Las Vegas Part 1

So Shelbi and I went to Vegas last weekend in what was the first time for each of us. But, probably more momentous, was the fact that we were leaving Elliott for more than just one night for the first time. It was a strange and somewhat worrisome feeling knowing that we weren't going to see our boy for three entire days. I figured that the weekend was going to be a lot like what happens when there is a power outage. For the first hour or two you still instinctively switch on a light switch every time you walk into a room and are surprised for a split second before realizing that you're an idiot. I thought it'd be like that without Elliott. "Well, if we're going to go to the pool we'll have to do it after 1:00 because Elliott will be napping... Oh... I'm an idiot."

But, actually, that didn't happen much at all. If anything, the experience was a bit overwhelming due to the sheer amount of freedom we had. "We... we could stay up until 3 a.m. if we wanted to! We can go anywhere we want and, if we forget to bring a string cheese or a graham cracker with us it wouldn't be a complete disaster!" 

Probably the hardest part of the entire process was actually preparing Elliott for a long weekend with Shelbi's parents. Shelbi and I have a tendency to over-prepare for things like this. This was evidenced in our first March Madness trip with Elliott in which it probably would have been more practical to simply throw the contents of our house into a huge U-Haul instead of pushing my Camry to obscene limits. This time around, Shelbi and I deliberately packed as lightly as possible, taking just one carry-on and no checked luggage to Vegas... And there was still no more than a few square inches of space in my car when we drove to drop Elliott off at Grandma and Grandpa's due to all of his essentials. 

The strangest of these essentials was the hand-written note we had to leave which gave Shelbi's parents the right to make any and all medical decisions for Elliott over the weekend. I remember my mom filling these out for me when I was spending a week with a friend or my grandparents. It's a standard formality but, at the same time, I always had the miniscule fear in the back of my head that my friend's parents might take me in for a reverse circumcision and there would be nothing I could do about it.

The packing experience was relatively traumatic but that had nothing to do with Elliott. With our flight leaving at 1 p.m. on Thursday we were determined to have as low-key of a morning as possible. We wanted to be completely packed and ready to go when we woke up. At around 8 p.m. we were well on our way. Elliott was asleep and most of his stuff as well as ours was neatly organized on our couch. Then, from the other room, I heard Shelbi ask: "Have you seen my license and debit card?" Now, in some households, that can be a jarring and even frightening question. In ours, it provokes the same reaction as the question: "What time is it?" 

Shelbi 'loses' her keys and/or her debit card at least half a dozen times per day. And when Shelbi asks this question I always slowly get out of my chair and first check to see if A. she is holding onto them or B. they are literally hanging from a piece of string directly in front of her face. If none of these are the case, I usually check our bookshelf, our computer desk or a pair of pants she was wearing and the item is usually found in no more than 30 seconds. 

I checked those usual locations and came up empty. I asked Shelbi what she was wearing when she last had her cards. She pointed to a pair of jeans that were now sitting in Elliott's Pack and Play. They weren't there. I looked throughout the entire house for the next 30 minutes without any luck. After more than an hour of searching, Shelbi has resorted to checking things like the freezer and inside the piano. At this point I stated, for the record: "I still think the most likely thing is that they're in a pocket of yours somewhere. Are you sure you didn't wear anything else with pockets to Rite-Aid?" 

She claimed she had not. So, from 10 p.m. to 1 a.m. I did things like, search through our garbage full of coffee grounds and unmentionables twice and drove to Rite-Aid where I asked the half-comatose cashier if anyone had left a debit card and license a few hours ago. Her response was to look at me blankly for 5 seconds and then slowly open one drawer in front of her. She looked down, without moving anything, and looked back up at me. "Nope." I wasn't entirely satisfied by the search but the night security guard at Rite-Aid always looks like he has been waiting his entire life for someone to raise his voice at a cashier so that he can finally utilize his club and pepper spray.

I returned home to no avail and we tore the house apart from room to room once again. To make matters worse, the website for Shelbi's bank was down for maintenance that evening until 3 a.m. so there was no way for us to tell if the card had been stolen. At around 1 a.m. Elliott woke up and, instead of simply rocking him back to sleep, we let him come out to the living room with us, handed him my credit card and asked: "Elliott, do you know where mommy's cards are? Did you take them? Can you find them for us?" That was probably the low point. We spent the next hour finding Shelbi's passport to use for ID on the plane. She was finally able to log on to her bank account and see that no new activity had happened and so she planned on heading to the bank at 9 a.m. to see if she could get an emergency replacement card.

We went to be a little after 3 a.m. and, perhaps the most disturbing part of this entire scenario was the fact that both of us woke up, without the aid of an alarm clock, at 6:30 a.m. This kid has made it impossible to sleep in for the rest of our lives. I did a quick search through the house with the aid of the light of day, Shelbi took her shower. I then went into our bedroom and was searching through a clothes hamper to find a pair of my pants. Near the bottom of the hamper I found a pair of Shelbi's jeans that looked eerily similar to the ones she claimed to have worn to Rite-Aid the previous evening. Sure enough, there were all of her cards... in a pocket. I walked into the bathroom and showed her the debit card. The ultimate revenge would have been to never tell her where I found it. But, at the same time, I also wanted her to know that I had been right. I think, ultimately, that was more satisfying. 

There will be more about Las Vegas itself in the near future...

Posted by Matthew Sherman at 6/28/2010 5:07 PM
Categories: uncategorized

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