I hate to admit this about myself, but Las Vegas was 2 much 4 me.
As we drove south from lovely Utah, I examined my hands and nails.
This will never do in the party city! Dry skin, short nails with no polish.
Then I looked in the mirror. Wind-burned face, chapped lips and wind-blown hair.
Spa emergency? In my dreams! No time for such indulgences.
The “country mouse” was about to enter the big city looking disheveled and dirty.
Would I stick out like a sore thumb? Hiking boots among the spiked heels? Wool within a sea sequins?
Within minutes of entering Treasure Island, I no longer cared how I looked.
There was a parade going on. I was an insignificant bystander.
We merged into the fast-moving flow of folks moving forward.
No one looks where they are walking. No wonder. There is too much else to see.
All eyes are on the bright lights, the flowing fountains and flashy folks.
Even the ceilings are decorated.
I had to swing to the margins of the herd to take pictures.
We had a short list of places to visit before our Cirque du Soleil show started.
The up escalators were strategically turned off, so we had to take the stairs.
First was the fountain show and Conservatory at the Bellagio. Music and dancing water are magically choreographed.
Next we strolled through the Venetian under the perpetually sunny skies.
Dodging people, crossing streets, horns blowing, engines revving.
Mr. Flower and I were happy to board our plane and skedaddle back to North Carolina.
Flow is 2 old 2 party. My fast and flashy days are over. (If I ever had any?)
Give me my garden!