What happens in Vegas…

            Sunday 2/9/2015.

Today we were flying to Las Vegas! We spent the night at a hotel 10 minutes from Gatwick airport. This would end up being the only time we ever did that for our travel adventures. This was also the only time we took a taxi to the airport. Future us would prefer driving through the night to arrive at the airport at 3:30 a.m. or get the National Express. We hate future us. But future us are very budget-conscious and prefer to spend hotel money on tours or replica skulls.

The boarding passes we’d printed for our trip to Las Vegas wouldn’t scan but they checked our passports and let us through. This was the first time we’d ever left the UK, aged 33, and we didn’t own suitcases. Luckily, our uncle is an intrepid traveller so lent us his large case. Unfortunately, the case was too big to go with the other luggage and had to go in a different area with the ‘oversized luggage.’ It was dead on its 23kg weight. A feat we’ve failed to replicate on every trip since.

Disaster Strikes

At security, Cat set off the bleepers and had to go into a body scanner, stand on the footprints and raise her arms. The footprints were too wide apart for her short legs. Lynx didn’t set them off, despite us dressing similarly. We’d bought clear plastic bottles for liquids and filled them with cranberry and raspberry squash so we could drink on the plane, which unbeknown to us, would be our downfall. Security seized Cat’s tray and told her she couldn’t take her bottles on. Lynx wasn’t stopped for the same bottles. He said the bottles weren’t marked as 100ml. Apparently, the picture of the aeroplane on the case with a tick beside it didn’t count as proof. We disagreed.

Security, “can you prove it?”

“No, I don’t have my eBay receipt.”

There was no way she was losing the bottles after paying for them.

“Should I get an empty bottle to pour them into?”

“Yes.” He clearly wasn’t a scholar in sarcasm. He took her boarding pass, passports and the offending bottles.

Lost, not found

Cat left her stuff with Lynx and Neen (including her flip phone, which had made it through security) then asked security where she had to go. He walked off. She followed him, refusing to let her passport and boarding pass out of her sight. When she caught him up, she asked again where she had to go. He wanted her to follow him. Then tell her that, instead of making her follow you like a deranged stalker. He took her back to the gate and left her there with her passport, boarding pass and bottles.

After a while, Neen and Lynx approached the security man.

“Where did you take my twin?” Lynx asked.

“What does she look like?”

Was he being serious?

“She looks like me.”

“I left her at the gate.”

“Will she come back this way?” Neen asked.

“I would advise her to.”

Really helpful.

The disaster continues

By now, Neen and Lynx were panicking that we’d miss the flight, and we had no way of contacting each other. Las Vegas was in peril. Cat’s sense of direction is best described as ‘abysmal.’ Cat had found her way back down to Smith’s. After queuing for ages, she learned they didn’t sell empty bottles. She returned upstairs and found another Smith’s. They were surprised security hadn’t allowed the bottles. They also didn’t sell any. Cat returned to security and told the woman at the gate about the fiasco.

“Which side of security did you go to?” the woman asked.

“Right.”

“Go to the left.”

Cat put the bottles in the tray and they passed through without an issue. The security guy was clearly a wankenstein.

We’d brought our video cameras to film some of the ghost hunting show we used to do on YouTube (Calamityville Horror) and while we were talking to the camera about our airport experience, Virgin Atlantic texted Neen to ask how our Gatwick experience had been. Memorable, Virgin Atlantic. Really memorable.

Time to fly

We boarded really quickly. But 11 hours to Las Vegas is a long flight. We watched a documentary called Life After Manson, about Patricia Krenwell from the Manson family; Avengers; Age of Ultron; Poltergeist; and Terminator: Genesis. We also played Dobble and dice Carcassonne. Dobble is an updated version of Snap, with more pictures. One of the pictures is a bomb. Only after slapping her card down, did Cat realise that calling out “bomb!” on a flight bound for the USA probably wasn’t the best idea.

There was turbulence during the flight, but it got much worse as we descended. Lynx suffers from travel sickness so felt really ill and got pins and needles in her hands and feet. And there was no sick bag in sight. Cat soaked a tissue with our bottled water and put it on the back of her neck. As soon as people started clearing the plane, Neen and Cat sent her off while they gathered our stuff. Vomiting on the plane wasn’t how we wanted our American adventure to start. The bottle incident caused enough drama. She sat in the air controlled tunnel, trying not to vomit, but luckily, by the time Cat and Neen arrived with the bags, she had recovered slightly. At customs, Lynx was quizzed about her trip, her job, how much money she brought, where she got her customs form. Cat’s officer didn’t speak to her.

Landing in Las Vegas

At the baggage carousel, Cat nearly took out two guys with her heroic dive for our case. Then she couldn’t lift it off, so another guy helped her. We queued for ages for another customs desk then Neen was escorted to a different area because she had alcohol. We waited for 20 minutes at the exit while they made her empty her bag, clearly suspecting her of heinous smuggling crimes. When the woman saw Neen’s tiny bottle of vodka, she laughed. Tiny bottles were clearly going to be our ruin.

We got a bus to the strip for only $2 each. The Las Vegas desert heat as we stepped outside was immense. It was like a wall of fire. As we rode away from the airport, we got very excited at seeing cacti and palm trees. Neen laughed then said, “I forgot you’ve never been anywhere.” The furthest we’d been was visiting family in Guernsey when we were 13. And the airline lost our tent.

Getting to Las Vegas

Our trip to America was arranged through Trailfinders, so they could sort out the awkward flights. The poor travel agent in Trailfinders spent hours with the three of us while we debated how long we’d be in Las Vegas for, how we would then get to San Francisco, and argued over which hotel we wanted. Neen’s parents were staying in the MGM Grand. The only hotels in our budget were Tropicana or Excalibur. Neen voted for the Tropicana as it had a nice pool. She’d been working as a scenic artist for a TV show called Galavant, which was set in a castle, so she didn’t want to see another castle. We considered The Tropicana bland. A Las Vegas trip should include the gaudiest, tackiest hotel on the strip – The Excalibur. Plus, we love castles. Neen was outvoted.

The travel agent probably brought forward his retirement. We ruined his day further by leaving to “think about it.” We phoned them a few days later and decided to accept their plans, even mentioning the poor man’s name so he would earn his commission. He could put it towards therapy.

Queens of the castle

The Excalibur hotel is huge! Sadly the castle décor doesn’t extend to the inside. The interior is best described as “brown.” The air con in our room smelled bad. We hung out in our room for a bit then wandered the hotel. There are a couple of outdoor pools and endless slot machines and arcade games. The downstairs was full of different gambling tables and machines. There are apparently arcade games in the “fun dungeon” below. We were too tired to do anything. We asked about a fridge for our room, but it was $28 a night. No thank you. The guy at the desk suggested we get some ice from the machine and fill a container. So we did. Got back to our room at 6:45 p.m. and were in bed by 8:30 p.m. Living the rock and roll lifestyle in Las Vegas!

Read Day 2.