LEGENDARY

More stories of note from our LEGENDARY trip to Las Vegas:

All cocktail waitresses at Bally's are old. I mean 65+ old. There was one who was probably just 50, but she had a knee brace. It's where old cocktail waitresses go to die. One night we nicknamed our cocktail waitress Grandma (no to her face of course!). But we had an even older one (70+) on our last night. She was called Grandma's Grandma and had wicked pencil-outlined lips filled in with a nasty light pink. She would hover next to you until you tipped after each drink. We also decided that they would be better off (as would we) if Bally's let their cocktail waitresses ride Rascals. Just think of all the drinks they could carry!

I initiated V into the wonders of Deadliest Catch thanks to their Labor Day marathon. Dude, that show rocks. Especially when you are wasted in Vegas.

The customer service at Bally's was exceptional. The front desk gal got us into adjoining rooms. The Spa attendant was hysterical. The Spa manager was fun. The dealers rocked. Even the one from Minnesota! The only downside to Bally's...no restaurants or room service after midnight. WTF? V & I had to go to the vending machine at 1 a.m. when a wicked case of the munchies hit.

Favorite dealers at Bally's: Ladanna, Pinky (swear to gawd), Minnesota guy. We actually shouted down a dealer who thought it was her turn to take over his table. HE'S JUST ON BREAK. HE'S HERE TILL 4!!!! We wanted Minnesota guy back. And we got him.

Favorite table mates: V of course, who never hits on a 16 and sometimes hits on a 14 when the dealer is showing a 3 (GAH!); impeccably dressed Jewish mommy of 2 from Dallas who asked if V was my friend. Then asked if she knew she was "FUCKING the table taking that hit?" Priceless. Also her husband stood at the table a while and commented that they never met people like them (I assumed cynical, dirty, mocking and very drunk); also enjoyed the company of the late 40s gal from Minnesota who sat down and said she was "kind of quiet." By the end of the hour she was asking where that "fucking waitress" was with her beer and hollering each time she won. I live to teach, people.

But by far, the hot doctor who played blackjack with us until 4:30 a.m. was the icing on the cake. An adorable 30-year-old orthopedic surgeon from DC sat down at our table and nearly charmed the pants off all of us. Seriously. OK, so he was just a resident, but still hot. When a Japanese tourist tried to sit in V's chair while she was in the restroom, Doc let him know it was taken IN JAPANESE!!! Right then and there I told him he was so hottttt I could kiss him on the mouth. He giggled and said he had been stationed in Okinawa. WTF? Oh yeah, he had been in the military. He was married, but contemplating divorce since his very successful surgeon wife took a job in another state. Oh you poor, good looking, sweet, sweet doctor man. Rest your awesome head on my shoulder and just let it all out. Mmmmmm...hot vulnerable doctor. I actually asked if he wanted us to make a doctor sandwich. Again, seriously.

THE GREAT RASCAL CAPER

V & I met up for a four-day, three-night stay in Vegas. No hubby, no kid and three comped spa treatments each. Food, drinks, antacid, fun. Legendary.

A couple days before departing, I read this story about people renting motorized wheelchair/scooters (like the Rascal) in Vegas because they are too lazy to walk a million miles down The Strip to get their next gigantic frozen daiquiri in a yard-long plastic Eiffel Tower or Stratosphere replica. Lazy fucks. Grab a taxi like the rest of us or go join the Midwesterners on the sidewalk. That got me thinking (and drinking) and talking with V. We decided we needed to Rascal-jack someone. Not the healthy but lazy folks. No, we wanted to jack a person who really needed it since we would have a better chance of out running them due to disability or age. We really wanted a Rascal of our own and decided that the elevator would be our best bet for a successful Rascal-jacking. Just get in, then push the person out of the Rascal and exit on the next floor, leaving the Rascalee laying in the elevator unable to follow. Of course we would hit the button for the top floor giving us just a little more time to elude capture before the Rascalee could claw to the emergency phone. But alas, no Rascal riders ever fell prey to our deviously simple plan. But damn if we didn't laugh until Bailey's shot out of our noses every time we passed a Rascal in the casino.

Legendary. More stories to follow.