On the Road

We left town. On 23 December, we crammed packed suitcases in the car and headed toward the airport. But not directly to the airport. First we had a little bidness to take care of...

THE BACK STORY
Our faithful battleship gray 1988 Crown Victoria, the "Ride of Pride" that floated down (well, actually all over) the road silently beaming the message, "Well, if only I were a bit younger I could be mistaken for a police cruiser," has been donated to charity. That's what happens when you invest over $1,000 in a car, let it sit for a few weeks, take it in for emissions testing, and it piddles brake fluid all over the floor like a spastic puppy. With brakes threatening to fail completely, I got the car from emissions to a trusted mechanic. Ch-Ching!

The estimate to retrain Liz, as we named our piddling friend, to heel was $900. That was either the real price or the figure for which the mechanics were willing to bury their hands in that vehicle's nether parts. I'm told that those Crown Vic engines are less than a joy to maintain. We opted for donation.

The blue book on the car was just over $300. I argued with myself (an unattractive sight, to be sure) and failed to convince myself that Liz was worthy of rehabilitation. So off she went to church. That was not the ultimate destination. Merely a stopping point at which the tow truck could "hook up" with our charitable donation. There she sat. While another person beneath this roof wrangled with the appropriate parties, Liz dutifully collected a DayGlo orange impound tag, was granted dispensation by the authorities because she rested on private property, irked the landlord because she took up scarce parking space, and finally prompted a call to deal with the situation before Christmas. I didn't check messages on my cell phone until December 22. Guess what we were doing the next morning? Right. Leaving town.

Thanks to my wife putting in a convincing plea for assistance with GEICO, by now Liz is probably an attractive metal cube somewhere. Nobody in their right mind would want to buy her. More importantly, we became liberated. One less car in the driveway and three more people flying to Nashville.

NASHVILLE
You want to know a fine Christmas gift? How about parents paying for a few nights of accommodations at a super-fancy hotel in Nashville for each of their kids and the extended families. I know. Too much, isn't it? Wow.

The Gaylord Opryland Hotel is a sprawling complex adjacent to the former site of the Opryland amusement park. Atria inside the hotel cover thousands of live plants around man-made waterfalls and fountains, magnolia draped in spanish moss, boat rides, shops, restaurants, and even the "exteriors" of buildings. The place is massive. A convention facility anchors one end of the complex. Six levels of rooms flank each atrium, which gives you an idea how high the covered space is. I won't go into extensive detail, but available dining on the premises ranged from fast food kiosks to upscale dining including a seafood restaurant, a steakhouse, an Irish pub, a sports bar, a homestyle buffet, and the Jack Daniels restaurant. A selection of shops offered sundries, specialty clothing, seasonal items, and music (oddly enough, predominantly in a country vein). And if that was not enough, the Opry Mills mall complex, which replaced Opryland, provided access to nearly everything one could want. It is the Nashville sibling of Maryland's Arundel Mills mall complex.

I can't recall the last time all the kids were together at Christmas. We've waited for our little sister to catch up, but "the kids" now all start their ages with the numeral 4. Thus, this gift was extremely special to us. Folks from Florida, Pennsylvania, and Maryland met in Tennessee as guests of our parents, who left 20 inches of snow in Indiana (and were delayed only one day!) to host this clan gathering. To say the least, this was high-style treatment the like of which we are unaccustomed to. But we're willing to become more accustomed if anyone is willing to front the cash to do so. Gracious staff made the visit most pleasant.

My daughter provides even more detail, and the unique perspective of a young teen lady, at her blog: creativekid.blogspot.com

Following our Christmas celebration, the clan scattered to the four points of the compass. We took West.

LAS VEGAS
The theme of Christmas vacation seems to have been scale. The Opryland Hotel was huge. So too was the architecture along Las Vegas Boulevard. Flying into Las Vegas from Nashville, the first thing that impressed me was the geography.

If you don't want much, there's plenty of it to be had just outside Las Vegas. The landscape looked stark and sere. Although it was not yet 5 p.m., that was the last bit of daylight to be had that day. We collected our rental car and drove toward what we hoped was our destination. Some people are too cool for maps and directions. They really annoy their passengers.

Back to the topic of scale. Buildings on the Strip subscribe to the bigger, brighter, better (or at least louder) approach to site planning. Traffic crawled as we drove from one end of the Strip to the other. We saw all the big name places, most of the big name entertainer billboards, and almost too much of a mobile billboard promoting dancers for whom the adjective "scanty" would herald a wardrobe upgrade. I didn't look. Away. Until the light changed.

We finally got to our home for the next few days, the Hilton Grand Vacations Club at the Las Vegas Hilton. HGVC was modest. Seventeen stories, nice lobby amenities, a pool with hot tub and grills, and a decided family feel. The Hilton Hotel and Casino, however, was another glitzy bit of Vegas. Two towers, several shops and restaurants, and more slot machines than I have ever seen in one place before.

That's all for now. Later, how to visit Vegas and avoid having fun.