12. Vegas
I've never won anything at games. As a child, I remember waiting for the results of the school raffle, looking forward to it, listening to the names being scratched. And the disappointment at the last batch, to leave empty-handed. The injustice of seeing that some who had not even waited for the results were going to be contacted by phone. And I got nothing. As if the patience of waiting was worth a consolation prize. As if chance cared about my little person.
Like everyone else, I've played the lottery. But I only play when the jackpot is over 50 million euros. Below, I don't think it's worth it. Yeah, we take the risk of earning an incredible amount of money, so it really has to be enough to completely change our lives. You only win once, so I don't want to end up with a miserable million and the same life as before. With 50 million, we are starting to talk about a radical change. Well, I never won anything in the lottery either. We see more and more often sums above 50 million, but they have added 2 stars, so the chances of winning are even lower, and inevitably the jackpot is less often hit. It smells like a fool's trap. So I stopped playing.
We haven't put a single dollar into the slot machines. Instead, we spent a lot of money at the factory stores, filled a suitcase with jeans and shoes. We assaulted the Bellagio's buffet, flew over the city in a helicopter. We have $51 and 48 cents left all in all. And no time to play, we have a flight this morning at 10:06.
From the window of our suite on the 42nd floor of the Hotel Vdara, I enjoy one last time the plunging view of the Bellagio fountains, the Eiffel Tower of the Paris Paris, the traffic on the highway, the Trump Tower in the distance. The suitcases are packed, all we have to do is take one last look around to make sure we don't forget anything. We reach the orange Mustang convertible which made us noticed when we were driving up the Strip. A little pinch in the heart when we drop it off at the agency. The shuttle takes us to the airport, we are almost two hours early for boarding.
What, you can't find our registration desk? Let's check the board. What do you mean, our flight is cancelled? Let's go see the company counter, give me a second to look. Hey, wait for me!
Is it this way, are you sure? Yeah, well, all right. That's where a whole bunch of people are crowding in. I have a feeling it's going to be a long time. Indeed, we spend almost three quarters of an hour waiting without the line moving forward. Listening to people talking to each other, I understand that the plane has suffered some damage and that it will not take off. It also appears that they divert passengers to Houston and then connect them to New York. It doesn't suit us very well, because New York is our connection to Amsterdam, and in Amsterdam we still have a flight to Lyon. There is no way we can add a fourth airport. When it is finally our turn, I state our case to the overworked employee who calmly explains to us what we already knew. I remain calm and try to make him understand that we will have to find another solution. He types on his keyboard and scans his screen for long minutes. Finally, a concrete proposal. We take the 5:26 flight to Chicago, land in London, and from there London - Lyon and it's fine. Back home. Pfff....
There's not much to do at an airport for a whole day. We pass the time as best we can. A can of Coke is $4, so we avoid thinking too much about thirst. Fortunately, we got coupons for a meal and we can have our umpteenth burger fries, and clearly not the best. The seats look very comfortable, but after two hours on our buttocks, any chair becomes uncomfortable. We look at the clock. It's 4:20. Our check-in counter is still deserted, but since we can't keep in place, we are on the lookout. And that's just it, an employee is moving in. I go to the information desk, if only to find out when we can get rid of our luggage.
Good surprise, he can register us right away. I hand him our boarding passes. His long silence and grin in the pale light of his monitor indicate to me that something is wrong. Then comes the sentence. This flight is overbooked. It was so, even before we were redirected to it. There are actually 20 extra passengers who will not take off, and we are at the very bottom of the waiting list. But don't worry, he'll find a solution for us.
I see you from the corner of my eye moving away from the counter. I follow you. You turn your back on me. You're crying. I hug you. "I'm sick of it, I want to go home." Powerlessness overwhelms my heart. The two of us hugging in the middle of the terminal and people passing by. I can't think of anything else to say to you, except in a breath in your ear, "I know." An eternity passes.
One deep breath, we go back to the counter. The gentleman is very sorry for us. He'll find us a solution. We're going to start all over again. We're going to take exactly what was planned for today, but tomorrow. Takeoff at 10:06 am, transfer to JFK and landing the next day in Lyon. If it's okay with us, he'll make us vouchers for the taxi, the hotel and the meal, and everything is fine.
We look at each other with a doubtful look. You ask which hotel. El Cortes. I check it out, it's in the middle of downtown. If there's no way to sleep because of the noise, we'll get crazy banging our heads on the walls. Then you draw your MGM loyalty card. Could we use your points to get a night at the Vdara? He studies your proposal, takes your references and picks up his phone. You wink at me. "I didn't work like a dog for a year spinning my wheel on the internet." I can testify that you spent all your evenings clicking on stupid games to accumulate loyalty points. I find it incredible that you can change this completely virtual occupation into something concrete. I think I am dreaming when after ten minutes the gentleman hangs up his phone and tells us that everything is settled. And we leave the airport with a pile of small papers covered with barcodes that guarantee us transport, food, night, and especially the return flight.
