Day 8 - Universal Studios

Thursday we tackled our third theme park day in a row, at Universal Studios. 

Our tickets included transport, which turned out to be a tour bus driven by Guido from Mexico, who claimed to have won his green card on eBay, got his licence at Autopia in Disneyland, and promised to take us to Vegas instead and sell the bus for gambling money. We could dump the children at Circus Circus and he’d call his wife to tell her “Hasta la vista, baby!”. 

Of course, he also claimed to have had two tequila shots for breakfast and once dated Sandra Bullock, as well as having done the stunt work for the bus jump in Speed, so I’m not entirely sure he was serious. 

The first ride we went on was Jurassic Park. Having learned my lesson from Splash Mountain, I insisted on buying a waterproof poncho before embarking on it. Nevertheless, the hood blew off on the 84-foot near-vertical drop after the Tyrannosaurus Rex tried to bite our heads off, and I got drenched anyway. 

The next most exciting ride was The Mummy, a rollercoaster that at one point goes backwards. Also notable were the Transformers, which nearly made my heart stop (in 4-D with motion chairs, it’s remarkably easy to convince me we are in fact hurtling towards the ground at great speed). I got turned into a Minion on the Despicable Me ride, and sprayed with water at the Waterworld show – which, despite the movie being so crap, was an amazing show filled with clever stunts (and a lot of water). 

I think I found MH370.

We took the Studio Tour, where we went round various sets including Jaws, a plane crash, a 3D King Kong experience, and a set done up like a subway platform where we experienced an earthquake, a truck crashing into us and setting afire, and a train derailing into our path. Thankfully, the earthquake didn’t feel particularly real, but I did flinch at the derailed subway train. 

Safely back in Anaheim, Emma and I decided some grown-up relaxation was in order, and we nipped over to the Sheraton across the road for a wine in their bar. We met the loveliest bartender called Cynthia, who was sweet and hilarious and served us our first California Sauv. It was the perfect end to the day.

Day 6 & 7 - Disneyland!

What can one say about Disneyland? It’s bright, it’s big, it’s magical, it’s Disneyland. 

No boogying!

Once through the gates, we decided to climb on the Disneyland train and get our bearing around the park. We were at once amused by the safety warning sign which appears to discourage dancing. 

After doing a full round, we started off with New Orleans Square and the Haunted Mansion. Many rides followed after that – Pirates of the Caribbean, which was magical and amazing, the Teacups, Winnie the Pooh, the Carousel, Splash Mountain (where I got completely soaked, and had to buy a

new pair of shorts!), Indiana Jones (exciting as all hell), Jungle Cruise, the Columbia sailing ship, Autopia. Plus there was a lot of time spent in gift shops, finding just the right set of mouse ears.

On the second day, Chris and Julie joined us on our adventures. I declined to do Splash Mountain a second time, instead electing to hold everyone’s bags so their phones and cameras didn’t get ruined. We tackled the Matterhorn Bobsleds, which were a bumpier ride than they perhaps should have been, and left me covered in bruises. We also did Star Tours (which made me feel a bit sick afterwards), and my personal favourite, the Big Thunder Mountain rollercoaster.

Monte Cristo

Lunch was at Blue Bayou, where I ordered the “famous” Monte Cristo sandwich. This turned out to be a three-cheese sandwich, battered then deep fried, and covered liberally with icing sugar. Thankfully it came with a side of fruit, because that thing was truly awful. 

On the California Screamin' Rollercoaster

In the afternoon, we headed over to the California Adventure Park across the compound. I’d originally intended to take the Ferris wheel, but instead was convinced to go on the California Screamin’ Rollercoaster. This was very long and had a lot of sideways bits and a loop-the-loop. Not the most fun thing I’ve ever done in my life. I truly thought I was going to die. 

And after a last evening ride on the Columbia, we said a fond farewell to Disneyland. 

Rollercoaster in the distance

Day 5 - On to Anaheim

We were up and checked out of our hotel early for the trip onwards to Anaheim. Because it was actually cheaper than a taxi, we piled into a limo to travel in style to the car rental place at the airport. 

It was with a heavy heart and a wish to stay just a bit longer that we made our way out of Las Vegas and onto the freeway back towards LA, guided by the GPS – this one nicknamed Sammy. Having daylight for our journey through the desert this time, we saw little but vast expanses of brown, some more brown, and a few brown rocks and hills. 

As we travelled on, billboards started appearing to let us know that Peggy Sue’s  50s Diner was coming up ahead. Then more. And more. And more again.

By the time we’d passed maybe our twentieth ‘Peggy Sue’s 50s Diner’ reminder billboard, Emma drily suggested that maybe we should stop at Peggy Sue’s 50s Diner. Thus, we did. 

The place was huge, and packed – far more packed than its location in the middle of the desert, with nothing else for miles around it, would have suggested. I guess the billboards worked on them too. 

After buying Marilyn Monroe’s drivers licence and having my photo taken with a cardboard cutout of Elvis, we were on our way again. All was well until we were nearing LA, and everyone started driving like maniacs, swerving across lanes without indicating, forcing gaps where no gaps existed (at high speed!) Apparently they’re well known for it. 

