When we started planning to do a sister-only weekend, we all assumed we would all three be flying to wherever our destination might be. But when we finally settled on Reno, and I did an impromptu Mapquest query for driving directions it turned out it would take me a lot less time to just drive up there than it would for me to go to the airport, sit and wait for the plane, fly on the plane, etc. And besides this way we would have a car. So Friday afternoon, while my sisters were dealing with what was apparently the turbulence from hell on their respective flights, I was driving around the twisty mountain roads through the mountains toward Reno, reminding myself just why it is that I don’t like driving twisty mountain roads. And I especially don’t like twisty mountain roads when they are doing construction on them and have those barriers up that leave one no room at all to maneuver in one’s lane, especially when one is going around a corner next to a rather large and wobbly semi.

But somehow we all made it to Reno in one piece. I actually arrived first and checked into the hotel. The first thing that hit me was the stench of cigarette smoke (because really, what is one vice (gambling) without the others (drinking and smoking)). The second thing that hit me was the sheer cheesiness of the hotel – and the room. I think it was designed and decorated in the 70’s. There was much use of purple and neon red and velvet curtains.

Then it was off to the airport to pick up my sisters. We returned to the hotel, they dumped their stuff, we went back downstairs, and promptly ate éclairs for an afternoon snack to get the weekend off on the right (high caloric) foot. We sat around and talked and laughed and took silly pictures of our feet. We admired the wallpaper. And then we decided that since we were in Reno, we might as well feed a few bucks to the slot machines. This is when we discovered that:

1. We have absolutely no idea what the logic is behind all those slots with three rows and cute music.
2. If you win something on the aforementioned slots you get a little slip of paper with the amount on it to cash in later.
3. We are so clearly non-gamblers that this excited us so much that once I got mine (for a whopping 45 cents!), the other two immediately had to find a machine to give *them* little slips of paper listing out some ridiculously low amount of change. And then we all scurried back to the room to take pictures of us with the aforementioned credit chits, while laughing hysterically.

My older sister saw a sign in the airport indicating that the Chippendale men were at Harrah’s, and we figured that was an entirely appropriate activity for three women on their own for the weekend. But the show didn’t even start until 11:30 and unfortunately we are apparently too much of old married ladies to stay up that late. We didn’t think the guys would appreciate it if we ended up snoring as they went undulating past in their teeny tiny g-string undies. So instead we got tickets for a comedy show in the hotel.

There were signs all over the place indicating that Friday was Karaoke night in the bar, and I suppose it’s safe now to admit that I have always had this secret desire to do karaoke at least once in my life. There we all were in a town where no one knows us and would ever see us again and we had just enough time before the comedy show started so…we got up in front of everyone with microphones and did an awesome rendition of “The Shoop Shoop Song”, basked in the rousing applause for all of about ten seconds, and then beat a hasty retreat far, far away from anyone who might have actually *seen* us. It was actually so much fun that I think we should make it a tradition for our annual sisters-only weekends in the future, but I think my sisters may take a wee bit more convincing for that to come about.

The comedy show was a blast. There were two main comics and the club owner who started it off (and for some reason decided that since we were sitting right next to the stage we were fair game for light-hearted heckling), and there was a guy who could juggle better than anyone I’ve ever seen, and even though the main act wasn’t as funny as the woman who opened the show for him, we still were laughing pretty much the whole way through.

By the time the show was over it was so late and we were all so tired but my younger sister really wanted to get room service, so we ordered up huge ice cream sundaes and ate them in bed (or rather, we all ate about half and then couldn’t handle anymore). We called our respective husbands and told them all about our day (Me to Richard: “We did karaoke!” Richard to me: “Oh my.”) and then finally curled up under the psychedelic bedspreads and tried to ignore the train passing outside so we could get some sleep.