Posted by holly on Jul 1, 2011 in
Blog We called it The Hangover part 3 - The Birthday. And we made him wear a
wolf t-shirt to show the world he was no longer a "one man Wolf Pack".
The twist was that instead of the four of us trying to get home from
Vegas, most of the drama was in the getting there. But there was a "huh,
why am I waking up in the middle of the night...and what are you doing to
me?" moment.
You see, up until 5am on the morning of his birthday, Fraser, the man of
honour had no idea he was going to Las Vegas. In less than an hour, to be
exact. Epic birthday present of epicness. It wasn't even my surprise, or
my Husband, but I was super excited just to be part of it. The planning
had been months in the making, and I have gotta give my best friend some
serious credit for managing to somehow book the trip, arrange it with Eric
and I, set up a ride to/from the airport and pack his suitcase, all
without her husband ever suspecting a thing. The only (weak) red flag
that had gone up in his mind was that he thought some of his clothes may
have been missing, but he just assumed they were in the laundry and let it
slide. The night before Eric and I had gone over for our usual friday
night Rockband extravaganza, and planned on crashing on their hideabed
under the guise that we were going to be too drunk to drive. Nothing
remotely unusual there. Except that at midnight we all started getting
suddenly really, really sleepy, but luckily our horrible overacting and
really dramatic yawns and stretches worked, and we were able to get some
shut-eye before our middle of the night wake up call.
Long story short, he had a happy, still asleep grin on his face when we
loaded him on the plane, and by noon we were in shorts and beginning that
great Vegas passtime, drinking, in a booth at Hooters. When in Vegas, go
as classy as possible, right?
Us girls had been to Vegas before, but both guys were Vegas virgins, so
we wasted no time showing them how to navigate the maze of Mexicans
handing out hooker cards (collect all 10,345 for a free t-shirt! No, not
really, but that would make all the guys collecting them slightly less
perverted). Funny story - we were all trying to collect a pile of these
to give as a free gift to a friend back in Vancouver (I swear... oh, never
mind...), so I reached for one as we walked past, and the guy wouldn't
give one to me because I was a woman! Sorry, lesbians, apparently Vegas
won't let you call 1-800-LIVEGIRLS.
Vegas is such a surreal place. Everything is oversized, flashy and
gimmicky, like Disneyland with exposed breasts. A place where everybody
walks around with their yard-ling frozen margarita permenently attached to
their lip and either a lizzardy brown tan that definately is not supposed
to appear in nature or clothes way, way too tight for the amount of flesh
squished into them. And if you tick both boxes... now that's just wrong,
people, wrong! I'm a shorts and tank tops kinda girl, and don't get me
wrong, I like my tanks pretty low cut and my shorts well above my knees,
but Vegas always makes me feel overdressed. Dramatically overdressed.
Unless I'm standing next to a fully decked out bride (Vegas bride count
this trip - 7) sweltering in the heat and trying to look fabulous (and/or
trashy), then I feel underdressed and confused as to how my invite got
lost in the mail. Is it just me, or is Vegas the most impersonal place to
get married? It makes a wedding a production line event there.
But I digress. Back to The Birthday. The one thing Fraser had told his
wife he wanted to do if he was ever in Las Vegas was to see Carrot Top, so
we made sure we had third row seats on birthday night. Let me just say,
Carrot Top was freaking hillarious. The posters tout him as "Vegas' #1
act" for _ many years running, and I can see why. It's approachable
humour, not too dirty, not too clean, not too overpriced and just straight
up funny. But he is one weird looking dude up close! I am so glad we did
that. He had this one joke about how the theme song to Las Vegas should
be The Proclaimers' "I would walk 500 miles", because all you do all day
is walk. You walk the Strip, where the hotels are so big it feels like
half a mile just to get from the Paris to Bally's next door, you walk
through the massive casinos, and then you walk down one of those endless
hallways from your nightmares with nothing but a thousand doors to finally
find your hotel room, which is always in the other direction that you
originally turned. By the end of that first day we were all coated in
that wonderful Vegas combination of sunscreen, sweat and casino smoke, had
an "oh my god I've been up since 5 and drinking since noon" glazed look in
our eyes, and our feet were actually blistered from all that walking in
the wrong shoes. Eric turned to me as we got back to our room and
sleepily commented that he didn't care what we did the next day, but could
we take a cab there?
