Wynn-ing Me Over

The Night I Stopped Fighting Vegas and Started Falling for It

My mother had a friend who refused to go to Las Vegas, no matter how hard her family tried to convince her. She was afraid the rapture would come while she was in Sin City.  She wasn’t taking any chances.

I had never been to Vegas until this summer. I wasn’t worried about eternal damnation. I just didn’t think I’d like it.

For the first 24 hours of my big adventure, I was determined to do Las Vegas my way.  Day one? Quirky history museum and rooftop pool. No casinos. Day two? Hoover Dam excursion, a little shopping, and more rooftop pool.  Again, no casinos.

But the night was still young.

My friends were about to open my eyes. Until I stepped inside the Wynn Las Vegas Resort, I didn’t understand that casinos weren’t just part of the Las Vegas experience—they were the Las Vegas experience. They weren’t just hotels with slot machines and blackjack tables. Each hotel creates an entire universe of its own. My world was about to shift, for sure. Regina gets the credit—or the blame. I’m still not sure which.

We started at the Wynn for a pre-dinner cocktail. Within seconds, we realized we needed a signal—some way to say, “Tammy, pick your jaw up off the floor.” Regina, her husband, and her mother had to use that cue more than once.

I knew the Wynn lobby was a top spot for Insta photos, but it wasn’t just a backdrop. It was more than sun-drenched, grand atriums filled with plants and flowers en masse.  It felt like stepping into a scene of a fantastical movie. Steve Wynn created an experience, not just a spot for selfies.

As we made our way out to the terrace bar my friend whispered, “Act like you do things like this all the time.” I was trying my best. The website describes the Aft Cocktail Bar as an overlook lounge on the lake of dreams.  That sums it up perfectly.

How had I been so wrong about what was fast becoming my newest favorite city?  I’d expected something like Myrtle Beach on steroids, but this was something else entirely. 

We were seated at a table with gorgeous, navy and white, wide-striped umbrellas. The scallop edging made it top tier.  I couldn’t get over the level of detail.  Even the seats of the chairs were piped in coordinating fabric.  Every drapery panel had trim wider than my hand, wider than Rob’s hand even.  Yes, we measured.  Regina had long given up on trying to get me to keep a poker face.

You’d never know we were just steps off the strip. The lush garden made everyone forget the hustle and bustle of Las Vegas Boulevard. I gave up counting the hostas and hydrangeas. 

I was taking my sweet time with my very fancy martini because I didn’t want to leave, but ever punctual Regina kept us on schedule.  Time to move on to the next stop. Dinner reservations across the street.

I was officially in unfamiliar territory—but I wasn’t the least bit lost.  I’ll admit I thought about the second coming while I was in Sin City, not because I was concerned about my final destination but because I didn’t want to miss a thing.

Maybe it wasn’t just the flowers or the fountains. Maybe it was the feeling that I could stop resisting and judging and just be. That I could let the city surprise me. That I could let life surprise me.

What else had I been missing out on, just because I’d foolishly decided something wasn’t for me?I’m not going to do that anymore.

My mother never liked anyone to say, “Swear to God,” so I won’t. But I will say this.  I promise,  cross my heart, Vegas was better than I ever imagined.  Dare I say heavenly?

And, yes, Regina is already planning our next trip.

Next up:Wearing my second sparkly outfit of the trip, and completely smitten with Las Vegas, I left the Wynn and headed out to dinner. Then Barry. Could this trip possibly get any better? Stay tuned.