TRAVEL | LAS VEGAS | TRAVEL MEMOIR

I Picked Up Something In Las Vegas That I Am Not Proud Of

What happens in Vegas doesn’t always stay in Vegas

In late 2008 I called my mom to tell her that we needed to do a mother-daughter trip. I’m not sure what prompted my insistence, but something was pulling me to bond with her over travel.

We decided that it would be fun to go to Las Vegas together. She loved to gamble, I didn’t mind it, and we both relished in the glitz and glamor of what Las Vegas is. At that time, the artistic side of my brain had not been re-opened, but I loved to experience creativity, and Las Vegas is certainly that.

On previous visits that I had done with my husband, I would stare in awe at the creativity of displays, the painted details, and the intricateness of the architecture. From stunning water fountains to lasers, light shows, music and world-class shows — Las Vegas truly has it all.

There is not one inch of the Las Vegas strip that is not fashioned in some way, shape or form and the sheer amount of creative detail in that city is absolutely mind-blowing. To say the least.

This may sound like pure hell to some. But I can assure you, it is also pretty incredible if you look at it in the right way.

So my mom agrees. Yes, we will do a mother-daughter trip to Las Vegas then will drive to Palm Springs to see some friends from Canada that overwintered there. The trip would be about 10 days.

We both flew in from separate parts of Canada — she flew from Calgary while I flew from Vancouver — and we were arriving within one hour of each other, my mom being first.

As I entered the arrival terminal, my mom was nowhere to be seen.

‘Shit!’ was all I could think.

I paced around a bit trying to think of what to do. I had a rudimentary cell phone back in those days and finally decided that I would pay the exorbitant fees for international calls to phone my Dad in Canada to see if he knew anything.

He told me that mom had already called him from a payphone (she certainly didn’t have a cell phone back then) to tell him that she was somewhere else in the airport. After finding out where she was, we were happily reunited. Phew!

Now, I want to preface this part of the story by apologizing to my mother. It is in writing this piece that I think about what I put you through in those days of us traveling together. As I look back from my later-life perspective, I can understand how absurd this way of travel was. But you went with it and didn’t complain. We did have some fun, though. Didn’t we?

My plan to get us to Freemont Street was to take the bus from the airport. Yes, the Las Vegas city bus. This is how I travel even now, these days. But somehow, it seems a bit absurd in Las Vegas. Tell me I am wrong.

To make matters more hilarious, we both had our golf clubs. So here we were, dragging our golf clubs onto a city bus (I can still see an old lady giving me the stink eye in my mind) that would take us close to Freemont Street. I think we ended up walking multiple blocks as well from where the bus dropped us off.

Sigh…….I bet you are already understanding why I wrote the above apology paragraph.

Our hotel was an adorable corner building in the heart of the old part of Las Vegas — Freemont Street. Live dancers danced in our lobby at happy hour, and the friendly bartender chatted to us about this and that on our first night. We celebrated that we had made it and didn’t go too far that night. Mom wanted to do some shopping at the outlet malls the next day, to get it out of the way. I was happy to do that, though shopping is not exactly my cup of tea. (There is a give and take here I suppose!)

I don’t remember exactly how we got to the mall, but it was also probably by bus. As we entered, I noticed a hair salon just inside the doors. I had been meaning to get my hair cut and figured that I could do that while Mom went shopping. There was a department store across the way, she could spend enough time in there to wait for me. I told her I would find her when I was finished.

It was quiet and there were no customers so the hairdresser put me in a chair straight away to talk about the look I was going for and what I wanted done.

I can’t exactly remember the progression of events past this part, but what I do remember is what she said, “You have lice!”

My eyes bulged in their sockets as I sat staring at myself in the mirror. “WHAT???????” Was all that I could muster.

As I sat there in disbelief, she ran around putting instruments and tools into the Barbicide Disinfectant. Meanwhile, I can see my mom in the mirror, walking into the shop to check in on things.

I got up from my chair and marched up to her.

“Mom, I have lice,” I said with the most serious tone I think I have ever used in my life while I stared at her with a look of wild abandon.

“It just started in the last couple of days.” The hairdresser piped up. “It’s even possible you caught it on the plane ride down here.”

I didn’t dare tell her we had been riding the bus as well.

“The quicker you deal with it, the better.” She said.

The words pierced my psyche, and for once in my life, I listened.

After giving me instructions on exactly how to deal with it, I literally dragged my mom out of the mall, back onto the bus (sigh) and straight to a drug store. We would buy this shampoo and we were going straight back to the hotel room to deal with it.

No if, ands or buts on the way.

I was visually distraught by now. Disgusted and crawling out of my skin. My mom had to walk double time to keep up with my frantic pace.

Back in the hotel room I immediately got busy washing my hair with the shampoo that we had bought at the drug store. Don’t even get me started with my embarrassment at doing that. Of course, realizing now that she likely thought it was for my kid.

The shampoo came with a very tight-pronged comb that we were to comb the lice out with. After washing my hair, I bent over the edge of the bed and put my head under the bedside lamp. My mom was bent over me, comb in hand, attempting to comb out any eggs that may be present. (Oh my god I am disgusted even now.)

It was then that she jumped. “Oh! Something moved!” She exclaimed.

Well!

This gesture unleashed a wailing scream in me that came from the tips of my toes or beyond. I feel like I screamed for 30 seconds before I realized that we were in a hotel and it is really not appropriate to scream like that.

“Oh shit, I hope someone doesn’t call the cops on us.” I suddenly burst out laughing. My absolute terror had been replaced with some sick sense of comedy at how appalling the whole situation was.

Even still, if she had seen something move, we were headed back to the shampoo. I would not quit until I eradicated all of those little assholes.

Thankfully, whatever we did that day worked. The cops didn’t knock on our door, we didn’t get arrested, and we never saw the lice again. Now, 15 years later, I look back at these days and wonder if I have learned anything from this experience.

After recently traveling across Africa by bus and train for 2.5 years, I think not. But despite the hassles, the setbacks and the unexpected bumps along the way, I do have fun. And really, that is all that it is about.

And it’s interesting to note that through all of our travels, in many different levels of accommodations, transportation systems and the like, I have not once seen lice in the past 6 years of full-time travel. Now that is saying something.

Thank you to Darren Weir for hosting this story in his relatively new publication Travel Memoirs.

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