Just an Hour, I Swear

Chris and I start almost all of our nights out with the pre-function whining. We will whine about having to leave the house, or having to get dressed up or make ourselves look presentable. We will share jointly out loud to each other our fantasy weekend night - a night at home watching a movie. In our pajamas. And then we really up the ante when we talk about how great it would be to go to bed really, really early and wake up the next day refreshed from our perfect quiet evening at home.

The whining continues as we both get dressed, as we prepare to leave, hug the kids goodbye and bid farewell to the babysitter. We then, almost always, assure the babysitter we will not be longer than an hour, because, truly we just want to be home. Quite and comfortable at home.

We mean it. We do. It just never happens. Inevitably, once we get where ever we are, join in whatever festivities we have planned, we evolve into party people. I don't know how it happens, but the next thing I know, the night has stretched from one hour into many.

Last night was such a night. We were invited to a friend's 40th birthday party celebration - Vegas style. The invite specified dressy attire. I was cranky when I was forced to bust out the cocktail dress and make up. Chris moaned about having to wear a jacket. We promised each other - an hour, maybe two - but at the most, home by 11. Sure.

The party was fantastic. We were greeted by a life size Elvis and balloons galore. Upon walking in the door, you were given a raffle ticket and each half hour a ticket was drawn for someone to spin a giant wheel of fortune wheel for party favors. And these were not your grandma's party favors. Throughout the night, we saw people winning ipods, sabres tickets and gift certificates.

Everyone was dressed to the nines, including a guest who came dressed as Elvis, resplendent in a polyester jump suit. There were five black jack tables and a roulette wheel all manned by dealers. I played black jack for hours, laughing harder than I thought possible with a drink constantly kept full by friends or the waitresses. Chris and a friend were constantly running back and forth from our spot at the black jack table to place bets on roulette. It was pure mayhem and lots of fun.

At the end of the night, guests were asked to cash in their chips for more raffle tickets. The chosen tickets got a chance for thirty seconds in a cash machine filled with two hundred, dollar bills. I can not tell you how absolutely hysterical it is to see people with many a drink in them jumping for dollars at 1 am. Dollar bills were shoved into dresses and pants as people cheered and hooted. It was a riot.

We were home late. Very, very late. It wasn't the early Saturday night at home watching a movie we had dreamed about, but I think I liked my late night gambling in Vegas just the same. But next time, just an hour, or two, I swear. Really.