Time for a Vegas Vacation?

Vacation desperation stubbornly clings to your fair blogger these days, like a sweat-soaked shirt to a sticky body on a smouldering summer’s day.

I want to get away.

To Las Vegas.


If you read Confessions of a Blogophobe with any kind of regularity, you know that Hot Wife and I are true Sin City aficionados.

Enthusiasts.

Fanatics.

Addicts.

We come by it honestly.

The in-laws are regulars to the desert, going often enough to be remembered in their hotel of choice, The Flamingo, whenever they return... often enough to have even lost count of how many times they have been.

They were our travelling companions when last we journeyed to Las Vegas at Easter 2010—that visit our third in under two years. Perhaps the fond memories of that trip, nearly a year ago now, are what have me longing for a return engagement at about the same time in 2011.

Or perhaps it is due to my own folks, who as of this writing are themselves vacationing in Vegas, for at least the eighth time in maybe seven years, up to no good no doubt, as they feed the slot machines, watch the people, and otherwise over-indulge on every wicked whim that can strike one’s fancy in a city that never sleeps.

We are jealous, Hot Wife and I, and dare I confess, tempted to do the same.

We know for certain that Sin City salvation will come this summer, when six of us will dash to the desert to celebrate The Matriarch’s 60th birthday.

But July can barely be found on the calendar when still there remains the rest of an endlessly frigid February to get through, followed by what we already know will be interminable months of March and April and May and June.

Four of them, between now—when we want to go to Vegas—and then—when we know for certain we will.

So we wonder, Hot Wife and I, if the bottom line might allow us to squeeze in a Sin City side-trip, to appease our shared cravings for cheap blackjack, and watered down drinks, and sunshine and pool-time, care-free irresponsibility, and really, the hope of at least breaking even to assuage the guilty conscience that could—could, I say—follow us home were we to return with pockets empty.

Responsibly speaking, the answer is no.

No, we can’t logically make it happen.

But then again, no will be the answer to most irrational questions when logic and responsible thinking are the only factors considered before a final verdict is rendered.

From where I sit, only one true consideration can possibly decide if fun and frivolity on famous Fremont are in the cards for us. That consideration—the almighty dollar.

Much of the past few days have thus been spent crunching numbers, counting Air Miles, and coming to the conclusion that yes, a Vegas vacation in eight weeks time could be engineered if all stars align the way we need them to.

It will take some serious creative accounting, some serious creative thinking even, but the flickering flame that so fiercely fuels our fire to travel is not yet ready to be extinguished.

We are close.

We are desperate.

We miss you, and hope to see you soon, Las Vegas.