I know... I know, you have all been waiting for the exciting conclusion to Vegas. So, we had walked past the bunny and saw more of Pete Rose and our feet. Off we headed down to see the rest of the shopping area. We stopped at FAO Schwarz (the big toy story featured in Big) and yes... they did have a giant piano that everyone gathered around as if waiting for Tom Hanks to come out of nowhere and start playing Chop sticks on. I am sure for the right price Pete Rose would have.
Then we headed down to the end of the shopping center where there is an animatronic show depicting the fall of Atlantis. The Vegas.com website states it best when it describes:
The story unfolds as King Atlas tries to determine which of his children will rule Atlantis. The siblings try to destroy each another, poisoning the kingdom with their greed. Finally, the gods decide to step in and settle the dispute, launching the Fall of Atlantis. A 20-foot winged beast appears from behind Atlas' throne and watches over the destruction as Atlantis is consumed by fire and then flooding water.
During the show I looked at Mandy and laughed. It was embarrassingly shoddy. The first thing I noticed was that the sound system was so echoey all I could hear was "Warwa wa wa wa woo way weh..." I thought Charlie Brown's parents were actually narrating. The next thing that stuck out to me, was the herky jerky motions of the robots... excuse me, animatronics. They were so erratic and abrupt they made C3PO look like a smooth moving Rico Suave. I also noted that King Atlantis' mouth was broken and did not move. From what I could gather from the herky jerky gestures and the "wer wa wa woo wa" was that this king had two kids and they were fighting over the city of Atlantis. One of the children had control over water or maybe ice... possibly both and she was threatening to make sure all of her brother's TV dinners were always frozen and never warm in the center and the son had power over fire and had a sword of fire that he frequently waved around and I think he threatened his sister that her popcorn would always be either unpopped or burnt to tiny puffs of charcoal. Their father... perhaps the king listened to them a while and finally grew irritated and yelled "That's it! I've had it up to my crown with this squabbling! I am sinking this place and retiring in Fort Lauderdale!" and so he sunk it and bought a nice condo with the insurance settlement. For some reason there was a giant pterodactyl behind him. For his sake, I hope it wasn't his wife, because the communication barrier in that relationship would be a monster. As King Atlantis I am sure he was always "War wa wa woo way wooweh!" and she was always "Screeeeeecchhhhh! Crrrrrrraaaaaaaawwwwwwww!"
The other hokey part about the "animatronic marvel" was that the robot for the guy with the sword of fire... his hair/wig thing was all cinged. It sort of set the cherry on top of the whole ball of cheesiness. I seriously think the animatronic show at Chuck E cheeses is better coordinated. But, as one of my friends reminded me... It's free!
After seeing the animatronic marvel we were growing weary from not eating in the past 30-45 minutes... so we all lethargically staggered down the strip and put our famished selves in line for one Hell of a good buffet at the Paris. (After a short jaunt over to the venetian) More on that after this little tangent. Vegas is a strange place for many reasons one of which... the people standing on the strip shoving, snapping, waving cards in your face for call girls, or whatever they are. I found that by completely ignoring them, they pretty much left you alone. Vegas is a strange place because they allow this to go on all of the time. Now here me out on this. I am sure the litter problem from these people is a huge problem. Maybe Vegas doesn't care OK fine. But, I have thought about taking my family to the mirage and eating at the Carnegie Deli, but I am sure I am not alone in being very apprehensive in exposing my children to that, because I am sure one of them will try to pick one up, I will have to stop them and then comes the questions I don't really want to answer "Why is that lady naked? Why are they passing out cards? What are they for? Who is Pete Rose?" and so I probably won't take my family to Vegas which is a loss of revenue for them. So, maybe Vegas isn't Disneyland and maybe it isn't a place to take a family anyway. But I thought about the opposite end of the spectrum. I wondered what would happen if there was a preacher standing with them snapping pamphlets and handing out tracts. I can only imagine the public outcry and the huffing and puffing that would occur around such an event. Not that I want to see either one of them standing out there passing me literature. It just solidified the concept of how surrealistic Vegas is.
Back down to the Paris Casino we went to Le village buffet. The buffet has different themed stations. I think there were five in all. dessert station with creme brullee (I am sure I will slaughter most of these spellings) tiramasu, pecan cookies, cheesecake, pecan pie, peach pie, flan, and chocolate chip cookies. the salad bar had salads, crab legs, several types of cheeses I had never tried before, rolls and breads. The grill station had chicken, beef, lamb, grilled mushrooms and even grilled egg plant. There was a crepe station where each crepe was made to order and they had salmon that was great some pesto pasta steamed mussels and soups and prime rib and shrimp that I was too full to even try. The atmosphere was set up like you were sitting in the streets of an old town Parisian village. I kept expecting someone to step out on one of the faux balconies and start dusting a rug. My pants now fit a bit more snug thanks to that place.
