Vegas Baby

I was a Vegas virgin until a month ago. My friend Janey always said Vegas was my idea of hell: (1) you never sleep; (2) everyone smokes; (3) and most people are drunk all day. My solution? Going to Vegas with a one year old. Solves all those problems.

We went in order for my sister to speak at a conference and to celebrate my dad's 60th birthday--2 years late. Julie was a ball of nerves waiting to board the airplane. We were flying Southwest and she was determined that we get the front seats so that we could utlize the one that face backwards. It's been a while since we flew Southwest, and they don't have those seats anymore. That fact combined with the fact that the flight was continuing and there were already passengers on the plane really threw her into a tailspin. She quickly recovered and we were on our way.

Will did fine--for the most part. As long as he had goldfish, he was quiet. Eventually, his overflow valve kicked in and he had to spit a few up to make room for the next pound, but all in all it was uneventful.

We stayed at Caesars and were lucky to get in there, so our room was below average. We took advantage of the buffet, the pool and the Shops. We walked the strip, ate at Bobby Flay's Mesa Grill and saw a Cirque de Soliel show. It's amazing to me that all of that exists in the middle of the desert, but I really have no desire to return. I wouldn't be opposed to it, I just won't put it on my calender for the near future.

Anyway, Will was perfecting his walking while we were there so it was fun to watch him do the Frankenstien shuffle. In addition, he developed the habit of just sticking his fist out at you. We have no idea what it meant, but finally decided to join him in the action. And no, those are not my legs behind the rest of the family. Those are Toni Braxton's.

The Youth Center

I read an article in my hometown newspaper last week that the Youth Center may be closing. The Youth Center was a Mecca for teenagers in Mo-town on Friday and Saturday nights. You could begin going the summer after your 6th grade year and could continue to go until you turned 16. I can still remember what I wore for my first Youth Center Friday night--and I am not one of those people. I wore Keds with two pair of socks, some light blue shorts that tied around the waist, layered t-shirts--a yellow one underneath with a Guess t-shirt with a puppy on it on top with the sleeves rolled up, of course--my hair was 1/2 up with a big barrette bow. I was smokin' hot!

The Youth Center was just a great place for us to play all those teenage games. It had a pool table and a conversation area with a television, but if we were there, you can bet we were on the dance floor. We all fashioned ourselves dancers anyway--we were all part of the local dance company--but the Youth Center gave us the freedom to freestyle it on the dance floor. Of course, our friend Cathy choreographed special dances to songs such as "Rock Me Amadeus" and "It Takes Two." To this day, if you get a bunch of Mo-town girls in a room with music, we will not hesitate to get on the floor.

The funniest thing was the fire place. It had a hearth that was about 3 inches tall. When a slow song would come on, all of the established couples would line up along the fire place (being in the middle of puberty, there were boys and girls taking advantage of the 3 inches provided by the fireplace) to sway back and forth together. Miss Glenda was the chaperone and she would come along and make the boys put their hands back on our hips if they wandered too far down. The rest of the single girls would make a mass exodus for the bathroom when a slow song came on only to pour back out when the DJ corrected himself with the fast music.

Far and away, my favorite senior party when we graduated from high school was the Return to the Youth Center. It just made me so sad to learn that such a great, safe place for kids to practice being teens may not make it. Mainly because I really wanted to do that "Rock Me Amadeus" dance one more time.