Here one's inner and outer nerds wish to join forces and present a Google map showing the location of the downtown station and my home, so you can really appreciate the ow-ness of the aches and pains that came with this flu, but then I'd get sidetracked into showing old postcards of how the current Plaza casino is the former Union Plaza aka the former train station, and then I'd show some photos of the historic train down there, and then this would become one of those high-quality culturally rich posts and not me just going on about taking three sick days.
Can you believe I have now taken three sick days and no vacuuming is done? Or World of Warcraft leveling? Stupid actually-sick-on-sick-days. The aches are gone, my nose is just stuffy, and I can swallow okay, but fever comes and goes every day and, golly, the fatigue. Goodness. This is no time to be without a quilted bedjackets or a nightstand on which a ceramic vase of cheery flowers should sit.
(I have two lovely oak nightstands, thank you Mom and Dad. Except a press gang led by the sofa currently has them doing service as endtables. I am trying to imagine a day when I have both nightstands and endtables, but I think that is the same day I sit in my own backyard, covered with bunnies and chickens, and trying to remember who was in my fifth period Honors class thirty years ago.)
Okay, now I'm tired, and it has only been about ten minutes. Because it's a stupid flu. And now I'm standing in the middle of the post trying to remember why I came here.
Oh yeah. The usual diary stuff.
So, in the 24 hours before getting sick, Mike and I had great fun. We clipped the 2-for-1 Station buffet coupon from the paper and headed to Sunset. The meal was delicious; they've really upped the quality. I especially loved the roasted garlic and the three-cheese ravioli. (And the salsa bar so I could dump raw onions on everything. Maybe no one should trust my restaurant reviews? I love onions so much.) We both mixed lemon sorbet with mint chocolate chip ice cream for dessert.
We each had free slot play, and the Star Trek slots were available. Cheer! These are not just slot-slots. These are the kind with the special comfy seats attached, the ones that vibrate and blast music from the headrest. These are gamer-geek slots.
Oh, and the ST slot is especially nice because every once in awhile it just randomly dumps money on you. You're not even spinning, and suddenly you're having a "warp win." We played for five minutes and it happened three times.
And that's how our meal at Sunset was paid for, plus extra. If you've been keeping score, if I've been bothering to report, just about every meal we've eaten at a casino for the past month has been paid for by idle slot play afterward. (The exception is the brunch at Gandhi.) I wonder if I can become a fan of "Dumb Luck" on Facebook?
The next morning we were up early. I staggered into the bathroom, not sure if it was a work day or not, thinking I'd let my brain work on it and I'd probably know by the time I was done brushing my teeth. So, I finish, having worked out that it's Saturday. Hooray! Back to bed. I open the door, and Mike's standing there, expectantly. He looks at me, confused. I look at him, confused. He is still looking confused. I look inquisitive. He looks... still confused. We'd grunt out some greetings, but we're both way too groggy for Caveman speech. I start to move past him. He manages a few words: "What day is it?"
Like me just minutes before, he really can't work it out. I tell him. His face melts in relief, and we stand there, hugging and hugging, so happy that it's Saturday. We're free! We're free!
We're also awake, and everyone by now should know what we do when it's Saturday and 7 a.m. Yes, we head to the Paris breakfast buffet.
Paris is unique for not doing brunch on Saturdays. Also, it's the best breakfast buffet in town. It just is. They've changed the glassware in the past year, so now you do juice-shots and hopefully ordered a water chaser, and the Brittany-themed cake is now just coffee cake, but otherwise it's just a wonderful buffet. Terrific eggs, terrific bread, everything fresh and lovely. (The Lyonnaise potatoes were a little meh on the last visit, though.)
After Paris, we drove around the South Strip. I decided to finally take a picture of the
(Here I just pooped out after all. The flu - it is not the worst flu, but perhaps the stupidest. Also, now I want some potatoes. Yep, that will pep me right up.)
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