A very shitty end to the vacation

I must've scored negative karma points with my taunting about snow-free Vegas.

Saturday started off easy enough. We got up early and headed to Paris for the massive breakfast buffet there. My throat felt a little weird, but it had several other mornings as well, probably because of the really dry air (and the Venetian funk, which doesn't get into the rooms, but it does waft up through the elevators).

When we got back from breakfast, I suggested we go down to the pool to enjoy a little sun. While only in the mid-60's, it was pleasant enough. Diana did some reading, I did some pool-side Wi-Fi. Learning earlier in the week that the 10pm Blue Man show had nosebleed priced tickets for the lower level (they apparently don't use the balcony for the second show), I figured, what the hell, let's go see it!

I didn't feel quite right just after that. I couldn't put my finger on it, I just didn't feel right. I left Diana to read and went back to the room to crash.

And crash I did. I wasn't feeling well at all. By the time we pursued an early dinner, I had that feeling like I wanted to always be swallowing something. I kinda knew what was coming, but was in denial.

After dinner, we picked up our Blue Man tickets from will call, and went back to the room. I could feel the decline, and I started to get some serious shivering, but no fever. Yet. We lingered around in bed for like three or four hours before the show, at which time I put on a T-shirt, sweater, and jacket to stay warm and counter-act the shivering.

At first, I thought I was OK. We sat in our seats and had a little bit of "The Feeling" even though physically I felt like shit. We got into the theater at 9:30, and at 9:45, I felt like I was gonna yack, and my hands were falling asleep. Yeah, I was in full-fledge high fever mode, and dehydrated as hell. Reluctantly, I got up and went down to the theater lobby.

This is where there was at least a happy mid-section to the story. Diana went above and beyond and talked to the box office and got a refund. They obviously don't have to do that. The theater manager scored some ice water and they offered to get me a wheel chair or whatever I needed. He gave us his contact info and told us to give him a call next time we were in Vegas, and he'd hook us up with tickets for the show. How cool is that?

The water helped immediately, but wow did the fever get ridiculous. At the room, Diana got me some Theraflu (or whatever it's called), I tried to hydrate some more, and passed out. Sleep was shitty, as I kept waking up in a puddle of sweat, and every time I swallowed it hurt enough to wake up. I had some strange dream that had something to do with a Mix session from earlier in the week, and that was annoying.

So sadly, our last day was not a particularly good day. This morning the cab ride was uneventful, and aside from idiots who seemingly have never been through security at an airport, we're chilling and waiting for our flight to board. Cousin Dave sent me a text warning that our driveway was impassible (he was feeding the kittehs), so I called the good ol' boys who cut my grass and they're gonna take care of it before we get back.

I'm already worrying about whether or not I should go to work tomorrow. I know I've got meetings, including one that I called, so I really should go. This is, oddly enough, the second time I got sick after going to Mix. I went through the same thing in 2006, only it started the day I got back. I think it's the Venetian funk. I don't intend to stay there again. (Side note: They do not pipe that stench into the Palazzo, thank God.)