I’m So Lucky

I had a tough weekend.

A good friend from college had never been to Las Vegas and I agreed to meet her there. I was going to turn 30 a few days later so even though I knew Vegas wasn’t going to be exactly her speed, I figured we’d find ways to make it special even if we approached it from our now slightly older lifestyle choices. We wouldn’t need to dance all night and drink all day; there is plenty to do in Vegas for two almost 30-year-old’s who haven’t seen each other in a while.

Our hotel was beautiful, right on the end of the strip, and when we arrived Thursday night we went straight up to the rooftop bar to claim our complimentary champagne. We sat on the couch in the dimly lit room and caught up for an hour or so before heading to bed early. Nothing wild, nothing crazy, just a perfect beginning to what I hoped would be another few days exactly like it.

Instead what followed was a 6am wakeup call by my friend who wanted to work out in the hotel gym. I like working out, and I don’t mind waking up early on special occasions, so I rolled with it and had a fine time on the rowing machine and laughed as I attempted to do sit ups without loudly groaning. In all it was fun, but instead of energizing my friend as it had me, suddenly my friend was TIRED.

The rest of the weekend she was really irritated. Annoyed by the crowds of people, the smoky casinos, the hot Vegas sun, the over commercialization of everything, the waste of gambling, the rows of traffic, her tired feet, and probably me since I kept desperately pointing out all the things I thought were cool or fun or wonderful.

She wasn’t impressed by the Bellagio fountain, complaining about all the people filming it instead of enjoying it. She wasn’t awed by the statues or fountains or river boats inside the Venetian, since it was just a “cheap copy of the real thing.” She wasn’t excited to dress up for the evenings, didn’t want to seem like a tourist by taking any pictures, couldn’t be bothered to put on a swimsuit when we went down to the pool. She had no interest in the high ceilings or ornate carpets in the buildings we walked through and had nothing to say after the shows we’d purchased months earlier. Except that she was annoyed to be out late after her 9pm bedtime.

She judged the drinkers for their glowing drinks, the shoppers for their full bags, the casinos for their cheap decorations, and the city for its pitiful claim at greatness. She wasn’t happy, and in the rare moments she wasn’t silently brooding or snapping at something she didn’t like, it felt like the only comfort she was finding in any of her life was from telling herself how she was so much better than everything around her. It was really, really, hard to be around.

I’m probably being harsh here, and I’m definitely being self centered, but I want to make it clear how intensely I felt like I had to hold my breath all weekend, hoping I wouldn’t say or do something that would make our time worse. My only options were to constantly look around for things to do or say that she could possibly like, or just ignore her and try my best to find my own joy in my world.

After I dropped her off at her flight gate I called Daisy and cried harder than I’ve cried in a long time.

I knew better than to get my hopes up when it came to Vegas, and I definitely knew better than to think that this particular friend would find any joy there. But I couldn’t help but cry for my simple failure to get one nice night with my friend where we wore pretty dresses and I felt celebrated and loved. I’d be turning 30 in a few days, and selfishly I really wanted to feel young and beautiful and happy at a dinner or a show with my friend.

I know I can still get this feeling literally any time, that I have no shortage of friends or dresses or cash to spend on a dinner out, but my hopes were up, and it sucked to feel powerless as I watched them fall.

She did open up to me on the last morning about how down she’d been feeling over the last few months, about how she was naive to think that a trip to Vegas had any ability to get her out of her funk. And the weekend wasn’t 100% bad, we definitely had a few good talks about how our lives are going and how we want them to be, and we walked over 60,000 steps in 3 days so we must have seen some cool people, places, and things.

One afternoon we spent a few hours rocking out to an 80’s cover band before I watched her knock the socks off a karaoke bar with an Alisha Keys tune. And we even spent a nice half hour touring a wedding chapel and imagining how we’d run it if we opened something similar in Seattle. So while I absorbed a little more negativity than I would have liked that weekend, and I’m still really raw when it comes to interacting with her, I know beyond a doubt that I’m still incredibly lucky.

I flew straight from Vegas to California for a work trip, and for the ensuing 5 days I was absolutely showered with love. Two of my coworkers had high quality presents (REI jacket and camping coffee mug) they couldn’t wait for me to open and every morning and night my guy gang of favorite coworkers texted me to make sure I always knew the plan and wouldn’t miss a second.

We ate out every night, worked marginally hard during the day, and did our best to network and enjoy CA in all the moments in between. We laughed hard and often, ate well and drank better, and reminded each other how close we’ve all become over the last few years.

I met new coworkers who liked me enough after two days to buy me a balloon and a card on their own dime, and the accounting department (which I quit three months ago) threw me a lunch time pumpkin pie birthday party and extended a deadline so we could go on a walk to the beach through the butterfly grove. At a giant 35 person company dinner on my actual birthday (with unlimited wine and beer) my old boss (who used to make me cry for less happy reasons) stopped all the conversations of the big wigs of the sales department so he could give me a birthday speech and song, telling them that I am quote, “his favorite person” and that, “he couldn’t have sold his company to them without me.”

Person after person ran into me in the hallways of the office and stopped to chat, and I watched the sunset over the ocean and played frisbee golf on an afternoon break. My friends took the top off a jeep so I could ride in the front with the wind in my hair, ordered sea urchin so we could try something new, followed me as I led them in nighttime walks around the city places I’d spent my favorite parts of the spring in.

On Friday, a high school friend of mine drove the 3 hours north to meet me for dinner and stay in my hotel, and the next day she drove us back along the coast to spend two days together at her place before my flight out tonight (Sunday). In less than 48 hours we crashed a free rock and gem show, walked a craft market on the beach, got smoothies, went shopping, saw a musical (In The Mood), watched The Birdcage, played with her dog, and made plans for the coming months.

Now I’m at the airport and I haven’t had a second to respond to the Facebook birthday love, or wish Bluebell a happy birthday, or properly check in with most of my closest friends or family. I was just invited over text to join a friend in Disneyland in the next few months, and in less than a week I fly to Minnesota for Thanksgiving with family, and a week after that I’ll spend a weekend in Denver to surprise a friend. 

And today, at the play, as I handed my ticket to the usher at the door, he asked me if everyone in my party was present. I smiled back at the elderly gentleman and told him, “Yes, just me.” since my friends were already inside at their seats. He took my ticket and collected his thoughts before looking me directly in the eyes and saying, “You as you are is more than enough.”

So it is moments like that, and all the moments I’ve had before it, that assure me, I’m INCREDIBLY lucky.