The adventure continues...

<< Monday, September 2 ...later. >>

Satiated from my "gourmet" lunch, we piled back into the van and headed to one of the more famous south rim vantage points, Mather Point.

A panoramic view of the Grand Canyon and my baby bump.

The view from my window seat as we watch the canyon fade into the distance. Farewell, Captain Todd. I'll never forget you.

Sightseeing sure works up the appetite, so once back in Sin City, Trish and I head across the convenient attached walkway from our hotel to the Fashion Show Mall and El Segundo Sol for some Mexican food.

There's nothing better than a big ol' bowl of guacamole and plenty of white and red sangria to get the party started. Wasted at four in the afternoon! That's Vegas, baby.

More food and drinks, Vegas style (that means the calories don't count - what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas, right?). Check out the alcoholic glaze over my eyes.

Thoroughly exhausted from our eight-hour mini excursion to the Grand Canyon and our Mexican siesta, Trish and I thought we'd cat nap before heading out for some final slot action. Our bodies, however, had other plans. Though we had every intention of getting up, we actually slept through to the next morning.

Grand Canyon redux...

<< Grand Canyon - attempt #2 >>

Monday, September 2

Like a deleted scene from Groundhog Day, Trish and I rotely re-enacted yesterday's early morning trip to Maverick's air field for attempt #2 at a Grand Canyon excursion. Fortunately, today's aircraft decided to cooperate and we were able to take off as scheduled with Captain Todd (insert dreamy sigh here) at the control panel of a very, very tiny plane.

Here's the view from the back of our itsy-bitsy 15 passenger puddle jumper. Kind of exciting but also extremely terrifying. At least I got my own seat and didn't have to cram into the last row three-seater.

And everyone gets a window seat! Well, except for the poor schmuck stuck in the middle of the three-seater in the back.

I guess the NSA isn't worried about terrorists bombing our National Parks, since the open cockpit design of our plane doesn't allow for a separate cabin and cockpit. It's like cruising the skies in a big ol' station wagon. And just like dad on those long road trips, our swarthy pilots act as our tour guides, pointing out landmarks along the way and...

...inviting us to visit them in the cockpit. That's right, instead of watching out for flocks of wayward birds or storm clouds, our trusty pilots will take your camera, perch it on top of the control panel and take a selfie with you!

And here's Trish on her trip up to the cockpit. I cannot for the life of me remember the co-pilot's name is he wasn't nearly as hot as Captain Todd (on the right).

After a civilized 40-minute flight (we nixed the much cheaper bus option because it's a 5-hour drive each way), we land on an air field just a couple of miles from the canyon. Trish and I finally get to live out our Howard Hughes-esque fantasy of jet-setting around the country in our own private jet. Naturally, we never travel without our dark glasses and fedoras.

Once on the ground, our centerfold-worthy pilots take some time to pose for their adoring passengers/fans

Grateful for a safe landing, I give our Maverick jet a big "thank you" smooch on the noggin. Jets need love, too.

After a short bus ride, we arrived at Bright Angel Lodge for our first glimpse of the Grand Canyon. I am in awe of the view as you can see by my freakishly excited expression and slack jaw.

Since we arrived fairly early in the morning, we were able to avoid the tourist rush and leisurely lounge on the cliff wall in relative solitude. Except, that is, for the many marauding squirrels aggressively grabbing for our "gourmet" box lunches.

Here you can see me enjoying the advertised "gourmet" boxed lunch included with our Grand Canyon tour package. That would be a "gourmet" turkey sandwich, a "gourmet" bag of chips and "gourmet" bottled water (with accompanying "gourmet" mayonnaise and mustard packets). Bon appétit!

The adventure continues...

Grand Canyon or bust...

<< Sunday, September 1 >>

With my list of spots-to-visit-before-I-die growing endlessly longer and my time on earth dwindling away faster than Miley Cyrus' integrity, I decided to book Trish and I on a very expensive one-day trip to the Grand Canyon via small charter jet. Let's be real, I'll probably never have the time, opportunity or finances to plan a separate trip anytime soon.

With iPhone cameras in hand, we heeded our 6am wake-up call and groggily headed downstairs for the shuttle transfer out to a private desert air field for the 40-minute flight to one of the Seven Natural Wonders of the World (I'll have now seen two - the harbor in Rio being the first).

We checked in and waited patiently for our group to be called for boarding. After about an hour, the waiting room stood painfully empty save me, Trish and an anxious handful of tourists. I was called back up to the check-in counter.

I'm sorry, due to technical difficulty with the aircraft, we've had to cancel your tour for the day.

Huh? My once-in-a-lifetime trip is canceled?

We can reschedule you for tomorrow morning.

Phew, disaster diverted. Sadly, a few foreign tourists didn't have the luxury of an additional day for a reschedule. And though my linguistic skills are limited to English and a spattering of Tagalog curse words, I could tell there were some mighty angry foreign profanities being hurled around that waiting room.

Disappointed and sleepy, we joined a bunch of pissed of tourists on a shuttle bus back to Vegas.

Determined to salvage the rest of our day, Trish and I made a beeline for the TI coffee shop for a gluttonous All-American breakfast of pancakes, ham steak and home fries. If I wasn't going to see the Grand Canyon today, I'd at least have a Grand Breakfast.

And that was just the beginning of our Sunday food orgy...

In a decidedly unhealthy attempt to eat our feelings of disappointment, we lucked out and snagged a last-minute reservation to the ultra-chic, very snooty, high end Sunday brunch at the Mandarin Oriental's Mozen Bistro. Yes, the above is in fact the buffet's all you can eat oyster, shrimp and crab claw bar. The buffet also boasts a noodle and ramen bar, made-to-order sushi bar, dessert bar, carving station and dozens of other random high end choices. Oh, and you also get to choose a supplemental menu entree with your meal. Best of all, unlike most of the other high volume buffets, the price point and limited seating ensures you're not fighting the huddled masses for that last claw.

We decided to walk off some of the day's calories by hoofing it on the strip. Unfortunately, summer in Vegas isn't exactly amenable to daytime hiking. We instead hit one of the many discount ticket booths and on recommendation from our friend, Chris, got tickets to Jubilee! at Bally's.

If you're looking for a dazzling evening of fine singing and stunning choreography, be sure not to miss Jubilee! said no one ever.

If you're looking for a cheesy display of silicone-enhanced boobs accompanied by the gayest, most mediocre chorus boys in Vegas, and boobs - did I mention boobs? Get your tickets to Jubilee! immediately.

Even though I shall never re-gain those precious 90 minutes of my life wasted at Jubilee!, the night wasn't a complete bust. Trish and I lazily wended our way back to the hotel in the comfortable desert evening enjoying the sights of Vegas at night.

I'll admit, I'm probably being a tad harsh on Jubilee!, but it has a review average of 4 stars on Tripadvisor.com. I mean, come on. It's at best a 2-star affair, and that's for the costumes and novelty of all those topless dancers. Trust me, after about 10 minutes you realize you're in for a long, tedious evening of cliched skits that were probably only vaguely sexy in the 1970s when they were likely created and staged. The only reason to sit through this mess is to see the rather spectacular contortionist couple. Bitter, party of one, check please!

We finally make it to the Grand Canyon...