Vegas

Remember that post about Rap music?  Well I need to tell the whole going to Vegas story about my friend Terri and I. 

It was a hot July night in the summer of 2000 and Terri and I were living at the Jolene Apartments in downtown Salt Lake City.  They were these great super cheap, but still really nice apartments.  So great and cheap that my old roommate Melissa and her husband Jared lived there, and Terri’s old roommate Julia and her husband Brandon lived there too.  We were all on the top floor and we would hang with them all like we were still roommates.  Weird I know.  But it was fun, and it was a fun place to live. 

On this particular summer night I think it was Terri who decided it would be fun to drive to Vegas, after all it was the 24th of July weekend, and we all know that in Utah that equals a holiday.  You know how it goes, you make a suggestion and then thing just take off from there.  I didn’t think we would really end up going because I had to work the next day and I was way too responsible to just take off late at night and drive to some place I have never been without a plan.  I am a planner.  I have to have all the details planned out and even then I try to find a reason not to go because it is way too far out of my comfort zone.  Amazingly enough Terri talked me into it.

We hurried and packed all of our stuff into Terri’s little white car, borrowed a bunch of CD’s from Julia, changed into our pajamas so the drive would be comfortable and headed out.  From the car I called my friend Dallin from work and told him that I was going to be “sick” the next day and to cover for me.  He owed me from a few weeks before when he did the exact same thing.  It was now 10:00 o’clock at night.

Vegas1 by you.

We stopped along the way at some 24 hour gas station to wash off our make up and so Terri could take out her contacts.  We grabbed a few snacks and were on our way again.

By around 3:00 AM we were coming up to a small little town in southern Utah named Leeds.  The music was blasting really loud to help keep us awake, but something didn’t sound right with the car.  We turned down the radio and could tell it was the tire.  Terri was able to pull us over right under an overpass.  Semis were whizzing past us, our cell phones didn’t get service, and it was really dark.  I knew we were going to have to walk over to the town and knock on someone’s door and ask for help.  “This sucks” we both said many times that night.  In order for us to get over to the town we had to climb up the really steep cement embankment of the overpass and then climb over the fence at the top. 

When I told Terri what had to be done she didn’t like it. 
“I will stay here with my car” she said.
“Over my dead body you will.  There is NO WAY I am walking over to strange people’s houses in the middle of the night and knocking on the doors alone.  Plus some scary truck driver could get you” I replied.

 I remember I was wearing red flip flops and I had to take them off and scurry up the embankment in my bare feet.  I made it to the top only to look back and see Terri still standing at the bottom. 
“Come on” I yelled.
“I can’t” she cried, “I am a town girl and I never climbed things like you country kids did growing up”.
I think at this point I might have shouted a few cuss words of encouragement at her.  She finally started to climb up only to get 1/4 of the way up and her shoe fell off.  Her really cute, really high sandal town girl shoe fell off.  I think a few tears might have been shed and she headed back down to get it.  The next attempt was in her bare feet as well. 

We made it over to the houses and tried to pick the most friendly looking, which is hard to do when you are a couple of 20-year old girls out wandering around at 3 o’clock in the morning.  The first house we knocked on, no one came to the door.  We walked past a few others and decided they looked scary before settling on a house that had a truck in the driveway which has a decal stating they were a volunteer firefighter.  This was our sign.  We rang the door bell and waited.  After about 10 minutes some nice, tired woman cracked the door open.  We told her what had happened and she said she would go get her husband.  He was out sleeping on the tramp with their kid.  

He came to the door in an understandably not very good mood.  We loaded in his truck and he changed our tire.  We found out that he was a member of the bishopric there in Leeds and that one of his mission companions was a distant relative of mine.  It was now past 4:00.  Once he found out that we didn’t have a place to stay for the night, that we were going to attempt to get a hotel room in a resort town on a huge holiday weekend, he insisted we stay at their house.  And we totally did.  Seriously, we slept at a total strangers house.  And in the morning his wife offered to make us pancakes. 

We got the tire fixed and had a great time for the rest of the trip.  We stayed in Beaver Dam Nevada with Terri’s aunt and uncle.  Played cards, stayed out of the crazy heat, and went into Vegas for one night. 

This tank top was the only thing I could afford at Caesar’s Palace.

Vegas2 by you.

Vegas3 by you.

A couple lingering questions I have about this photo:
1-Seriously, my bangs???
2-Why did I ever have my lipstick like that?
3-Why didn’t someone take my tweezers away?

Vegas4 by you.

This picture was taken as we drove into Vegas.  If you look close I’m sure you can see sweat on my forehead because Terri’s car didn’t have AC, and we didn’t want to ruin our hair so we only cracked the windows a little bit in the 120 degree weather.

Vegas5 by you.

This is the pirate we both thought was hot and had to have our picture taken with.

Vegas6 by you.

Vegas7 by you.

Um, I want my 20 year old skinny, tanned body back. 

Vegas8 by you.

Vegas9 by you.

Vegas10 by you.   

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