Bad Dad

It's 3:30am and I'm pushing a stroller through a casino in Las Vegas. Mylo looks out with earnest curiosity as lights, bells, and debauchery explode around us. Judging by the look of surprise on people's faces, I'd say we've caught Sin City off-guard. Prostitution? Yes. Public Drunkenness? Check. Baby in a stroller? Whoa, whoa, whoa... that's over the line, dude.

Now, this is my first time in Las Vegas and, while I had some idea of what to expect, I didn't foresee a little, late-night jaunt with Mylo being such a complicated event. But as we saunter past the roulette tables, hardened gamblers drop their poker chips and sit slack-jawed at the sight of us. And in fairness, I can understand their shock. A nine-month old baby most definitely does not belong in a casino, especially at 3:30am. There are, however, some mitigating circumstances here. Allow me to explain: the boy is jet-lagged and for his little body it's actually 6:30am-- the time he normally wakes up. Furthermore, I wasn't the one who designed the hotel with a front door on the far side of the casino! My intention is simply to take Mylo out for a walk, buy my wife a few more hours of sleep in our hotel room, and hopefully exhaust the boy enough to get him back to sleep. Honorable enough, in my estimation. I'd like to explain this to the people staring at us but I don't have the energy. I've slept about 3 hours and, to be honest, I'm not in the best of moods. I'm also resentful of the feeling that I need to explain my sense of ethics to a group of drunken gamblers and over-stimulated, libido-gone-wild, twenty-something-year olds.

Through loud music, scantily clad cocktail waitresses, and the intoxicating ringing of bells and whistles, we make our way to the front door and emerge outside. Any notions I may have had about things being calmer and quieter outside, however, are immediately dispelled. I wasn't expecting soothing, moonlit strolls down cobblestone paths, I wasn't that naive, but, seriously, how could I have foreseen the half-naked (yes, that half) homeless guy getting tackled to the ground and arrested by the police? How could I have prepared for the drunken prostitute asking if she could rent my stroller? Or the throngs of tattooed fraternity brothers drunkenly shouting 'Vegas, baby, Vegas'? Eventually I spot a semi-quiet path off to the side which Mylo and I duck down. It turns out to be the entrance to Bally's Casino, and it's quite peaceful, which may not be such a good sign for Bally's but it suits our needs perfectly. The tree-lined path offers the illusion of pastoral calm, and the water in the fountain provides some white noise. It's just my speed. We hunker down here for a while, enjoying a brief respite from the storm.

Eventually, we return to the hotel. We walk back through the casino, suffering even more stares, and spend another hour hacking around in the lobby of our hotel. Mylo loves new places, and he loves to watch people even more. From our perch on a sofa in the corner, the huge hotel lobby offers plenty of both. Mylo bounces up and down in my lap and screams with excitement. At about 5am we return to the room, and shortly after Reedu wakes up and takes Mylo.  Having reached a place beyond tired, I collapse into bed and am asleep before my eyelids even shut.

Looking back, I have to admit that our little adventure was fun. I certainly don't plan on taking any future late-night casino strolls with Mylo, but through the haze of sleep deprivation and cigarette smoke there was a feeling of excitement that I think we shared. We were seeing the crazy world through the same little window. We were together, in a bubble, looking out at a wild scene, and while it's probably a good thing that Mylo's too young to process it all, or even to remember it for that matter, I'll never forget it. We had an adventure. And it was fun.

Still exhausted. (Mylo's peeking out from behind the sofa).