We started our Friday in Vegas at the Venetian as many do (apparently) - a little morning at the gym. I used some knowledge from my personal trainer to build a workout (including a whole host of equipment), but then Alisa and I just hung out and stretched in the sitting area of our room when we interrupted the cleaning staff.
It was my job, as Alisa showered, to pick where we were going to brunch. Given that it was a Friday, we had slightly fewer options, but Giada's, at the Cromwell Hotel, did a Friday brunch with mimosas. (And the menu looked good too.)
We took a taxi there - only four blocks away, but the blocks are deceptively long in Vegas, and we were hungry! (Not optimal, because we had to take two lefts to get there, but our feet didn't hurt at all!)
We waited a few minutes in their small foyer with Giada's books on display (she's a Food Network star, known for her Italian). We got a flatbread pizza (and mimosas) and a savory and a sweet dish to split... and then I saw the "build your own brownie" and got a second dessert.
While we were enjoying our meal, we happened to overhear our neighbors talking about their day(s) in Vegas, and we started engaging them to hear their stories. They were on their regular anniversary trip, taking in the food and the sights (and not a lot of gambling). Yes, they were enjoying the food as much as we were. No, they were probably not enjoying as many mimosas as we were, but they were very kind to walk with us partially back to the Venetian - unknown if it was because they were enjoying our company or betting if we could even make it back.
We got back to our 17th floor (or so) room and passed out. We slept (purposefully) through dinner reservations, but we did get up slightly before needing to get to the Bellagio for our show. I tried to put everything I needed in Australia in my checked bag, and everything I needed for Hawaii in my shoulder bag. Punchdrunk from a nap and still with champagne in my system, we headed to "O".
Alisa got us amazing seats - the folds of the curtain all the way to the expressions of the acrobats as they tumbled through the air, plunging into the watery stage. The "borks" of the clown and his love story; the ghoulish cast that followed the spindly legged emcee; the strong men and women that climbed and swung and dove and disappeared underwater and made me think about stage construction and magic while chowing down on popcorn - it was a great, great show.
And, again, we were fooled by what looked like a short walk to get back to our hotel. We flowed along with the mob, up and down escalators over the streets below. The half mile took forty-five minutes at our barely strolling pace.
Thankfully, I had packed, because we ran up to the room, I grabbed my stuff, hugged Alisa, and hopped in a cab to the airport.
With about 90 minutes before my flight, I was at the counter, ready to check my bags, when the attendant asked me about a visa. Embarassingly, I had done no research as to how to actually get into Australia's borders. Though the flight was through Hawaii (so I had another few hours to obtain a visa, in my book), they wanted one before I got my ticket.
Thankfully, they knew the web address where I could apply for one and (usually) get it nearly instantaneous. "Be careful," they cautioned, "and make sure you double-check your passport number and other details." So I meticulously used my phone to type out all my details. Seconds passed, and I got a confirmation email.
Minutes passed, and the airline workers couldn't see my visa. We waited and refreshed a couple times. On the fourth look, they finally realized they had put in my passport number incorrectly! One digit later, my bag was checked and I was able to pass right on through security.
I don't remember if I had time to get to the lounge and grab a snack, but I was on the plane and off to Hawaii and that's what mattered.
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