You know you live in Vegas when...

The latest inspiration for this post hit me recently.  But first, I must tell you a story.

I have a very lovely friend here in Vegas who I met in an, um, well, unconventional way.  She actually met my SIL first, and it was through their chance encounter at a pet store where my daughter and her aunt went for some afternoon time together and a conversation was struck up.  My name was mentioned (as the actual mother of the child my SIL had with her), as was my struggle to get to know people in my new city (I'd been here all of two months and was frustrated and lonely and telling everyone all about it).  So my soon-to-be friend boldly asked my SIL for my phone number and shared her own, no doubt thinking she could help me out and score another play mate for her darling then-three year old. 

(I really think, had it been me, I might have not been so willing to put myself out there with a total stranger, to yet another total stranger, and when I think of that, I am ashamed and sad to think that, because of my insecurities, I would have missed out on a really great friendship.)

Anyway, when my SIL brought my youngest home and handed me a phone number of a woman I'd never met, I truly thought she was crazy.  I then began running through all the possible scenarios that would prove this was a scam or some equally mischievous plot to...  well, I dunno - do something to harm me or my family (not that I'm suspicious, or paranoid, or anything) - but I came up with none.

A few days later, I got a text from my future friend asking me if I'd want to have "a cuppa", and I immediately had a sense this was someone I was going to like (her British accent and random English phrases were endearing, too).  We've been getting together every few weeks for a cuppa (and maybe some good cookies, muffins, or anything chocolate) since.  (If you're reading this, C, it's been awhile!  Let's get together soon!!)

None of this is really a "you know you live in Vegas when...," except for:

• where else would a mom be so willing to reach out to another because she understood the difficulties inherent in trying to meet friends in Las Vegas (which really does have a certain level of difficulty all its own here)?
• where else, but an international community, would I make a friend from "across the pond", who charms me with her British ways and makes me feel so intimidated to make a cup of tea?

Anyway, the point for telling you all that, was to tell you that we were invited to a bowling birthday party for my friend's little one who is turning 4.  And, that day, as I was traversing an insanely huge casino with my two kids in tow - complete with the not-so-fresh aroma of chain smokers, the nauseatingly busy carpet, the overstimulation of dinging and clanging and flashing lights, multiple buffet lines, and not a single clock or window or other way to connect with reality in sight, it hit me.

You know you live in Vegas when you drag your kids through the sights, sounds, and smells of local casinos to take them to a birthday party for one of their friends in the casino's bowling alley.  (Where they have a blast for two hours, life is as normal as it gets, and you meet some really nice people who you've never met before.)  But still, you should have seen some of the looks I got from those who were there to gamble, as if they were saying, "lady, you brought your kids here?"

Next time, I'll know to park right outside the doors that go straight into the bowling alley...