Some of you may remember that the husband and I took a little trip to Las Vegas not too very long ago.  It was mucho fun and in case you didn’t know, this girl LOVES playing craps. 

What I didn’t tell you about is the small mishap I had while we were there.  I would like to preface this story with two disclaimers:

#1:  Sometimes, when you aren’t familiar with your surroundings, you tend to get turned around.

#2:  It’s stories like these that make my husband rub his head and say, “why do you tell me these things?”  However, he loves me just the same.  I think.

While in Vegas, after a few cocktails, we went shopping.  (By “we” I mean I shopped and the husband tagged along.)  I found the most perfect, fabulous dress ever which was music to the husbands ears at this point – hello, there was gambling to be had.  However, said dress was short and strapless which is fine in the summer, but in the dead of winter…well, let’s just say you may have mistaken me for Powder’s long lost sister.   But whatever, the dress rocked and I wasn’t about to leave without it.

Enter my great idea for a spray tan.  Brilliant, I know.  Scheduled it at the salon in Encore, however the tan was actually at the Wynn.

I made my way to the salon at the Wynn.  Logic tells me that since I made the appointment at the salon in Encore I will be gloriously tanned at the Salon at the Wynn.  Makes sense, right?  Right.  At the Wynn salon they tell me that my appointment is actually at the Spa since they have private rooms and point me down the hall. 

The point I’d like to make here is that as soon as I got off the elevator every window said SPA on it and I’m not much into details.

I walked down the hall, opened the big, glass door and announced that I was there for my 3:00 spray tan.  To which the guy, in running pants and collared shirt, replies, “They can help you right there,” while pointing right outside the door I just walked through to a counter with girls dressed as though they work at a spa, are waiting on me.  Probably wondering what in the hell I’m doing – IN THE GYM. 

That’s right folks.  I walked right by the desk, into the gym, to get my spray tan.  One would think the TREADMILLS would give me a clue, but no, they didn’t do one thing to help in this expedition. 

The upshot is that I gave the two people at the desk, IN THE GYM, a good laugh for at least a day or two.  Maybe even a week.  And once I found my way, I ended up with the best spray tan EVER. 

My husband, well, I’m just thankful he thinks I’m cute.


  • Matt Hardy on Oct 10, 2013 Reply

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  • Michelle on Feb 24, 2011 Reply

    This would totally happen to me. And post pics of this glorious spray tan so I can be jealous. I am deathly afraid of them because I fear looking like an Oompa Loompa.

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