Las Vegas

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LAS VEGAS

It was in the 1980’s, and my first time in Las Vegas, which was a second year anniversary present from my husband.


It was an entirely new experience for me and I reveled in the excitement.


The star studded billboards were amazing. Huge Hotels were out of a storybook with fountains lit up in glorious colors in front, enormous casinos and more famous restaurants than I could count.

The real gift though was getting to see my favorite performer, Paul Anka, in person who was appearing at the Caesar’s hotel.

I dressed in my best black dress, pulled my hair up into a twist and looked at the mirror admiring myself. With my French knot, I looked at least a little older than twenty-two.

We had dinner at a big table set up in a Benihana Restaurant with about ten people. The man on my right was mumbling all sorts of profanities and I couldn’t help overhearing him.

“Are you okay?” I asked

“I can’t go home. I just lost my business and my home on the blackjack table.”

“Wow!” How does something like that happen?

After dinner, we left for the Caesar’s Hotel. We had lots of time to kill, so my husband, who is an avid gambler wanted to play.

He asked me to walk around and watch the other players. That meant so I wouldn’t bother him while he was playing.

I wandered around the casino and, with the money, my husband put in my hand as a bribe to get lost, climbed up on one of the stools at the blackjack table.

I wasn’t there for more than five minutes, when the dealer leaned over and whispered to me. “I think you’d better leave.”

“Why? I just got here!

“Don’t make me call the Pit Boss, Barbara.”

“My name is Marie, it isn’t Barbara.”

The Pit Boss came around to my side of the table. I knew I was in trouble. “Didn’t you cause enough trouble last night? I told you never to come back!”

“What are you talking about? This is my first time here. See, my husband is over there playing at another table.”

“Barbara,” as the Pit Boss insisted on calling me, “we don’t allow hookers on the tables."

With that remark, two Sumo-looking wrestlers grabbed me by my elbows and led me out the front door while I was screaming for help to the deaf ears of my husband. I was never so confused or embarrassed in my life.

Hubby finally heard me and ran to my rescue.

“What the hell is going on?” he asked.

“She knows!" It was the Pit Boss again. "She caused a rumpus in here last night and I said she wasn’t to come back.”

“They evidently mistook me for a hooker who had caused them a lot of problems last night,” I explained to my hubby.”

On the way home on the airplane, my husband looked at me and said. “I shoulda, coulda, woulda sued and owned a piece of Caesar’s Palace for what they put you through.”

“Too late now,” I said. At least I got to sneak back in and got to see the show. It was fantastic!”

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