That night a few of us went back down to the casinos on Fremont street, watched the light display and lost our money. Leaving we found we had parked in a parking lot that was only validated by a bar. My niece strolled into the bar, told them a bald faced lie that she had eaten there and forgot to have her parking validated and then we went home. In single night Vegas turned us into a pack of gambling, over indulging, lying, cheating, bar going sinners. Oh let's be honest... Vegas didn't turn us into what we already were.
Sunday we lounged around on the red couch like frumpy royalty who get fanned by servants with palm fronds while being hand fed plump grapes. As my mind threaded in and out of consciousness I dreamt of Elvis wielding a fire sword who used it to grill us up some more pastrami sandwiches. I awoke and found my leftovers from Carnegie and cherished each succulent bite knowing that it could be a while before the Carnegie and I crossed paths. Not that I was planning on not coming back, I am simply a realist and understand that life picks up steam and pretty soon you are going clickity clack down the rails of life while the things that you enjoy go whizzing on by in flashes of brilliant color, barely distinguishable from the scenery, the smoke and the cinders lofting down around the fading objects behind.
Monday we made our final hurrah by enjoying $1.99 breakfast at Binions again (sorry, no one dressed in white jumpsuits just a guy that looked just like Dick Cheney eating alone at a table behind us) and then we were off to the airport and our Vegas vacation over, out of surreality and into reality.
Dave has a very unique laugh. It is comparable to thunder eminating from a mid summer tempest. It starts out low and quickly builds to a booming rumble that fills the whole room and makes things on shelves shake and tremble. To tell Dave a funny joke or story is a horrifically rewarding moment. Dave is great at listening, but even better at talking. I have marvelled at his ability to tell a story. He gets his eyes and arms involved and great voice inflections at the perfect moments and suddenly you find yourself sucked into his tale like you were there. His stories are so animated, children love to hear him tell stories. He finishes each story by rolling back on his heels and howling out his huge laugh. People like to be around Dave. 
Even though my sister is the worst offender when it comes to being a morning person, she still has plenty of other great characteristics for me to list. She is well organized and planned. Somehow she seems to have acquired all of the artistic talent in the family. By profession I am a designer of sorts. Some people get designers and artists confused. Big difference. By my definition, a designer is someone who knows what looks good and assembles art into a pleasing arrangement. An artist creates beautiful things rather than just assembling it. I am afraid I can't even draw a stick figure character. She has exhibited ample talent in almost every medium of art. Somehow Tami has figured out both ends of the spectrum. Your stereotypical artist probably lives a cluttered and unorganized life. Tami is perfectly organized. I am sure Stephen Covey ripped all of his ideas off of Tami for the Franklin Day Planners. She is also active and continuously doing something. Her husband teases her because when she is watching a movie with him, she is knitting, widdling, painting, gluing, sawing, welding, casting, typing, carving, bending, folding, smoothing or fixing something. 
Kimball. Where do I start with Kimball? Kimball is the spiritual leader of the family. I find it ironic that he does a perfect imitation of Yoda. Kimball also has a keen sense of humor. One time we were waiting to meet someone at a 7-11. It was at the base of Big Cottonwood canyon. There were several skiers entering and leaving the store. Outside there was a man using the payphone. Kimball suddenly started making up a dialogue for the man on the phone. The man on the phone seemed to mimic the actions that would go along with the dialogue he was making up. He seemed to grow agitated and nervous at the right times or laugh or seemed to be listening at all of the right moments. We both found it so funny that he could not continue because we were both laughing too hard. Kimball is also very good at encouraging me at whatever pursuit I am engaged in. When I was in high school he gave me a camera and gave me a demonstration on photography, what all of the dials and knobs are for and how to frame a picture. Most of what I learned led me directly in to the profession I am in now. Two years ago he took me to a screenwriting class that ruined my life. I have since yet to be able to sit through a movie without analyzing the writing and thinking of suggestions that I would tell the writer to improve the movie if I had the chance. From Kimball I have been given a great spiritual example and counselor. I have learned to laugh and enjoy myself wherever I am. And I have been instilled with a greater sense of self confidence.
Doug is similar to Dave in that he can listen and communicate very well. Between the both of them, I think they took all of the scraps of the gift of gab and by the time I got around to picking from the genetic gene pool there were a few tiny crumbs, but nothing you could call anything left over. I throw this out as a humorous scenario, but I would not be surprised if Doug could or has done this. If Doug were to be pulled over by a policeman, you could easily lean over to him before the officer arrived to the window and say "Betcha $20 you can't get that cop to rip up this ticket and whiz all over it." 10 minutes later you will be forking a $20 over to him as the patrolman strolled back to his car leaving a freshly urinated on shredded ticket on the ground. Recently he bought a car and told them he was not paying the dealership fees. They said "Well, most people have to pay those fees." He said "Well, I am not most people." The sale person phoned her boss and the fees were waived. If I tried a stunt like that, not only would they decide to not sell me the car, but they would bill me $2,000 for wasting their time and being ridiculous.
