We're leaving tomorrow for a quick trip to the City of Lost Wages. Neither of us are gamblers, so we're going to hit some great shops and see some shows. And this time, I am wearing better shoes as not to wish for amputation somewhere on The Strip like the last time I was there.

The first time I was in Vegas, my mom took me for my 21st birthday. This is somewhat symbolic as the woman was pretty religious, and although had evening cocktails at times, she was on my ass for years about not drinking, not smoking, not looking at things I shouldn't be looking at, and certainly, gambling your hard earned money away in Sin City. Okay, well, maybe not the latter, but still ...

My mother insisted Las Vegas was something I needed to experience. Instead of sending the birthday girl and her best friend into Sin City alone, she herself, invited my very hip grandmother (truly, no sarcasm there - she's awesome!), my best friend at the time and her mom. My best friend was recently married, and her husband had a shit fit knowing we were going to Las Vegas. Never mind that we couldn't have been with a more docile crowd had we got on a tour bus full of Baptist Missionaries. I mean, come on.

The five of us boarded a plane, Mom ordered me a really awful glass of wine as my 'first drink' (riiiiiiiiiiight ... hello, Sloegin and Dr. Pepper, anyone? Tasted like asshole, if I knew what asshole tasted like, that is) ... and we landed in Vegas a short time later.

I remember a few things about this trip:

1. Being 21 and wishing to God All Mighty that my mother wasn't on this trip, never mind she was paying for the thing. She hovered over me, insisting I drink, and there is never a more awkward moment that having a parent for 20 years telling you that drinking is bad, and suddenly, standing next to you insisting you have everything on the menu. I didn't drink but a few things on the trip. It sucked.

2. I lost all my money gambling. My girlfriend won everything.

3. My grandmother sat down on a bench one evening, and it happened to be right under the neon sign that said, "Girls of Glitter Gulch" and an arrow pointing straight to her. I have that picture somewhere. Classic, totally. Sadly, I can't find that picture -- so here's one of me and my girlfriend, posing for the camera:

4. My mother also insisted that we know what a late-night female revue was like. So, again, I sat in the crowd, looking at naked women with the business all out there with my mother (remember, folks, this is the same woman who wouldn't let me watch Doogie Howser because it was the 'decline of children's television'). Hard to switch gears, you know.