Last night, we fulfill our mission to go out in the rain and find great martinis.
That's the good news.
The bad news is that we stop at an open winery by our hotel and taste six of the nastiest wines on earth. Seriously, each one is progressively worse. They brag that their chardonnay 'has not touched oak but instead has been aged in stainless steel.'
Perhaps that's why it tastes like watered down fruit juice with a metallic after taste.
B-man and I both make comments that we know are code for 'hate it!' Things like, 'uh-huh,' 'oh my,' (that's a dead giveaway) and 'interesting.'
We end our tasting session by asking where to get a good martini.
Martini Heaven is a sushi bar called Happy Fish. Through the evening, each of us has two Beefeater martinis that contain three green olives stuffed with blue cheese. We eat sushi. We have so much fun.
We walk in the rain back to our room and everything is fantastic.
Then I realize I am a little drunk. Then I puke.
Romantic, don't you think?
Nevertheless, after sleeping it off (B-man is fine, I might add) we get up early and do our usual walk around the city. No longer raining, the smells are amazing.
I can't wait to get back to the hotel for a hot breakfast and lots of coffee. Breakfast is a free buffet, with all the basics, including a waffle maker.
That's what I want, a waffle.
As B-man is filling his plate, getting us a table and making multiple trips with coffee, juice, fruit and a toasted bagel, I stand and stare at the waffle maker, reading the three-step instructions over and over.
Intimidating little bastard. What does 'flip the handle' mean, anyway?
Me to B-man: 'how do you do this?'
B-man: 'you've been reading the instructions for five minutes - you tell me.'
Now I have to make the f-ing waffle just to save face.
More adventures today. Less alcohol.
image from www.vegasnews.com