Last month I took a whirlwind trip to Las Vegas to attend my very dear friend Amy's wedding. She and I were roommates throughout our college years at BYU, and she lived with me in Boston for a year as well. Amy is my homegirl. We have logged many miles together through the years, and there was NO WAY I was going to miss her wedding. After making arrangements with my family to take care of my dad, I booked a quickie flight to the Silver State for the nuptials.
I got into Vegas pretty late on Friday, April 5th. One of Amy's brothers had hotel connections, so he arranged for the entire wedding party to stay at the same place. It was lovely--a huge bathroom, a full kitchen, and my own private smoking patio with a door that had a very complicated locking mechanism that appeared to be broken. This was a problem for me, seeing as how my room was on the ground floor. Amy and I tried to figure out the lock for about ten minutes, but then gave up and called the front desk. Two minutes later, a nice young maintenance man named Hector showed up at my door. Hector gave it his best shot, but eventually admitted defeat. He called the front desk to tell them of my predicament, but they said there was nothing they could do about it because the hotel was totally booked.
Great. I've got a hotel room on the ground floor with a broken patio door. I'm a poor, defenseless, devastatingly beautiful single girl staying all by myself, and Hector knows it. My mind starts running through worst case scenarios: Amy, annoyed that I haven't answered her calls and haven't shown up at her room to do her makeup, has someone at the front desk open my door where they finally discover my murdered body lying on the bathroom floor. Fortunately, during my last few seconds of life I had managed to scrawl out a message in my own blood: IT WAS HE C T O r...
I had to do something, but what? Frantically, I scanned the room looking for ideas. I began shoving furniture up against the patio door. Then I pulled out all of the glassware from the kitchen cabinets and balanced them precariously onto the furniture so that if anyone opened the door they would come crashing down, thereby alerting me to an intruder's presence. I also balanced a heavy artsy piece on the edge of the table for additional alarming potential. When I was done, it looked like this:
I still slept with one eye open, though. It wasn't my most peaceful night's sleep, that's for sure.
The next morning Amy and Paul went to get their marriage license, so the rest of us were free to spend the morning however we wanted. I'll bet you can guess how I spent MY morning:
BOOM! A two-stamper! Lake Mead and the Hoover Dam were a convenient half-hour drive from our hotel.
Sara "Bowman" Gardner, if you're still reading this blog, I apologize for not arranging a rendezvous while I was there. The pull of the NP passport stamp was just too strong. One day soon I will clasp you in my loving arms and you will have no choice but to forgive me.
After the stampin' frenzy, it was wedding time! I helped Amy put on her makeup, which was done hastily but still turned out pretty darned good. I love a girl who's not afraid of bold red lipstick! And fake eyelashes! If I ever get to have a wedding day, I'll be rocking both as well.
They got married in the Little Church of the West, which--although I never got to verify this--appears to be made of gingerbread. It was just so cute and so little! This church is the oldest building on The Strip, and boasts some high profile weddings: Angelina and Billy Bob, Richard Gere and Cindy Crawford, Elvis and Ann Margret in "Viva Las Vegas"... and now Amy Parkin and Paul Mulder!
The wedding ceremony was short and sweet--just what you would expect from a wedding chapel that has a 15-minute turnaround time. I figure that's probably a good thing, though, because who wants to sit on folding chairs (or in our case, a wooden bench) for any longer than that? Wrap it up, preacher. That wedding cake ain't gonna eat itself.
After the ceremony, we toured the Neon Museum, which is a very hip and funky museum where all of the famous old neon signs from The Strip go to die. The lady with the awesome Australian accent who led the tour was very knowledgeable and told us all about the history of The Strip, which was FASCINATING. If you ever find yourself in the Vegas area, don't miss the Neon Museum! It was excellent. In addition to just giving tours, the museum also restores some of the old neon signs and put them back out onto the streets.
After the Neon Museum, we went to a tasty little restaurant for dinner, but I had to duck out early so that I could catch my flight back home. It was the quickest trip ever, but it was action-packed and so, so much fun! You always want to see your friends happy, and I've never seen Amy happier. Paul couldn't be more perfect for her if she had designed him herself, Weird Science-style. I love the guy. He is a wonderful addition to our circle of friends. Congrats you two crazy lovebirds!