Vegas Recap, part 2

Once Chris left, I was exhausted. Emotionally and physically. Friday night I didn't sleep well -- I think my mind was over-stimulated from everything that is Las Vegas. And Saturday, I was worried about him.

I called Bubbles, a bit teary, and she talked me out of my funk. "You are a fucking rock star. You only get to be in Vegas for a few more hours, make the most of it. Don't let him being a jerk get you down. Don't make his issues yours.

"You are not going to sit in your room for the rest of the day. Go get a fabulous dinner tonight, go to a bar and watch the game, walk around the strip, go gamble some more. Do not call me until you are back in your room, and it better not be until midnight."

She was right. And so while I was waiting for closer to my 40th birthday, I figured it would make a great story to get my new tattoo in Vegas. At Vince Neil's tattoo parlor, no less. I had brought a print out of the picture of my avatar with me, just in case. I guess, this was the just in case moment.

I washed my face, forgot about Chris being a jerk, and headed out into the sunshine. I went into the parlor and like a strong, confident woman, handed over my picture and asked if I could see what the tattoo artist could draw up for me. The girl behind the counter took the picture back to him and said he would have something for me in about 30 minutes.

I said I'd be back, and walked further down the strip. I got a bottle of water and window shopped. Thirty minutes later, I was standing with a John Popper look-alike as he showed me his rendering of my baseball heart. It looked awesome. We talked about where I wanted it, and before I knew it, my shirt was off and I was laying on the table. My 40th birthday tattoo was going on.

No turning back now. Would it have been fun if Chris had been there with me while I got it? Of course, but this could be a defining moment for me. I would make it be.

Tattoo was finished, and after a quick look in the mirror, it was bandaged and I was on my way for next adventure. I walked down to the Bellagio, and watched two fountain shows. I teared up a little – they were more beautiful than I ever imagined.

And the inside of the hotel is just as amazing. Blown glass ceiling, atrium, fancy shops, marble columns. I want a boy to take me there, and even if we can’t afford to stay there, he can simply feel me up behind a pillar. It has become the American version of my Bridge of Sighs romantic fantasy.

It was getting close to game time, so I headed back towards my hotel. I saw Elvis along the way and got my picture taken with him. How could I be in Las Vegas and not get my picture taken with Elvis? I found a micro-brewery bar inside the hotel and sat down before the end of the first inning.

Beer in hand, baseball in front of me, and Chris being a jerk was long forgotten. By the middle of the fourth, I was getting hungry and headed over to the Burger Joint for another beer and a burger. I thought about going back into the casino after dinner, but all of the smoking (thank you smoke-free NY) was getting to me and my head was congested.

I figured I had turned things around enough that six or seven hours of fabulous single girl time in Vegas was good enough. I filled the bathroom with steam to clear my head, washed up as best I could without getting the bandage on my back wet and hunkered down for the rest of the game.

Vegas was fun and I can’t wait to go back, but I think next time I really will go with Bubbles.