ask grandma j

WHAT HAPPENS IN VEGAS...
..is no secret

Because, when Grandma J steps into the world of gambling, corruption and brothels, she shares it all with her peeps! As my oldest daughter alerted you to on my last post, my flight out of the local regional airport, who's slogan is "We'll Take You There" was canceled, as were all flights to Houston, where I was supposed to connect to Vegas. The weather was fine, so why were all flights cancelled? Let me tell you...it's because it's the same friggin plane that travels to and from this local regional airport and Houston all day, and the next day. And because this condition is permanent and terminal (as in airport terminal), Grandma J wasn't happy with rescheduling for the next possible flight...the next day! So she walked all the way over to the only other airlines and got booked on their next flight which connects out of Dallas to Vegas.

Because this other airline is located about ten feet away, they arranged the change with the original airlines electronically. So, off we go, and because of the changes, Grandma J arrived in Las Vegas five hours late, but at least it was the same day.

I met Tabatha's Mommy, Marianne, who is also my son-in-law, Sgt. John's Mommy too...and my friend.
We stayed at the Four Queens downtown....
which isn't ritzy like The Strip with all the panhandlers and prostitutes. It's where the whole Vegas thing started way back when. It's also where the fabulous Fremont Experience is. Several years ago Fremont street was closed off for two blocks of hotels, that were renovated and covered to create a plaza with kiosks and a great laser show several times a night with great music.
Our room was on the fifth floor, and this is the view. This is what the covered Fremont Plaza looks like during the day from the street level.

These next pictures are from our room for the light show...which moves too fast for Grandma J's cheap camera.

And lookie who Grandma J found in the casino?

We had a blast, meeting old friends.

And getting chummy with people with familiar names, like John Wayne.
And maybe inhaling too much laughing gas...or developing a food allergy or something that might affect our small motor skills....just saying.

But two days later, the fun came to an end... or did it?

The final chapter of this junket is still raw and painful. Spending 22 hours to get home, with eight of them hanging with my new roomie was not the icing on the cake, just saying! The icing, if you want to call it that, was the fact that out of the zillions of others who attended our sleepover in the Houston airport, my new roomie and I were the ones who found the only four comfy chairs to make matching beds.