Vegas Baby

Apparently, McCall and I are still adjusting to the fact that a baby demands your complete and undivided attention at all times. We received an object lesson on this very point last Sunday when we tried to enjoy an overnight stay at the Palms Hotel and Casino in Las Vegas. "Why would you try to go to Vegas with a two month old baby?", you might ask. Perhaps I should back up a little bit.
McCall loves this show on A&E, Inked. Maybe you've seen it, it's all about the Hart & Huntington tattoo studio located inside the Palms. Anyway, one day we're sitting on the couch watching Inked and she turns to me and says, "I want to go to Hart & Huntington to get my henna design tattooed on my belly." "What henna design?", you might ask. Perhaps I should back up a little bit more.
Just prior to Harper's arrival, McCall had a friend come over and draw a mehndi pattern on her big pregger belly using henna ink. The henna stains your skin so when you wash it off it leaves a sort of temporary tattoo. McCall had then laid out in the sun to get a nice tan, but the mehndi didn't tan so even after the ink stain wore off, the pattern remained. You can still see it today.
So where were we? Oh yeah, "I want to go to Hart & Huntington to get my henna design tattooed on my belly." Naturally, I thought H&H the most obvious choice considering how devoid Los Angeles is of tattoo parlors (insert eye roll here). And instead of going to San Diego or something, it makes perfect sense to cross Death Valley for a shop popularized on national television. Yeah, I know it's only cable, but it's BASIC cable. Everybody gets it!
Long story slightly shorter, I got us a room at the Palms, we were upgraded to a full suite on the 31st floor (Happy Birthday, McCall!) which was good because we spent all but about three hours of our time in Vegas in the room dealing with a very fussy baby.
Things were hopeful at first. Harper was enthralled with the lights on the casino floor as we headed from the parking garage to the bell desk. After checking in, we were even able to pop into H&H and inquire about the tattoo. After a brief conversation with the receptionist we were told to come back around 8pm to see if they could squeeze us in that night. McCall also informed me of the estimate.
"Three to four", she said.
"Hundred?", I asked.
"Yes."
"Dollars?"
"Yes."
"American?"
"Yes."
"Wow!"
"What do we do?"
"Come back at 8pm, I guess."
Up to the room to drop off our bags. I love being in tall buildings and I love being as high up in them as possible, so the 31st floor was right up my alley. This affinity may have been instilled in me by my father, an avid world traveller. I flew with my parents to Europe once to visit my brother who was in Hungary on a college missions trip. We landed in Frankfurt, Germany (a beautiful city in pictures) and arrived at our hotel. The first thing my dad did was go to the window, whip open the curtains, and check the view.
"What a view!", he exclaimed. "This is tremendous. Spectacular!" He went on and on about the view and then suddenly stopped. His whole demeanor changed. "Kyle, come here and look at this."
I wandered over to the window fighting jet lag with every step. I looked out and saw the building across the street. Red lights shone from every window. At 15, I wasn't entirely sure what the lights meant. But the sign on the building left no doubt. "Non Stop Sex!" I turned from the window and said, "I bet they stop for lunch." My dad didn't laugh. In fact he didn't really acknowledge my assesment at all. But to this day, I still think it's the funniest thing I've ever said in Frankfurt.
Looking out the window of our corner suite was something like that day in Germany so long ago. See, the Palms isn't on the Strip, it's a couple blocks away, so one side had a terrific view of the back of the Bellagio while the other overlooked squatty cut rate motels and warehouses, all seemingly begging for mercy from the unyielding heat beating down.
After settling in a bit, we decided we should try to rustle up some dinner before heading back to H&H again. Upon checking in, we had received a 20% off coupon for one of the restaurants in the hotel, Little Buddha. We went down to check it out with McCall carrying Harper in a sling. We kind of knew a sit down dinner wasn't going to work so we sat at the bar and ordered our food to go. Harper promptly made her opinion of Buddhist philosophy known by errupting in a fit tears. Luckily, we had had the foresight to bring a bottle. Harper then made her opinion of being fed know by promptly shutting up and sucking it down like an afternoon alcoholic.
Unfortunately, the food took longer than Harper did and it was back to crying. McCall hastily hauled Harper out into the casino area while I awaited the rest of our order. Back up in the room we both raved over our meals. Little Buddha received two big thumbs up from us and one tiny thumbs down from Harper. Not that the suite seemed to please her much better. It was obvious that all excursions beyond the four walls of the room were right out, so we ordered a movie on the hotel TV and took turns soothing Harper for the next two hours. We watched Hard Candy. I had to miss a couple of bits here and there while dealing with the little, but I think I got the gist. It's about a 14 year old girl who aspires to be a surgeon while searching for love online. Thumbs up!
Right about the time we were supposed to be back down at Hart & Huntington, McCall fell asleep. About 20 minutes later so did Harper. We had requested a crib from the Palms so we could have the bed to ourselves in case some amor broke out. None did.
The next morning the alarm went off at 5am, then again at 7am. Each time we would feed and change it and try to get a little more sleep. Finally, at 9am we knew we were up for good. McCall wanted to lay out by the pool so I called to see if we could get a late check out time (official "Don't Let the Door Hit You Where the Good Lord Split You" time is 11am at the Palms). I was hoping for a 1pm check out. Not today, I was told. We're totally sold out this evening. Perfect.
By 10:45am, after rushing to get everything packed up while constantly dealing with baby, we're in line at H&H. They open at 11am and already there's at least 10 people ahead of us. Not everybody's getting tattooed, about half the people are moral support like me, but it doesn't look good for us. I don't want to be here another 12 hours wating for a tattoo! McCall, already upset at not being able to lay by the pool (we didn't even get to see it besides the sliver of view we had from the room!), decides she's going to scrounge up some breakfast. This leaves me standing in line with Haper in a Baby Bjorn strapped to my chest like a timebomb. One that I know, sooner or later, is going explode. I get lucky. Harper gets a little fussy, but not bad. The people in line are totally cool about it and try to help keep her calm. I tell them she's getting her first tattoo. A portrait of my face on her back.
McCall returns with McDonalds and we finally get into the shop again. Now they're telling us the tat will run closer to $600 or $700. I can't believe it. In addition, the best artist to do a henna piece won't be in until 6pm and the woman directly in front of us just requested him specifically to do a portrait (Ironically enough, of my face on her back. Weird.). It's a very time consuming piece so it would be closer to 10pm before we could even think about getting started. The stars are not aligning, God is not smiling on us in this moment. It's not meant to be. But for McCall, it's hard to accept. She'd been looking forward to this for weeks and now it's all falling apart. In addition, we haven't been able to eat in the restaurant, haven't hit any of the tables, haven't been to the pool. Nothing. We basically drove four hours to stay overnight in air conditioning and were about to drive another four hours back to our sweltering apartment.
This was when it became clear...no clearER...no EVEN clearer...no even MORE clearer (if you'll excuse the breech in grammar for effect) that our lives are not about us anymore. We now have our own little buddha who needs us to drop whatever we want, desire, or plan to do in order to take care of her. This takes adjusting and we're still in the process, but honestly, I wouldn't want it any other way.