your Momma's field trip

Should it really stay in Vegas?

I’ve done the unspeakable in Mom terms.  I took my daughter to Vegas.  I didn’t take her there to party Vegas-style– but I took her nonetheless.  I’m not taking one for the team on this one, my husband went too.  Although he will say it was my idea.  I wanted her to see the crazy cool buildings, go shopping, see the street performers, go to a show, eat good food, go to a football game, and meet my friend and her daughter.

Vegas looks really different without the beer colored glasses.

It was like realizing Santa is not real.  (Obviously, I am still traumatized by that giant lie, but that is neither here nor there AND didn’t involve giant plastic oddly shaped glass like vessels full of drank and slushy matter.)  I have only been to Vegas two times before and had a great time – with other adult friends.  I’m sure I was exposed to all the things below, but because I was more concerned with my friends, eating good food, gambling, etcetera, I didn’t notice the other stuff. 

Don’t get me wrong – we had a great time, my daughter and husband and I. We did go to a show, shopped, soaked up all the sun a Northwestern person could take without going Lobster and everything else I mentioned. Vegas is great for all those things.  But it’s different when you are with one of your two most precious people in the world.  Lady Hedonism goes right out the window and out emerges Amish Momma.  I just didn’t realize how brash Vegas really is.  Denial is something, isn’t it?  Amish Momma was busy, busy, busy the whole weekend.

Enough of the guilt, there has to be a lesson here.  And with eyes wide open, we learned a lot!

So, what should stay in Vegas, and what should we bring home?  Jeez, so many answers. 

The hoochie momma dresses/skirts – that are really shirts – should stay there.  It was shocking.  We saw more hoochie than Momma should ever see.  What happened to good girlfriends saying to one another, “No, don’t wear that, your hoochie will show”? It took everything I had not to rush at them, throw off my Amish cap, and try to pinch an inch of the tight sausage wrapping fabric and wrestle it down over their humps.  This would have humiliated my daughter (or maybe she would have laughed – hard to know, sometimes she doesn’t like me or my Amish ways) and may have resulted in time in the Hooscow in Vegas.  So, I just happened along behind the walking “sexy”/trashy tightly wrapped chickies and tried not to stare at the “dresses” that seemed to have goals of their own – to make it up to the bra area in 5 steps or less.  (I would have said bra, but many were not wearing them.) I was transfixed and stared at it like you would at a slow motion train wreck.  And then, at the last minute, she would reach down and give the tight fabric a yank and wiggle inchworm style back into the “dress”. To say it was disturbing really underestimates what we were going through.  It is an image that is forever in my brain. 
Lesson:  Look AWAY, for dog’s sake!

The prostitutes.  Good lord almighty.  I think they should stay in Vegas. I am a bad prostitute hunter – needless to say, I don’t have a use for them – but even I saw one or two. (And one even winked at my husband.  He didn’t tell me about it til later and he said she was pretty hot.  OMG!)  But, I can only be sure I saw two.  They were coming out of the elevator cursing and talking ghetto about how they were going to “come up all on that b***** if she didn’t stop staring” at them.  I had to look away quickly because I didn’t want THAT all up on me.  But, because I have only seen prostitutes on TV, they looked much cleaner than I was used to.  That threw me.  And they were fit.  Or seemed to be.  How would I know? There was so much hooking up going on around me, that I couldn’t tell if it was a transaction or girls gone wild.
Lesson: Prostitute hunting is for the weak and desperate -- not intended for Amish Moms.  And for God's sake, don't stare or they will beat your a$$.

The roving bands of drunken men.  They were like sailors that had been on the ship too long.  Really boys? The plane ride wasn’t that long.  Looking down on the pool from the hotel it was like those videos you see on the Today show of the schools of the great white sharks off the east coast circling and swimming looking for their next kill.  It was crazy.  Up close, they were even more dangerous.  They were being served buckets of beer (chum) and I NEVER saw one get out of the water to go pee.  Just like sharks – only sharks don’t have a choice about the bathrooms.  The lovely, sweet, patient waitress would set the bucket down and back away.  Out of striking/touching distance.  I’m surprised they didn’t have sticks to push the buckets forward just to stay out of the frenzy zone.  Amish Momma says they should stay there.  And they do.  Or their drunken selves do.  You see these same dudes at the airport and they are back to normal.  Or they are too hung over to even move their eyes.  The chum is a dim hazy memory.  “Was I a shark? Did I sit in a pool of pee with my man-dude friend? Wait, what?”  Yes, dumb ass, you did.  I watched you from under my Amish bonnet.
Lesson:  Sharks are dangerous yet stupid. Stupid and dangerous are a bad combination, but when combined with alcohol --we all become chum.

There were so many lessons I taught my daughter – like a mini internship.  Which is what it is like in real life, only lessons were ripe for the picking everywhere you looked.  You can’t really teach a teenager brought up in the “English” world with your Amish cap on, so I had to pull it off and go stealth.  Pointing out all these “interesting” scenes along the way, asking what she saw, thought, felt. 

Looking back on it, I am torn as to if I should have taken her.  When I had gone there in the past, I was a pretty self-involved adult.  I had only myself to think about and so I could ignore the hoochie mommas, prostitutes and shark-men.  I don’t truly know how she processed it – it is a lesson and experience we will continue to talk about for some time to come.   (And we were in our room by 11:30 every night!) I will say that if I had truly seen Vegas when I had been there in the past, I would not have taken her. It is a lot for an adult to process, let alone a young person. So, no, I am not torn.  But, do-overs are not a real part of life, unfortunately.

So, it has to be a lesson.  

These lessons…they should come home with us.  They shouldn’t stay in Vegas.  No one is listening there anyway.  Sharks can’t hear and those girls are miss-guided, not to mention sad.  I can only hope she saw it for what it is.  She will be a step ahead of me.  That is what I want. 

One day I hope she buys an Amish cap of her own.  From our conversations, I think she is considering it.