Cold Drinks, Warm Lovin'

We wake up around 8:30 and have Starbucks for breakfast (for the record, we’re not fans, but the stay in the hotel came with a ten dollar gift cert, and far be it from us not to take advantage). We gamble over at Camelot, then back at New York, New York, and—miracle of miracles—I’m up about ten bucks for the day. Sarah’s arranged for a super-cheap rental car so we can hit two outlet malls nearby (but not walking-distance nearby.) Before the shopping starts, we stop into the legendary In and Out Burger, having heard many sing the praises of this joint. They’ve got an old school menu that I’m sure hasn’t changed since 1956. We’d also heard that they have scripture quotes printed on their wrappers. Sadly, we’re disappointed in about four different ways. Way One: the fries are ass (about which we’d been warned, but still—bleeeech); Way Two: it’s rammed-jammed with people and service is hella slow; Way Three: the burgers are just okay, really nothing special; Way Four: no side of scripture is to be found alongside our burgers (either the chain has stopped doing that, or they only whip out the bible verse in certain super God-y towns.

Fleeing the letdown that is In and Out, we drive to Las Vegas Premium Outlets, where we shop till I drop (twenty minutes in). Sarah’s big scores are two leather belts for six bucks, and a pair of boots for eight. I get jeans, golf shirts, and a new pair of Dave Shoes—all at a nice discount thanks to Sarah’s coupons from the internets. I also discover a huge stick up my butt, having plunged into an awful mood for no good reason, so I have some alone time catching up on trip notes while Sarah makes Ann Taylor her bitch. Next, we drive to Las Vegas Outlets, which for you GTA folks, is this city’s version of Dixie Value Mall. Sarah finds no love there, but I make off like a bandit at Perry Ellis

Back at the hotel, we rest our shop-weary legs. Sarah’s had a burning throat all day, so she checks out her tonsils with a flashlight and discovers a horrible stalactite of pus in the back of her throat (not to mention general nastiness all over her tonsils). It appears that the strep she had in January not only defeated the first round of antibiotics, but has morphed into a more-powerful throat/sinus infection. After some debate, we agree that we should bite the bullet and visit the doctor, rather than have Sarah’s next five days become increasingly miserable. Fortunately, we still have the car, so we drive to a nearby urgent care facility (America’s version of the walk-in clinic). Sarah gives her info, enquires about cost (not as expensive as we feared), and gets called in pretty quickly. I use the hour of down time to catch up on Vegas posts, while listening to CNN’s excessive Anna Nicole coverage on the waiting room television. Sarah scores a prescription for a mightier dose of penicillin, and we spend some time in Walgreens waiting for the pharmacist to take the pills out of the really big bottle and place them into the really small bottle (elapsed time: 30 minutes). It’s worth it though, because we get to peruse a nearby shelf of contraceptives, of particular interest—lube brand names. The top three: Probe, Joe Lube (José Lube en español), and Warm Lovin’.

Back at the casino, we have dinner at the Broadway Grill, which is a little, tiny, nothing food court place that kicks In and Outs ass. Then we gamble over at Camelot and gambol back home again. For the second day in a row, and despite an ugly throat sickness, Sarah breaks even. I continue to be a money gobbling black hole.