Day two began with the other Vegas passtime (aside from drinking,
gambling, and gorging on buffets - which we didn't do, BTW. The buffets,
anyway. Not yet) as we headed to the half price ticket booth to secure
discounted day-of tickets to Le Reve. From there it was to the Venetian
for a gondola ride. I love that! And then we walked. And gambled. And
walked. And gambled. My casino luck in the past had been a consistant
thirty seconds to watch my $20 dissappear, after which I gave up and
watched everyone else have fun. Not this trip, baby! While the guys
watched the Canucks' playoff game at the diner in the Treasure Island, I
won $200 on the penny slots, and by the time we went home was up over
$400! We all did pretty good, actually, winning over $1000 between the 4
of us. Booyeah! So we celebreated with a ridiculously overpriced steak
dinner at Ruth's Chris Steak House (I will never understand that
restaurant name. Is a Chris Steak something that belongs to Ruth? Or is
it Ruth Chris' Steak House and someone put the apostrophe in the wrong
place? And what the hell is a Chris Steak? Looked like beef to me?
Needless to say, I had the chicken, just to be safe).
Everyone kept telling us Le Reve was the best show in Vegas. For that
price it had damn well better be! Well, we almost didn't get to see it.
We get to the Wynn, find the theatre and I reach in my purse to pull out
the tickets... only to find the zipper stuck. Not just a little stuck, but
terminally, can't even stick a finger in there to wiggle out the tickets
stuck. So we drop to our knees, pulling and yanking and trying to tear my
purse appart with our bare hands, which was then followed up with us
trying to hack into my purse with keys. This is when security showed up
and told us we couldn't sit on the floor in the Wynn. Apparently hacking
at a purse that may or may not have been ours was totally okay, but
sitting on the floor was just wrong. After a lot of elbow grease we
successfully ripped the zipper apart, shredded my purse, got the tickets
and enjoyed the show. Had to hold my purse closed for the rest of the
trip, but enjoyed the show. It was a kind of aerial acrobatics/high
dive/synchronized swimming/ballroom dancing show (try to picture that, I
dare you), but it was actually pretty cool. I'm not a fan of any of the
Cirque Du Soleil shows, they're just not my cup of tea, but this was
pretty cool.
Ironically, while all this was going down, the Billboard Music Awards
were going down at our hotel, the MGM Grand. Who knows, had we stayed
closer to the hotel we might have rubbed elbows with Rihanna or been able
to tell Britney that she's shorter, but just as slutty in person. But
alas...no.
Day three, the finale, dawned with us finally hitting a Vegas buffet.
Shit that was a lot of food. Good, but a lot of food. And you feel
obligated to eat it all to justify the $30/head price tag. In an
overstuffed syrup induced stupor we then hopped a taxi to do something I
never thought I would ever do - fire machine guns. Not toy guns, not
paintball guns, but big ass, turn the wrong way your doing life for
manslaughter machine guns. The ads for the Gun Store were everywhere, so
we figured, what the hell. The boy went for the giant scare the shit out
of me packages, firing things that looked like they could take down
passing aircraft, but the girls stuck with the "Ladies package" firing a
nice, feel like a TV detective handgun and a pink AK-47. Not only was it
pink, but it had a sticker of Hello Kitty holding a machine gun on the
butt. No joke. I have pictures. Have to admit I was shaking during the
actual firing, but it was fun. The feeling of power it gives you is a
rush, and that adrenaline is actually kind of unnerving. We should have
considered the fact that we then had to fly home with gunshot residue on
our hands, but luckily we made it past the dogs all right.
In the taxi back to the hotel, we all had drinks to replenish our lost
fluids from the two-hour wait at the Gun Store, and our taxi driver, while
stopped at a light, actually used the clippy part of his seatbelt to open
a beer bottle for Fraser. Amazing. He got a good tip.
Then it was suddenly time to go home and back to work and reality the
next day. We were all packed and ready, and upon arrival at the airport
my friend tells the online boardingpass printer thing that we're
transporting dangerous goods. Seriously. One wrong button press and you
get this voucher telling you to report to the check in counter for
additional screening. Visions of cavity searches and that aforementioned
gunpowder residue test start flashing before my eyes, but luckily this
must happen all the time, because the gate agent believed us that it was
just a little mistake and printed out our boarding passes without problem.
Will keep that in mind if I'm ever on the lam from the po-po.
