Mom Porn: Vegas Business Trip

In a thousand different ways, I am a lucky lady, despite the grief that I’ve known.  I’m healthy, have a great husband, beautiful son, there’s a roof over my head, food on my table, $ in my 401K, and I have a career that I love and am good at.  Lucky Freaking Lady.

I got even luckier this week when I was flown to Las Vegas to speak at a conference about dementia caregiving.  This was not a conference about dementia or for older adults — a completely different field of professionals paid their good money to bring me in as an expert.  I was nervous, as I have not presented professionally in over five years.  But, like riding a bike, I nailed it, and it felt great.  Lucky Freaking Lady.

Trip started out a little rocky, as I flew an “ultra low cost carrier,” to come in under the $300 travel budget afforded me.  When I told Mary Tyler Dad what airline I booked, as he is a frequent business traveler to Vegas, he asked, “What’d you do that for?  You should never use that airline.”  Oops.  Worse yet, I got the middle seat and sitting next to me was a gal who insisted on traveling without shoes or socks on.  And with her feet on the seat.  She must have been a yogini, because she was tall and those seats are squishy.  Poor gal was probably as sickened by my hacking cough as I was by her feet on my seat.  We had an annoying stranger game going on.  I think she won.

Things started looking up, though, as I walked into the hotel.  Opulent. Grown up.  Fantastical.  I checked in and walked into my room.  First thought I had was, “Mom Porn.”  An empty hotel room for two nights.  Me, myself and I. We are great company — an instant sorority without drama or cat fights.  I unpacked and wondered what to do with myself.  I had 24 hours before I was scheduled to be anywhere.  Lucky Freaking Lady.

Turns out, I didn’t leave that hotel room until the presentation the next day. Room service, yo.  I picked up a phone and asked them to send me a chicken salad sandwich, thank you very much.  And they did.  Serious Mom Porn.  My lady parts are still quivering.

Next day I dressed in my swankiest “I Got It Going On” business dress and walked into a room full of strangers, none of whom were in my profession. Two hours later, having hit a presentational home run, I was back in my room with another 24 hours to kill before being expected back at the airport.  Just a day earlier, the last place I wanted to be was on the Vegas Strip:  too loud, too noisy, too many people trying to hand you cards with pictures of naked ladies on them.  Yuck.

Well, riding that high of having done something well and being recognized for it, I was ready to rumble.  I dressed in my hippest clothes and hit the Strip.  I mean, I was feeling the need to exercise what had effectively been handed to me on a silver platter — a night alone, no responsibilities, no dinner to prepare, no toddler to wrangle into pajamas.  Mom porn, see?  I had a responsibility to all the moms out there — those that bring home a pay check and those that don’t.  Five hours later, I blissfully walked back into my room having had a fantastic evening.  One for the books, folks.  Lucky Freaking Lady.

Those five hours involved Dancing Waters, a stroll on the Strip (I will withhold my feelings about strollers on the Strip, though, as that got me in some hot water on my Facebook page), a cherry vodka milkshake, two handsome young lads complimenting my ass-ets, Elvii, dancing girls,  Arturo, the 65 year old cyclist who wanted to whisper sweet nothings to me in Spanish, and somehow, as only one can do in Vegas, visiting Paris, Rome, Venice, and Lake Como, by simply crossing the street.  Lucky Freaking Lady.

Mom porn, for me at least, has nothing to do with sex.  Two nights away from home, room service, the sights and sounds of one of America’s treasured cities, alcoholic milk shakes, career home runs, and the certain comfort of knowing that just a plane ride away was my husband and son, waiting for me. Lucky Freaking Lady.

And the only porn worth its salt is visual, so have at it, Moms:

Was it good for you?