Sleep when you’re dead… I kept reminding myself of this phrase while in Las Vegas this past weekend.
Las Vegas, the City that never sleeps and depletes everything from your wallet to your stamina!
But… like the best of alcohol that leaves a miserable hangover, it’s soooooo good goin’ down.

The trip was planned in December as a 50th birthday gift to one of our tribe, Michelle Peacock. Michelle is single handily the biggest Kid Rock fan on the planet. So, Patti, who has a knack for “winning” on the slots arranged for tickets to the show and accommodations at The Mandalay Bay.

Deborah and her husband Erik, our most generous hosts handled the travel, leaving extra spending cash resulting for me to have extra cash to play my beloved Black Jack.

After a fantastic meal at a Michael Mina restaurant, we spent Friday night at Top Golf, where Tracie proved her writing skills are much better than her putting abilities. Although none of us will be giving up our day jobs to join the PGA. Well, I say that with the exception of Alanda who literally blasted every ball out of the park!

Saturday, on the elevator, Michelle ran into of all people, Kid Rock. When he graciously obliged to a photo, I joked that at 47, he looked more like Grandpa Rock! But he proved to still have IT when he rocked the stage (more on that to come).

Back after Top Golf, Tracie found favor on the Mega slots and after I amassed more number 2s not adding up to 21, we crashed before Alanda, and Patti interrupted our sleep giddy from their fun. In the adjacent suite, Deborah, Nicole, Tami, and Michelle hit the sack as they were up early the next AM to get swim suits from Molly Browns and Michelle to make a mandatory stop at Walgreens. Nicole has been ruined for life by what she saw (but hey, what are friends for?)

Saturday evening, the group split up as Tracie, Patti, Deborah and I attended the Michael Jackson Show. Michelle and Tami headed to the 1st act prior to Kid Rock. Watching the Hologram bring MJ to life and the Cirque du Solieil performers move to his poignant lyrics, we were all moved to tears.

By 9 pm we rushed across the lobby of the Mandalay Bay to the Kid Rock performance. I didn’t know what to expect. Not surprisingly, I was the minority in the 12,000 seat arena. Although he had a phenomenal black female drummer and a black back up singer, I figured 3 out of the massive crowd was representing as I saw the hats saying, “American Bad Ass” and T shirts that read, “Don’t Give a Flyin’ Hillbilly F**k.”

I didn’t want to hear his politics, or for that matter any political commentary, however, I gotta say, for a young white guy from Daddy’s home town, Detroit, aka the Motor City, his message did not fall on deaf ears. Kid Rock shared it’s unfortunate we are divided, but we are indeed ONE nation under God. As his raspy voice belted out tunes I was familiar with such melodies as Sweet Home Alabama, I fell in love with his “bad ass” on tunes such as Born Free. His message, his stage play and interaction and video footage from when he was starting out as a D.J. which morphed into a prolific talent as guitarist and keyboard player made me a fan- almost as big as Michelle Peacock. Back at our hotel suite in the Mandalay as I looked out our window where the massacre recently occurred, I was proud of my daughter who had marched earlier that day to cease the shootings.

Woke, Worn Out, but not quite Broke… Mama’s lesson to NEVER give the casino all my money range true as I cashed in my earnings.

Gotta love you Vegas! I’m getting some rest and I’ll see you soon….