And as quickly as The Birthday had begun, it was over. Back in Vancouver
we collapsed into our beds, only to wake up the next morning and wonder if
it was all a dream. But no. The free camo tee from the Gun Store and the
extra $400 proved it was real. And so worth it. What a great birthday to
Fraz. And, just for the record, if anyone ever wants to surprise me on my
birthday with a vacation, the date is August 28th 
Tags: birthday, Carrot Top, friends, fun, gun, Las Vegas, shows, surprise, walking
Posted by holly on Dec 26, 2010 in
Blog,
Tips ‘Tis the season for millions of people to migrate back to their Motherland and spend the holidays with their families. Consequently, it’s also the time of year all travel providers (airlines, hotel chains, etc) jack up the prices because they know whatever the cost, you’ll pony up, because being with your family is that important. Hell, even seven elevens increase their prices, so you’re paying more for that road trip essential Slim Jim. But with the economy being what it is, this year I’ve had a lot of clients forced to walk away from their standard plans, as the cost is just too high. The majority still traveled, but it got me thinking about the significance of spending the holidays at your home, away from the usual folks.
Yes, this is sad. It hurts. And there’s probably a good amount of guilt rolled up with it. But at the same time, this is a chance for a fresh start. A chance to spend time with your new “family”, biological or not, to gather together with the ones you love and see often and appreciate one another all the more. And a chance to create new traditions of your own.
We all have one – that family tradition you’ve been begging to get out of since you were old enough to formulate sentences. It may be Aunt Suze’s caroling around the neighbourhood, regardless of the weather or her singing ability. Or it could be watching A Christmas Carol, the old creepy one, for the millionth time. I mean, I am all about the holidays, but that is one seriously depressing movie. This year, you’re off duty. You don’t have to do any of that crap, and you don’t even have to pretend you did.
Ah, the Christmas dinner. That gold mine of traditions and “oh my God, what is that and why is it mushy”-ness. Being away gives you the freedom to decide what you want to consume. If you’re invited to a loved ones’ family fete, you can always create a phantom “allergy” to anything you don’t want to eat, they don’t know your medical history, and as long as you’re friendly and festive, your lack of eating anything that wasn’t turkey or off the dessert table will be completely overlooked. Or, if you’re cooking yourself, it’s even better. Always wanted that Holiday lasagna? What’s stopping you? For less than 4 people, turkey is way more effort than it’s worth, and what could be more festive than a red-sauced lasagna with white noodles and a green side salad? If it makes you feel better, refer to the cheese sprinkled on top as “magic snow”, then sit back and enjoy.
But the point is that no matter where you are or who you’re with, the holidays can be special, and if circumstances prevented you from reenacting the identical holiday for the 30th year, that doesn’t mean all is lost. It means you just have to redefine your definition of merriment and joy. Have fun! Have the happiest of holidays!
Just don’t forget to call your Mom.
Tags: Christmas., family, friends, fun, holidays, love, travel
Posted by holly on Jan 30, 2010 in
Blog,
BlogSherpa,
Tips “We’ve been best friends since ninth grade, we’ll have the best time in Europe!”
“I love him! Three weeks on the beach will give us time to connect more!”
“You’re going to Asia? Me too! Let’s go together and save on the hotel costs.”
It seems like such a good idea at the time. You get along with/are dating/are married to/share similar interests with someone and you decide “gee, Steve, wouldn’t it be awesome if we went on vacation together?” Picking your travel companion is usually done even before the destination is chosen, but before you begin to suggest a trip, stop and think about it. No, I mean, really think about it. There’s no greater test to a relationship than travelling together.
Let your mind wander back to your childhood. When Mom and Dad packed you, your brother and your ten thousand suitcases of crap into the van and took off for a weekend up at the lake. By the time you reached mile eight someone had thrown something, someone had been insulted and someone was crying. Just because you’re grown up and not necessarily with children doesn’t make a vacation any easier, as it still involves the same components: long hours trapped together and unable to escape, tedium where you have to struggle to keep yourself occupied or come up with something to say, stressful connections or deadlines, and exhaustion. Everybody reacts to these factors differently, and if, when she’s over tired and jet lagged, your best friend gets really weepy and needy or she gets so bitchy she’s taking shots at your family/career/significant other/fashion sense/pet, she may not be the ideal person to be with. Unless, of course you are prepared to handle this.
And don’t forget, you’re going to be just as unpleasant. We all have our triggers. God knows, I fly all the time, but if anyone I’m traveling with wants to wait and check-in for the flight less than the recommended three hours prior, I’ll take them out. We can relax once we’re through security, but until I know I’ve made my flight and am not going to have to run/beg/risk having my seat given away to a standby passenger, I’m in go mode. I don’t fucking care if you’re going to have to go sixteen hours until your next cigarette, that’s not my problem, so let’s get a move on it. Apologies to anyone I’ve told off in this situation over the years, but I still get this way every time I step into an airport, ticket in hand, and I don’t foresee this going away any time soon. Consider yourselves warned.
