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I really like the idea of throwback pictures/posts. But what I like more is the stories behind them. It’s fun to see what we all looked like way back when, but I love the stories just like the stories more.
The first time I went to Las Vegas I was ten years old and it was one of only two vacations I had as a child. We drove there in a blue station wagon, which I slept in the back of, in a sleeping bag for the majority of the trip. We had to drive though the mountains of Wyoming in the Spring time and I awoke only when our car was sliding off the road and in between two median poles. I just covered my head and went back to sleep. We made it there many, many hours later, and stayed at the Sands Hotel. The one the Rat Pack made famous. (back then I of course had no clue who that was, nor did I care…after all, it wasn’t Debbie Gibson and I couldn’t relate.) It was the first time had been in an elevator or on an escalator. You could see most of lights of the strip from its little windows. That hotel is long gone. Torn down many years ago. I don’t remember much about the trip, except there wasn’t much to do because it was just too cold. The city hadn’t quite evolved for families back then. I remember thinking it was kind of a sad town, even though it was full of bright lights when the sun went down. My dad would sneak down after we quieted down for the night to play cards….have I ever mentioned my dad is a petty amazing card player? Vegas is the first town I can remember wandering and watching the sun come up and blaze down on all the fancy cars and big buildings. I got a t-shirt that said “raDUCkale” with a giant picture of a duck on it in a tiny little shop. And that’s about it. My mom didn’t take any pictures, she doesn’t document quite to the extent that I do . Maybe that’s why I take so many.
The next few times in Vegas were considerably more fun. Especially since I was of age and really didn’t mind sitting at a black jack table by myself with the company of crazy people for hours on end. I’ve never been much of a partier. Drinking and loosing control in strange cities never appealed to me.
But lead me to a black jack table and I’m happy as a clam….have I ever mentioned I take after my dad. On the particular trip pictured above, I traveled with my soon to be husband (we got married just a few months later) and several other friends of ours. 8 of us stayed in one tiny room to save money. Many slept on the floor, when we actually decided to sleep. Just the type of things memories are made oF.