Las Vegas: Days 1-2.5

We have come to Las Vegas for the SEG (Society of E [engineering, eclectic, energetic?] Geophysicists) Conference. I know, you are thinking, "How fun, you lucky ducks!" Well, let me aggravate your jealousy by telling you how we spent day 1:

We spent the morning shuffling our various pets to various pet-sitters and then drove with Alisa (another Master's student from Roo's program. She likes yoga and talks mostly about rock climbing, and when I met her for the first time that day, she was illegally climbing over a high fence at a closed car shop around 1700 South in Salt Lake where we picked her up.)  

We arrived in Las Vegas around 6 pm and checked into the armpit of Las Vegas where we would be staying: The Excalibur. I couldn't have asked for a more authentic campy, kitschy, white-trash haven! The lobby is dank with cheap cigarette smoke, the carpet dates from the Nixon administration, and there are live strippers on the casino floor. After walking past said stripper a few times (due to the fact that our keys did not work once we reached our room) we decided that this had been the least holy Sabbath in a while. After we heard on the news that there were protesters outside all the temples in California, I hunkered down in bed with the blaring lights of the Excalibur sign outside our window and waited for the world to end. 

Day 2: Since the world did not end, we decided to head to the Round Table Buffet for breakfast and afterwards vowed to never eat at the Round Table Buffet again. Since the conference is in the Mandalay Bay Hotel, we had to walk over a mile (seriously) through casinos and winding stairways and halls to get to the convention center. It is an excellent visual representation of social stratification: We begin with the proletariats of The Excalibur--buxom women in too-tight Minnie Mouse shirts and 3 foot tall margarita cups. From there you ascend into the bourgeoisie of the Luxor where the carpet is only a decade old. Then comes the Mandalay Bay--with its crystal chandeliers and marble floors--where the ruling class wears cuff links and makes reservations for dinner.

While Roo wandered around the convention, I wait outside in the plush chairs and work on my computer. I look thoroughly out of place--a 22 year old girl amid thousands of brilliant professors and businessmen from nearly every oil and resource company on earth. I like sticking out.

We took a break from the convention and drove what felt like two hours to get two miles down the Strip to the mall. I bought a lovely blue silk dress and yellow high heels to wear to our party that night. It was a private dinner with the big-wigs who sponsor Roo's professor. Again, I was definitely out of place, but the lasagna was good. 

While the rest of the group went out drinking, Roo and I stayed and heckled The Hills and the local news before watching the Pink Panther on our laptop while eating Swedish Fish.