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Carol Perkins: Las Vegas, Part II

By Carol Perkins

As part of the continuing Las Vegas story, Judy and I had just left the MGM Grand in Las Vegas after yet another fantastic Jimmy Buffett concert. The party bus that brought us over was not there to take us back to our hotel, which was too far to walk. We planned to take the monorail, but after standing in the ticket line beyond our level of patience, we walked the length of the MGM to find the cab line.

Unfortunately, it wrapped around the lobby, so our only choice seemed to be to walk to the Flamingo. Limped would be more accurate. Finally, I spotted transportation. "Let's take a city bus!"

The first bus pulled away from the bus stop as we reached for the taillights. Just like in a movie where you see the bus pulled away with a man or woman running behind it-that could have been us. We boarded the next one, which was jam-packed, but a gentleman gave us his seat so we didn't have to grab a leather strap or hang on to a pole as the bus jerked forward and backward at each stop.

At one of those stops, a lady in a scooter chair and her husband boarded. Maneuvering that chair through the people and into the small, allocated spot where it had to be locked into place was almost unmanageable. The irritated lady couldn't drive the thing while her husband, obviously mad at the wife because she couldn't drive the thing, accused those around them of being "rude." "Who's rude?" a fellow said whose foot she almost caught in a wheel.

Finally, she was locked into place, the husband apologized, and off we went. Then I heard someone who not within my sight cussing and calling the man standing directly in front of me dirty names that would shock a sailor. He shot back with his best filth. She told him what he could do and he told her what she could do and my eyes grew wide.

The bus driver should have stopped and called the police, but he did not. What I thought was a spat between an angry couple turned out to be between two strangers. I will never know what triggered the battle, but she looked as if she could have whipped him.

Finally, back to the Flamingo, Guy and Connie were watching TV as we crashed into the room with our story. Connie had one of her own.

"I started to sit at a penny slot machine and a man, dressed in a cream- colored suit and bedazzled with gold necklaces and gold-rimmed glasses held on by a gold chain, was sitting in a seat next to where I was going to sit. I am talking on my cell phone and he says loudly, 'Don't sit down here if you're going to keep talking on that phone. I'm sick of people talking on those *&%$

"I will talk when I want and to whom I want and if you don't like it, MOVE." He continued to scold her, so she left-to find Guy. "What was Guy supposed to do?" I asked, knowing the answer.

"Go straighten him out." Wouldn't that have been smart? To come back from a concert and find that my husband had whipped a man, who was dressed like a pimp, would have been something quite bizarre to tell the children. Fortunately, Connie never found him.

"Guy, what would you have done if she had found you?" I asked later.

"I probably would have gone with her to find him." We should not have left them unsupervised.

We returned to Nashville around midnight. When we got home, I asked Guy if he were going to work out-of-town the following week. "YES, I've got to have some alone time. Some quiet time." I can't imagine what he meant. -Carol Perkins

This story was posted on 2012-01-15 12:26:41
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