So we knock about town like this -- me hobbling around with a torn schnitzel, her atop her perfect martini legs. It is bliss. For once, we're not worrying about getting back at any hour or even what time to eat. When we're hungry, we'll eat. When we're thirsty, we'll drink. When we're tired, we'll drink some more.
"Mix!!!" I say, climbing aboard the Deuce bus with the $5 all-night pass.
I dubbed this surprise getaway Operation M-O-M. In the planning stages, secrecy was paramount. No one could tell Mom or the little guy, who would spill like some loopy French spy.
"We're going where?" Posh asked when I finally broke the news about the trip.
"Right now," I said.
Turns out, women need a little more advance warning than "right now." Six hours later, we were screaming across the desert in the minivan.
"I knew all along," she said.
"Sure, you did."
So now we are at the Golden Nugget, playing blackjack on her birthday. I'd played earlier, and now it's her turn. Since she's turning 21, I thought blackjack would be the perfect game for her. Not so. But I like downtown, which seems to offer a more vintage Vegas vibe, sort of brassy and Western. I keep stepping in spittoons.
Posh is less enamored with downtown. She thinks it's coarse, particularly the blackjack pit where the dealers have cleavage that rivals that of the Grand Canyon.
"That's just gross," she says.
"Let's get outta here," she says.
And back to the Strip we go, where we have a marvelous dinner at Nob Hill, one of the many fine restaurants at the MGM Grand. The MGM may not have the buzz of some of the newer joints. But it has the best chow in town.
"This is sooooo good," Posh says with every bite.
Tomorrow morning, we will sleep in. That's right. No kids. No dogs. No clogged toilets. No baseball practices. No hamsters.
After that, we might go to a spa, or maybe just lie around and do nothing. When you're the mother of four, nothing can be as magnificent as doing nothing.
I, on the other hand, am the master of doing nothing. What a fortuitous occurrence.
Blackjack, baby. Remember, you're only 21 twice.