My parents were looking at trips around Canyonlands, and taking a coach to the places they wanted to visit was going to make a substantial dent in my inheritance. Why not pay for me to be their tour guide, I selflessly suggested, and I'll even let them babysit their grandson when I go out every night!? Understandably, they took the deal.
So Pete and I left Hannah behind - weeping as she contemplated no one nagging her to come home from work, a king size bed to herself, and a weekend at a Korean spa - and jumped on a plane to Sin City. I'm looking forward to Pete's class receiving his postcard from here.
On a day with numerous moving parts I'm genuinely amazed that my parents, a three-year-old, a hire car, and hotel rooms all ended up in vaguely the same place. I'm off to Caesar's Palace now to see if my luck will last. Ha! As if luck were even a factor in my infallible system...
What nutritious, sustaining breakfast should us travelers fuel up with this morning, Pete?
Five hours of sugar-rush later we're here, although photography suffers when simultaneously handling luggage and toddler.
I eased Pete gently into the gambling lifestyle with a trip to Planet Hollywood, one of the more family-friendly vice dens.
And we took in a show, of course. One with performing rescue animals! It was...alright.
Someone warned the supermarket that the pasty Brits were on the way.
International arrivals. Quiet, which left me nervous.
But they arrived!
Obligatory massive hire car. It's comparable to our Fiesta, in the sense that "five times bigger" is a comparison. But I'm a DC driver now so watch out Nevada!