My point is that when it comes to traveling with someone, you have to, as my boyfriend always says when he does something that mildly irritates me (like leave his damp – they’re always damp – socks beside the hamper instead of two inches to the right in the hamper) take the “good with the bad”. If you can work through your differences in extreme conditions, then you’re going to have a fantastic time together. But if you have a mental picture of this person being perfect and they fail to live up to your expectations, you’re going to have issues.
Travel can test even the strongest relationship, bringing you closer than ever or tearing you apart. The way I see it, if neither passenger comes home in a body bag or handcuffs, it was a success. If times get occasionally testy just remember, you’re normal. That’s just part of the experience and (unless you’re the one in the body bag) you’ll laugh about it later.
Tags: boyfriend, family, friends, girlfriend, scary, tough, travel, weird
Posted by holly on Jan 1, 2010 in
Americas,
Blog I did it! I managed to fly to Kitchener-Waterloo Ontario and back without becoming a strangely dressed popsicle. And I didn’t freak out/scare off/offend any of the bf’s family as I met them all for the first time. High five to me.
I left Vancouver Boxing Day at 8am – if you want to get a great parking space at YVR, get there at 530am on Boxing Day. The place was a ghost town. So much for those holiday crowds. This was the day after the underwear bomber in the US, but my plane was half empty and there was no increased security or anything. My carry on backpack (I’d always wanted to travel with nothing but a backpack and fulfill that Amazing Race fantasy of mine – it was totally worth it!) was probably a little oversized, but there were no questions and I was still able to cram it into the overhead with a slight running start.
Arrived in Ontario to 5 degree weather, actually warmer than Vancouver when I’d left. You’ve got to be freaking kidding me. I was wearing a down jacket (that’s like wearing a hug, it’s the best purchase ever!) and god-awful snow boots, and it’s warmer?! I was vindicated the next day when it started snowing, and the snow continued off and on for the rest of the trip, so that was good. I love watching snow, anyway. When we get it in Vancouver it’s an event, so here, with everyone being so blase about it, I was the only one stupidly happy. Whatever. I was on vacation, if you’ve got one time to be stupidly happy, that’s it. And the snow in Ontario is so different than what we get out west: dry and fine, it can snow all day and barely accumulate, and it doesn’t stick to the roads too much – the ground temperature must be freakishly warm or something. It was cold, though, one day it was minus 14 Celsius before the windchill was factored in, and there was an extreme weather warning issued. Sweet.
Saw a movie (The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus – weird shit, but my odd art film loving bf was all over it), went go-karting with some of Eric’s friends, wandered around a mall without buying anything (because Canada has the same crap in stores on either side of the country, so there was nothing to get excited about), went to a Kitchener Rangers hockey game and watched his little sister’s jumping lesson on her gorgeous horse Romeo, but aside from that it was all family gatherings. This was totally new territory for me - I’ve never gone on vacay to just visit with people before. If I’m on vacation and someone I know happens to be nearby I’ll totally hang out with them, but it wasn’t the purpose behind the trip. It was an enjoyable experience. His family is all incredibly nice, and I was welcomed right off the bat.
Of course, the Rockband didn’t hurt, either.
Let me explain. I officially met everyone in one big shot as the second day I was there was the big family Christmas dinner on the 27th. His Grandparents (who we were staying with) held it, and they bought a full Rockband/Guitar Hero 5/Beatles Rockband set for everyone to play. Very little bonds people like some bad singing and crazy drumming, and we had already started when most of the relatives arrived, so their first impression of me was rapping out the Beastie Boys’ “So Whatcha Want”. Clearly it was my most shining moment. But it served as an awesome ice breaker! I highly recommend it. Thankfully they didn’t arrive ten minutes earlier when I was killing dogs with my fantastic take on Bon Jovi’s “Livin on a Prayer”. That could have led to an entirely different outcome
The days flew by and before I knew it we were flying home, back to the tropics of Western Canada. I could have stayed longer, although I’d need to find a better mall to shop in… It was a great adventure. I like his family a lot, and I’m not just saying that to kiss ass if any of them read this! I discovered that the bf and I can travel well together – that’s a test of any relationship, and from what I’ve seen as an agent, it can go either good or bad very, very easily. Thankfully we passed with flying colours - and that down jackets are a gift from the Gods. I’m really glad I got to go. Maybe next time it’ll be warmer…
Tags: animals, boyfriend, Canada, Christmas., Cold, family, Food, friends, fun, Go-Karts, Hamilton, horses, Kitchener-Waterloo, Ontario, Rockband, snow, winter