We went to Vegas on vacation recently. Paul was there for work and, well, it seemed like it would be easy to join him for a week of sunshine and swimming.

We found a great condo and our accommodations were perfect. We had a kitchen, living area and big bedroom. We were upgraded to a corner unit on the 29^th floor with a view of the strip and the desert beyond. The morning after we arrived Josie and Paul headed down to the pool at 9:00 am. I could watch them playing near the lazy river from our room. It was 80 degrees. It was perfect.

Then I went to the pool.

First there was the walk to the pool lined with monitors advertising a Vegas show that involved the shaking of bare butts. Please, could you make sure the hallway content is rated G? Then, we got to the pool and starting at 9:00 am every morning they play LOUD music. I mean so loud that I couldn’t read.

And, no, they could not/would not turn it down for the pasty white lady reading her New Yorker in the shade.

Then at about noon the 20-something’s descended on the lazy river. The pool bar sold fruity, boozy concoctions in gigantic plastic containers. I can’t call them cups because they were so much more than that. They were like 18 inches long, shaped like barbells and outfitted with long straws and lanyards so that you could wear your vodka slurpee around your neck. That way, if you’re too drunk to lift your glass you can still manage to get the super-long straw into your mouth. Awesome.

There was a guy in our hallway who was so drunk at 3:00 in the afternoon that he couldn’t get his zipper up. He stumbled over himself apologizing while Josie stared at him wide-eyed. I’m sure that was one of his proudest moments.

OMG, Vegas? What was I thinking?

We did eventually find one pool that didn’t have loud music and I did eventually get some reading time while Paul kept our girl from drowning in the pool. She, by the time we left, was swimming and breathing on her own and diving to the bottom to retrieve toys. I think she gained 5 pounds of muscle that week. Think of what she’ll be able to do when she reaches the ripe old age of FOUR. I look forward to watching her swim laps from the quiet shade of a palm tree somewhere other than Las Vegas.

PS – I intended to write a quick intro to this article I read, about kids and food allergies, but it looks like I’ve lost my way. That’s how it goes some days. I guess you’ll have to check back next time to hear about the important stuff.