Another Day of Misconceptions and Some Bad Singing

Yesterday, we went to the Grand Canyon.  The weather was beautiful, the Canyon breathtaking and now I can check the visit off my bucket list. The trip getting there however, was a strategic blunder on my end.

Apparently, there are three ways to get to the Grand Canyon from Las Vegas: A car, a helicopter and a bus.  I have been driving a lot for work and the thought of renting a car and driving 375 miles round trip on a road that was not the New Jersey Turnpike or the Garden State Parkway was not appealing. The helicopter was also a non-starter. Years ago, we had taken a helicopter ride and it took about a year for me to get feeling back in my fingers after clenching the seat handles for the entire trip. So that left the bus.

We were told to meet at a nearby hotel (which by the way, we had to take a taxi to get there—another big miscalculation on my end because I had no idea that the Vegas Strip was as big as it is. It looked much smaller in Oceans 11) at 6:15 am. There were loads of groans from my traveling partner—but we were there on time. The problem was that so was everyone else in Vegas. There were about 500 people milling about and all I could think was, “Are all these people going to the West Rim of the Grand Canyon?”

Needless to say, I was starting to get nervous. With my daughter reluctantly following me, I began asking every person wearing Capri pants, sensible shoes/sneakers, and a Starbuck’s in their hand, “Are you going to the West  Rim? Are you going to the West Rim?” (As an aside, from my daughter’s eye rolling, I don’t think was the approach that my daughter would have taken.)  We finally found two sisters from Cincinnati going to the West Rim and I stuck to them like Velcro.

Another misconception on my part was that I thought we were traveling in a comfortable van or small coach.  Incorrect. When a huge, double decker bus pulled up the sisters from Cincinnati and I were flabbergasted. The only silver lining was that I had packed my Sea-Bands in case of too many windy roads. After climbing on board, we were then transported to a “central location,” so that we could get our wrist-band to determine where we were going and to get on another bus. It was all coming together why we had to arrive so early— it was 8:45 and we had yet to leave Las Vegas.

The trip was only enhanced when our guide told me and my fellow bus mates,  “You can ask me any question you want, and I won’t know the answer.” And he didn’t.  During the WHOLE RIDE we were serenaded by an off-key four year old who I imagined had a mother who thought was “adorable.”   The rest of us, not so much.

While we loved the Grand Canyon, we both agreed that today’s visit to the Mob Museum was a lot less stressful.


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