After a bit of confusion about where the car rental place was (we’d chosen the address as Orange instead of Anaheim, and consequently ended up a few minutes’ drive from where we meant to) we made it there alive and sadly parted ways with Keely, who was going on to LA. One of the staff offered to drop us off at our hotel rather than us taking a taxi. It turned out she had spent some time in NZ during the world cup, and she cracked us up with her accounts of trying to get herself arrested by good-looking Kiwi cops. 

We dumped our bags at the hotel and went in search of Emma’s parents and Nigel’s daughter. After wandering around the Sheraton across the road for a bit, it occurred to us that we might be at the wrong one (which, sure enough, we were). So we jumped in a cab across to the right one, and spent the afternoon lounging by the pool, followed by a leisurely dinner at an Indian place down the road. They didn’t have Sauv either, and the bubbly we ended up with tasted a bit like Chardon, but on the plus side it was only $12 a bottle. 

Then on back to the hotel we went, to rest ourselves up to tackle Disneyland.

Day 4 - Glitz and Glamour

This was to be our last day in Vegas, so we had to make it count! In the morning, some of the group went shooting, and the rest of us decided to put our comfy shoes on and go shopping. 

Into a taxi we clambered, which whisked us off to the Premium Brands Outlets. This is a massive open-air mall complex on the outskirts of town, with designer brands at knock-down prices. We set ourselves a time limit and shopped like fiends. 

This was where I first made the acquaintance of Skechers Go Walks. I hadn’t quite understood the fanaticism of their wearers before then… but now, of course, I do. They really are the most comfortable shoe ever invented, and I practically lived in them from that moment forward. 

Once we’d shopped ourselves silly, we whipped back to the hotel just long enough to dump our purchases and rendezvous with the bloodthirsty shooters at Gordon Ramsay’s ‘BURGR’ restaurant, where we duly admired their bullet-ridden t-shirts and zombie posters as we tucked into the most delicious burgers I’ve ever encountered. The truffle parmesan fries were a trifle salty, but that was ok, I’d run out of room for them anyway. 

Afterward, we decided to check out the swanky rooftop pool party at Drai's. Cover charge was $20 for women and $30 for the men, and the bouncer looked us up and down critically. I'm fairly sure he only let us in because he suspected Nigel might be a celebrity. 

Up on the roof, I could see why. Everyone was young, thin, tanned and toned, with a decent amount of surgical enhancement in evidence wherever you looked. We were by far the oldest, flabbiest, palest and hairiest group there. Nevertheless, we ordered expensive drinks (but for some reason didn't order the $375,000 bottle of wine on the menu), got in the pool and shook our thangs with the beautiful people. Keely got excited when she spotted (and took a covert photo of) Adam Lambert.

A quick five-minute change into our glad rags, and then it was time for drinks at the Bellagio in the Baccarat Bar. We hastily downed these so we could keep our appointment at Mon Ami Gabi – they don’t wait around to give away the table if your party doesn’t show! 

The food at Mon Ami Gabi was delicious, of course – the French Onion soup had come highly recommended by tour guide Jessica, and it was everything she promised it would be. 

Afterwards, we killed a little time at the slot machines in Paris until it was time to meet the limo. Emma and I had great fun winning money on the Lord of the Rings and The Hangover games. They do make them exciting. 

In the limo, we cracked open our duty free and caroused our way around the city, with stops at the Vegas sign for photos, and at Fremont Street to take in the party atmosphere and hear a guy do the best Michael Jackson cover ever (with the moves, to boot!). Then on to the Mirage to see the volcano erupt – which, unhelpfully, it neglected to do before our time was up and the limo whisked us, tired Cinderellas, back to the Bellagio.

At the Mirage

While the others continued the party back at the hotel, Keely and I stopped at the Bellagio Fountain for its last show of the evening – aptly, the Star Spangled Banner. 

Fremont Street

 

Day 3 - In the Grand Canyon

After a hasty coffee, the group assembled to wait for our transport to Papillon Helicopters’ airfield. Once there, we were weighed (thankfully, they didn’t tell us the result of this) and shown a safety video which essentially consisted of how to put on a seatbelt and open a door. 

After a bit of waiting around, we were rounded up and installed in the helicopter ready for lift off. And it was exciting! Our pilot, Blaine, was a friendly guy and we were all silently relieved to learn that he’d actually taught flying for a time. Clearly this dude knew what he was doing. 

We flew over the Hoover Dam, and got a good look at Lake Mead – very low, after a three-year drought. And then on to the main event – the Grand Canyon.

Down, down into the Grand Canyon we went, and then landed and clambered out into stifling temperatures. It was awe-inspiring. So deep, so massive, so… ancient, for all the trappings of tourism that were evident there.

Blaine set out for us a picnic lunch, and poured champagne. It was all delicious. Time for a few photos, and then we were in the air again (and the air conditioning!) and heading back.

Afterwards, back in Vegas,  the group split up by gender - the guys went off to do guy things, and the ladies headed to Paris. Paris was one of my favourite places - the casino's ceiling is painted to look like a beautiful blue sky with gentle clouds, and its shops are built to look like buildings on the streets of Paris.  We found a bar that served Sauvignon Blanc (yussss!) - although it was from Marlborough, NZ - and plonked ourselves down with a few bottles of this to enjoy an A Cappella group playing old Motown hits. These guys were sex on legs. Phwoar.