In the taxi, I hesitate between euphoria and weariness. Finally, fatigue prevails as we queue once again at the hotel reception desk. Even more so when we discover the small room on the sixth floor with its unique window overlooking the pool. Sitting heavily on the corner of the bed, I understand that I am too upset to sleep. The prospect of dining in a pre-selected establishment and forcing myself to eat the homemade French fry burger before I come to lie down here and get some sleep does not attract me at all. I only have to cross your eyes to know that you feel the same way, and I have only one word to say before you take out the vouchers and tear them into confetti.
"You're crazy, we have 46 bucks left. Do you think we're gonna find a nice place and spend an evening with so little?
- Let me handle it. Let me do this. Call our parents, while I'm looking for information on my phone.
- I'm warning you, there's no way we're bursting our credit card. We're in the red on all our accounts, there's no way.
- Don't worry, I got it covered."
I take it upon myself to record a video message for my parents and yours, explaining our misadventure and promising to return as soon as possible. When I'm done, you announce me with a radiant smile:
"Honey, put on your best shirt, we're going out in Vegas."
I feel a little hesitant when, as soon as we leave the hotel, we descend a discreet staircase that leads us to a sidewalk bordered by bare walls. We pass a fire station and go a little further into the overheated entrance of what looks like a parking lot. I have serious doubts, the atmosphere is suffocating, but you walk with a confident step. And suddenly, we pass through large golden doors that a bellboy holds open while greeting us as we pass, and we end up in a large black marble hall. Welcome to the Cosmopolitan. I'm speechless. It takes me a moment to understand the arrangement of the fake library with its books projected on the walls and columns. It looks like the negative counterpart of Bellagio and its white marble. Luxury, in a sophisticated version. I also struggle to find the words to express my reaction under the gigantic two-storey pearl chandelier as we climb the escalators to the top level of the gallery. You seem to be looking for something. You suddenly turn back, stop for no apparent reason. Suddenly, you notice a discreet corner next to a restaurant and enter a corridor with a simple decoration, whose white colour contrasts with the dark sophistication of the gallery. At the end, incredibly, a pizza counter. Secret pizza. A slice of pizza and a drink each, all for just over $16.
I congratulate you on this incredible find as we eat on a high table in the corner. And all the worries of the day seem forgotten.
After walking through the casino, we leave the Cosmo, join the Strip and stroll for a long time, arm in arm, to Treasure Island. We get there just in time for the show. The water jets and light give the illusion of an erupting volcano, flames rise to the rhythm of rumbling and music.
Then you take my hand and take me to the Caesar Palace shopping mall. I feel a little impressed by the spiral escalator that offers us a spectacular view of the huge entrance hall. But at the beginning of the long inner avenue, it's a completely different atmosphere. The painted sky and the small squares decorated with fountains would almost give the atmosphere of a small Italian village, apart from the luxury shops that line the central artery. I'm shocked when I look at the prices. A little handbag for $600. Coats cost more than the minimum wage. Obviously, there are no crowds of customers. I find it hard to feel at home, but when I look closely, I realize that onlookers are all dressed as tourists. A kind of zoo with rich people instead of animals. The idea makes me laugh and helps me relax. I enjoy the ride.
And at the very end, a large food court and prominently in the center, a Cheesecake Factory. Huge pastries, so many flavours that it takes us 5 minutes to make our choice. It turns out, I had a big place left for dessert, but now our calorie counter is going to go through the roof. You insist on taking to go. I've seen enough tonight to know that you have your reasons.
From the shopping mall, we reach the Caesar casino, then the hotel lobby, and finally the Strip, just at the Bellagio fountains. We are looking for a place to settle along the low wall next to the artificial lake. It's crowded, but we manage to make room and unpack our delicious dessert. We just attacked these delicious sweets when the music starts.
I immediately recognize the first chords of Billie Jean. The choice strikes me as incongruous, but I quickly let myself be absorbed by the choreography of the fountains, like funky naiads waving on the groove of the king of pop. I put my hand on your shoulder, we don't say a word during the whole show. When the music ends, we applaud warmly and agree to wait for the next show. Cheesecake tasting keeps us busy during the interval. This time, Celine Dion is in charge of the music. We who are not really fans, we take performance to the second degree. My heart will go on and oooooooooon. We laugh heartily.
But you can't repress a yawn and I can see that you're starting to fall out of fatigue. I kiss you to thank you for this beautiful evening and take you by the arm to the entrance of the Bellagio. We no longer have the strength to marvel. We walk through the hall with a heavy step, without paying attention to the multicoloured ceiling and the indoor garden.
At that moment, my eyes cross the lights of the casino. I turn away and approach the slot machines. The jackpot is at $423 million. I put my hand in my pocket. I have a few coins and a note left, all just under $8. I take out a quarter and move on to a one-armed bandit. I've never won anything at games. Now is the time. If there is karma, if life is something other than a series of accidents, if the universe has meaning, I have my destiny at my fingertips. With 423 million, we can change our lives. "What are you doing? I'm exhausted, can we go home?" Would you look better in Gucci? Would we be happier?
- Oh, nothing. I was just thinking we haven't put a dollar in the slot machines.
- Ah, do you miss it?
- Definitely not. Come on, let's go to bed."
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