(*Introduction: This blog is about a trip taken last year.)

On the last day of our trip, in Las Vegas, we were a little tired of the Strip and wanted to explore the desert again. Thus, T drove us out to the Valley of Fire. Once we arrived at the valley, we realized why they called it the Valley of Fire for the whole valley was red. As we drove into the valley, there were many interesting formations; one of them was called the Seven Sisters. My favorite formation, however, was the Beehives, which had many crevices to hide in. We were too tired to hike, but we roamed the valley a little and took pictures. Luckily, we found an amiable lady from California who took our picture for us. She was so witty and charming that we had a nice chat with her. Meeting new people is what I like about traveling other than exploring new territories.

After the tour of the Valley of Fire, we went to the old historic district of Las Vegas, the Fremont Street, which was the gambling district before the Strip was built. There were plenty of street performers to watch and many of them were quite good. However, there were some performers who were more like displays than performers; one man was wearing nothing but a little piece of loin cover that barely covered his “junk.” I tried not to stare but ashamedly peeked at him. I told L, “Did you see that he only covered his you know what?”

L responded uninterestedly, “It’s not impressive.”

She was rather harsh, but I agreed. Nevertheless, it was so sad that a man had to strip in public to earn a living. It would have been better to beg. If I had to beg, I would wear an eyepatch like a pirate and beg pathetically, “Oy, could you spare a change lassie?” And like the naked man, the older part of Las Vegas’s attraction was its presence of loves and dreams lost through gambling. I almost felt mournful, but since I don’t always care to be jovial, I embraced its lingering melancholy that permeated the Fremont Street.

Other than the somewhat seedy charms, there were plenty of inexpensive souvenirs to purchase at Fremont Street. Poor L’s feet were swollen, and she was able to find a cheap pair of flip-flops. Thanks to her swollen feet, L didn’t wish to go out to dinner. When she declared flatly that she wanted to be excluded from going out to dinner, T looked stunned. I was annoyed that L had to be so ungracious to our hostess and thought of throwing a pillow at her but quickly softened up to her because I knew that she was truly hurting when she acted like a sulky child. I told her to rest—and almost told her not to open the door to a soliciting wolf while we were out.

Finally, I was able to wear my lavender dress. Feeling uncomfortable about the revealing cleavage, I wore a jacket to cover the cleavage area. Then we were off to the Cosmopolitan hotel where the restaurant Jaleo was located. We were rather early, so we went for a drink at the Chandelier Bar. The violet lights at the bar complemented my dress. The bar consisted of two levels if my memory is correct. The whole bar sort of made you feel as if you were encased within a giant chandelier. It was a perfect setting to take pictures. Anyone who wants to strut their “stuff,” should visit the bar and take plenty of pictures. Not only was it a glamorous bar, but it was also a great place for cocktails. The male bartender made a delicious drink for T; he even topped the drink with an umbrella. I know what you are thinking; you think me a yokel for fussing about a mere umbrella, but the female bartender, who served us previously, was too busy flirting with the male customer (she thought by flirting, she would get more tips) and didn’t bother to stick an umbrella in our drinks for us, so I was touched that the male bartender didn’t forget the umbrella since it was T’s birthday party. Something simple like an umbrella could cheer up a girl. And by the way, we are women, but we tip better than most men.

Now, there was a cosmopolitan-looking gentleman at the bar and he was friendly. We wouldn’t have minded chatting with him, but we knew that he was hunting for a “mate” for the evening; thus, we didn’t wish to waste his time and kept to our selves. Sure enough, he was off; he knew how to play the game and knew that Vegas was full of women who were willing and ready. We, who were obsessed about cocktail umbrellas were not the ones to be bothered with.

After two drinks, we were ready for dinner. Jaleo was a lively, open restaurant. I loved the appetizing colors that decorated the restaurant. With the vibrant colors surrounding us, we were destined to overindulge. We decided to settle for a tasting menu “The Jose Experience,” and the server was very accommodating about not serving us pork.  Soon, we were served with many dishes that were served at intervals. It felt like a show—more like a carnival of food. The appetizers were fantastic but the lamb meat in the entree was a tad tough. If I went to Jaleo again, I would order appetizers only. As we were stuffing our face, T texted L if she wanted us to bring some food for her, and L texted back that she would be grateful for anything because she was starving. I then asked the server to wrap up the leftovers since it was for a sick friend who was waiting for us at the hotel (ok, I had to be dramatic about it).

Once back at the hotel, L received her dinner and nibbled on it and declared that it was a perfect amount. I think that she was glad of not accompanying us for she was terrified of eating too much. She later told us how annoyed she was with us because we were always thinking of eating and thought of us as the “two skinny bitches.” We all laughed until our bellies ached. Poor L, we had stressed her out by eating so much. Somehow, for T and me, the sightseeing made us hungrier and thus we had to eat more than usual. It was our last day in Las Vegas, and we were soon to return to normal. We started out on our trip both excited and nervous about spending time in a small space together, but we ended up appreciating our friendship, even when we felt angry at times with newly discovered annoyances. We discovered that we could openly become angry and say “bitches,” yet still found that we liked each other. The discovery made me realize that we became closer to one another through our shared adventure, and we planned to have more in the future. We were sorry that C was not included and hoped that she could join us next time. The trip created a lasting memory that we were sure to cherish.