vegas baby, vegas!

To those of you wondering if my sparkly shoes – https://galainoregon.wordpress.com/2007/12/17/anyone-need-a-pair-of-silver-slippers/– ever walked the walk, let me update you. 

They did.  I wore them for a dinner at a Mexican restaurant.  They behaved admirably – they sparkled as I walked the 5 steps from the car to the restaurant, were admired for 2 minutes while we waited to be seated, and then spent a lovely evening peeking out from time to time from under the table.  

They were less amenable on New Year’s eve.  I wore them to dinner – it was a long walk from our hotel room to the restaurant, up the stairs and 4 times by the lobster buffet.  But we persevered. Until the dancing started.  That activity exposed the limits of my sparkly shoes.  It is a fatal limitation, seeing as that type of shoes really was made for the dance floor. But we were at the beach, dancing barefoot was appropriate and I forgave them.

Not so last week in Las Vegas, where the evening temperatures were well below freezing and the distance between one side of your hotel and the other is excruciatingly long.  It is even longer when you want to meet someone at the hotel next door, which is conveniently connected to yours via a bridge.  It’s an outdoor bridge, meant to afford you to glorious nighttime sights of Sin City in between bouts at the blackjack table (I didn’t do that – my Vegas experience was limited to a very good show and a lot of even better food).  I am sure it is glorious for some, but after walking a mile in the sparkles, teetering over the frozen bridge (literally – there were ice patches) and painfully climbing another set of stairs and another mile to the chic restaurant I was expected at – I couldn’t care less about the sights.  The pink champagne helped my recovery, but even Billecart-Salmon can’t undo the pain on my toes or of the realisation that I had to do that whole long walk again in order to get to my room and take these b%$#&y shoes off! Dead feet walking…

 

I had half a mind to leave the shoes in Las Vegas, a fitting burial ground for wasteful spending and gaudy baubles if ever there was one, but I brought them back and now they sit in my closet, reminders of my shoe folly, daring me to do it again.  I won’t . Just you watch! 

 

(I promise I’ll try)  

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