Let it Ride on 37 Black

The lead up to a trip is always full of expectations. Our last long weekend was no exception. We planned a four day trip to Las Vegas. We had a direct flight from Milwaukee; Carl and his girlfriend Ashley flew in from Philadelphia; Hunter and his wife Megan drove in from Los Angeles. We expected a Johnson’s take Vegas type weekend full of family silliness. And I know that Dan was hopeful for some sort unexpected “Hangover” action. None of us had ever been to Las Vegas, so at minimum we expected to be blown away by the city.

Dan and I certainly had heard the Vegas stories over the years. We were expecting free drinks, inexpensive and plentiful buffets, tours and entertainment aplenty. Dan scoured websites for Las Vegas tips and came away with lists of “specials.” Carl, expecting his father would over-plan the weekend, called me in advance to make sure he could have one whole day at the pool. I expected to spend quality time with the kids and take a day trip to the Hoover Dam or see a bit of the city.

We all arrived on Friday morning, checked into the hotel and headed out for lunch. The sticker shock of that first lunch tab sent Dan to his list of food bargains. He expected that we could eat more, for less. The next morning we decided to test it out. Dan pulled up directions on his iPhone and declared that the cheapest breakfast buffet was a mere 1.7 miles away. We were going to walk, not a problem for our family as we enjoy a good walk. I should point out here that, unlike the rest of the Johnsons, I need food first thing in the morning. When I am not fed on a regular basis I grow another head – a snarly, growly head.

We left our hotel, the Paris, and started out for Circus Circus and the cheapest buffet on the strip. After about 1 ½ miles of walking I was getting pretty hungry and started commenting on the distance. Dan, trying to calm me down said something to the effect that he really didn’t want this to be a death march. Really Dan? Because when you take a group of hungry people on a 1.7 mile walk across the desert I don’t know how you expect that it would be anything but a death march! Oh, I guess I said that out loud.

We finally arrived, were seated and went to the buffet. It was awful. Really awful. And filled with people who had no business in an all-you-can-eat buffet. I can assure you we were the only family who walked any portion of a mile to get to that meal. Dan commented that if anyone cared about these people’s health they would sink two steel poles into the concrete about 36” apart. If someone couldn’t fit in-between, then no buffet for you. On the walk back we stopped at a Walgreen’s. I treated the family to some Imodium to combat what Carl dubbed our rented breakfast.

Let’s face it: Las Vegas is full of expectations and light on delivery. It’s enormous, and as Ashley said, completely “faux”. It feels like a house of cards, built on a deck of cards. Initially, you are dazzled, amazed, awe-inspired – it is truly larger than life. And then you start to really look around. You see the emotionless people, with a player’s plastic card tethered to the slot machine like an umbilical cord. You hear the man on the elevator tell his wife that he only lost another $100. We played a few slots, actually could have cashed out with about $3 more than our initial investment, but of course, we expected the next draw to win, even more, until there was nothing left.

The expectation to win on “37 black” came to Dan in a dream a few nights before we left to meet the boys in Las Vegas. He mentioned it to me a few times in the lead up to our departure. He expected it to win. Big. When we met the kids at the hotel Dan immediately told them of his plan to put $50 on 37 black; they laughed. Walking confidently up to the table, it seems a roulette wheel only has 36 spots. Dan did bring home something unexpected however--a case of pink eye. He’s been to Las Vegas twice in his life and both times he’s come home with pink eye (I kid you not). Las Vegas is no place for a man susceptible to communicable diseases!

Our expectations for family time were met. We laughed a lot. We enjoyed each other’s company. Oh, and there was one unspoken expectation of mine that was met – the show guys are as gorgeous as I’d thought they’d be… 

Music that resonates:
Viva Las Vegas - ZZ Top (and no, Carl is not in the music video)

Silly Rabbit

Canned green beans are my favorite vegetable. I mention this because last night as Dan and I were discussing dinner options for tonight we circled around the choices in the freezer, me throwing out hints for red meat, Dan throwing out hints for dinner out at Hectors, and I mentioned that I'd like to have a side of green beans. The look on his face told me he wasn't pleased with my suggestion. We settled on a main course of cod. Dan mentioned that we didn’t have any breading and before he could finish his sentence (silly rabbit) I explained that he could make his own breading with bread crumbs and a little seasoning. With a slightly forced smile he said yes, he knew that. He was just mentioning that we didn’t have any prepared oven breading. Silly rabbit. He dug out the cod and put it in the fridge, and found a can of green beans and left them on the counter.

Tonight Dan skipped the gym. We have dear friends coming for the weekend with their kids and Dan was getting things squared away. I got home and dinner was 15 minutes from done. After a quick shower I came down to supervise final preparation. Dan was about to nuke the canned green beans, that I had purchased, and mushrooms before I explained that (silly rabbit) the slivered almonds need to be sautéed in olive oil, then the other ingredients need to be sautéed as well. Yes, they are mushy canned vegetables. No, sautéing them will not improve their texture. But it’s what I want, damn it. Dan complied.

After a minute of stirring the almonds in hot oil, they turned brown. “Are those burned? They look burned.” I saw the forced smile and Dan continued stirring.

Dan found a recipe for home made tartar sauce that involved capers, shallots and scallions. As he mixed in the last of the ingredients, I mentioned that if he had patted the pickles dry before chopping them the sauce would be less runny. The smile shrank.

The timer went off on the fish. Dan said it should have about five minutes to go—he had set it for the middle of the 17-25 minutes the recipe called for. As it wasn’t done, I explained that he needed to account for the thickness of the fish. The smile was now a small straight line.

With everything finally done a few minutes later, we retired to the Betty Room for dinner. I took a bite of beans and wondered what in the world he had done wrong. I blurted out “did you mix up the vinegar and olive oil?” (We buy our vinegar and oil from a specialty shop and the only indicator, besides consistency, is the color of the top wrapper – red or green. With Dan’s color blind disability it was an easy leap to think he had confused them.  Silly rabbit.) Dan explained that it was the green beans I had purchased, a can of mushrooms, slivered almonds and no, he knows the difference between vinegar and oil. After another bite or two, he got up and retrieved the can from the recycling. I’d bought dilled green beans—who would have thought?

And the almonds were perfect. And the tartar sauce was really good, too. And we have one more can of the dilled green beans. Damn it.