Heidi is a nurse and has seen all sorts of nasty, vile and gory things that would have me out cold on the floor. she even says it is "cool" and "interesting". Paired with her ability to view all things "blech", she has a natural compassionate disposition. One time there was a family of raccoons living in our attic. They had made a hole in the roof and they were raising a litter of babies in all of the insulation. Animal control dropped off a trap and soon all of the raccoons and the babies were captured. Animal control was called and they said they would be by to pick up the raccoons so they could be disposed of. Heidi took compassion on the babies and took it upon herself to hand feed them their last meal. Like all of us, Heidi is quick to laugh and has a good sense of humor. From Heidi I have learned that blood is just like motor oil, it's just a fluid and even though I want to freak out when I see it, I really shouldn't. That raccoons are people too and when life gives you lemons, feed them to other people so you can laugh at their reactions.
Lori, my tragic sibling. Tragedy befalls her on every move. The two have formed a companionship like Laurel and Hardy. Luckily she has the sense to laugh at herself, roll with the punches and keep her fists up. I have rarely seen her get bummed about anything. If she does, she doesn't show it. I could share experiences, but they happen so fast to her, It's like hopping on a runaway train, there is no getting off once you board. So, I will share some that I am familiar with and are neatly contained around one subject-- her car. Right after her divorce she needed a car, but didn't have much money at all. I browsed the papers and we went and looked at one in Salt Lake. It was a horrifically ugly, silver, four door Mazda GLC. One side of it had been repainted with a silver can of spray paint. The guy selling it barely spoke any English, but it was cheap and it seemed to run fine. She bought it. At the time she was living in our neighbor's basement apartment. They have a long sloping driveway that is a couple hundred feet long and connected to the top of the culdesac that we lived in. Dividing our property from theirs was a long row of poplar trees. Lori Brought her daughter out who was 3 or 4 at the time, and ran back in the house to grab something. When she came out the car was gone. After a few seconds of panicking she saw it at the end of the driveway buried in a stand of bushes. Her daughter being the active and curious child that she was had pulled the car out of gear and then stood up peering over the back of the driver's seat in horror as she watched through the rear window the car careen down the driveway out of control. Some how it weaved in between two trees and ended up in the bushes. The rear wheel spindle was damaged. The good thing about owning a clunker, is that there are ample parts at junk yards. I found one and replaced her bent spindle. Then her car started sputtering, I identified a cracked carbon canister. replaced that. Then she had a total electrical melt down. One of the fuses had been replaced with a fuse that was rated over what it was supposed to be. Whatever it was, shorted out and melted a huge wiring harness together. After the plastic insulation melted on a few wires, some wires began touching other wires and soon nothing worked and everything was shorted out. One by one I went through and began matching wires that entered and exited the melted snarl of electron chaos. I then snipped each wire and patched in a segment of unmelted wire. This was all under the dash, so I spent most of one day laying on my head up against the pedals, my back resting on the edge of the seat and my legs sticking up in the air like an awkward set of strange looking twins. I guessed right on 90% of the wires. It was the other 10% that made driving the car from then on interesting. Things like the windshield wipers didn't work unless you turned on the defroster. You couldn't honk the horn unless the radio was tuned to AM 1020, the left turn signal on, your right leg placed out the passenger window and you had to be traveling at exactly 27 MPH. From Lori I learned to smile when things get rough. To stay positive and enjoy what you have. 
Shawn, as my friends growing up would always tell me, looked like John Cusack. Not sure where I came from. All of my brothers have darker complexions, black hair and are quite handsome. I am blond and blue eyed and a little more rough on the eyes. I imagine it worked better when they had me in public and they could deny any relation to me without much acting and still present an undetected lie. Speaking of lying, Shawn was a master. One time he went camping. On his way home he called from a pay phone. Lori answered and he started telling her this long story about how he had caught this huge fish and all the time and effort it took to land the behemoth and then he told her that when he cut it open it was full of bologna, just like this whole story. Lori was believing everything up until that point. Shawn also used to like to call up people and act like he was mentally challenged. One time my sister got a phone call from someone who was asking for money for a charity who truly was disabled. Tam interrupted them and said "Nuh-uh! Who is this?" They started over again. Tam interrupted again "Shawn knock it off, what do you want?" They started again and Tam began to realize that maybe this wasn't a joke. Another time Shawn's family was out of town. He called me and said "I am sick, can you come and make me some dinner?" I said "Uh, OK what do you really want?" He said again "I'm sick, can you just come and heat up some soup or something?" I paused "You are serious aren't you?" He groaned "Yes, I am serious" I went over to his house half expecting him to jump up from the couch and say "Nah! I am just kidding I got a new video game. Do you want to play it with me?" But, when I saw him on the couch, I could tell he wasn't kidding. He really was sick. 
Hello?…Hello?…Is this thing on?
11 years ago
