Friday, June 5, 2009


Touring the hotels was like walking through a 3-D travel scrapbook. "Remember Venice?" I swooned as we strolled through the Venetian. We sat by the faux Trevi fountain at Ceasar's Palace, rode a roller coaster atop New York, New York, frollicked through Thai-style jungly gardens at Mandalay Bay. All fake and gimmicky, in the middle of the Nevada desert, but even that was sentimental as I remembered the first time I ever drove down the strip: 19 years old, in the back seat of Erik's parents' mini van as we drove through from Southern California to Provo, Utah, to take Erik to the MTC for his mission.
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