a giant slab of meat

this is when she stopped

When you live in a city like Los Angeles or perhaps any city, you can only be there for so long before an uncontrollable urge to flee takes hold of you.  Before you know it you find yourself in the drivers seat tightly gripping the steering wheel, barreling down the highway with the city disappearing over the horizon behind you.

By February 2008 that is exactly where Jaime and I were.  Now that both of us had jobs and we’d begun to develop routines, the day to day life of Los Angeles was getting to us.  We’d been in Los Angeles four months and didn’t feel any closer to achieving out dreams that we had been in Seattle.  The weight of the pressure to get this done was weighing heavily on us and it was time for a break from this life.

On a Sunday morning in January Jaime and I jumped in the car and headed off to Las Vegas for the day.  Our plan was to return late that evening but we ended up driving in the wrong direction for nearly an hour.  We decided instead to turn around and go back home.

This time we had reservations at the Mirage and printed out directions on google maps.  We were going up on a Sunday and returning the following Monday, because that was when the rooms were the cheapest and we both had Monday off.  This was the weekend after Chinese New Year and the week before Valentines, so this was our treat to one another.  We made reservations at Kokomo’s a restaurant in the Mirage that specialized in seafood. According to the website the average check was $65 and that sounded reasonable enough to us.

The previous year Jaime and I took our first vacation together.  We went all out and spent a week in Vegas at the Bellagio.  For our big night out we had dinner at Prime, one of the premier steak houses in the city.  The price was steep but the steaks were delectable.  This time however we were on a tighter budget and Kokomo’s seemed like a decent alternative.

It’s 4 1/2 hours from LA to Vegas, Jaime and do it in 3 1/2 without getting a ticket.  We arrived early afternoon on Sunday and checked in.  Vegas is like a night club it looks good at night, dark, sexy, mysterious with flashing lights.  When you turn on those lights the illusion is broken, the floor is covered with spilt drinks, sweat, spit and garbage.  The walls become visible and all the mystery vanishes.

We walked the strip for a while, checking out all the changes that had occurred in the previous year.  By late afternoon we decided to hop in the pool for a quick dip before dinner.  In the winter most of the pools close early and we were too late.  We decided instead to throw a few dollars away in the black jack machine before dinner.

Kokomo’s had seemed like a nice place that wasn’t too expensive but right away the atmosphere failed to live up to expectations.  Located just off the lobby it boasted a multitude of plastic plants and a pathetic dribbling waterfall.  A far cry from the secluded 1950’s nightclub feel of Prime.

The waiter brought us our menus and there were plenty of options, from crab to clams, halibut, prawns, steaks, and lobster.  The only problem was that there were no prices on most of the menu, instead in small print next to the description of the entree it said MP (market price).

When Jaime asked the price of the lobster,I nearly crapped my pants when he answered, $150.  Similarly the crab was $115 and the prawns and clams were about $100.  That left a couple of steak and fish dishes under $50.  I found some overpriced salmon for $25 but Jaime was struggling.  We came for the seafood and it was way out of our price range.  We wanted to just get up and leave, find another restaurant.  There was one just around the corner we’d been to before and loved.  We should have just left but I was concerned about getting into another restaurant without reservations and we ended up staying.

In Jaime’s frustration she settled on a 32 ounce prime rib steak for about $45.  After she placed the order I thought about the size of the steak, 32 ounces?

“Don’t you normally order 8 or 12 ounces?” I asked.  Her eyes grew big and she began to giggle.

My salmon was brought out on a dish served atop asparagus and rice, then they wheeled out Jaime’s steak on a stretcher and slapped it on the table.  It was a behemoth slab of rare prime rib steak, no sides just a tiny cup of ajus.  At this point all we could do was laugh about the entire situation.  The table next to us was occupied by a group of cougars who were already drunk and growling and howing looking for some young studs.  The dinner had been a complete bust but there was nothing short of good entertainment to keep us occupied.  Jaime ate less than a third of the steak before declaring that she was full.

We had the waiter pack up the meat in a box for... later?  It wasn’t until the elevator ride back up to our room that I realized where we’d gone wrong.  The website had said, “average check” they were talking about average check per person.  Who goes to a $65 meal and eats alone?  Back at the room I placed the steak in the bathroom sink and covered it with ice, hoping to salvage it.

The remainder of the evening when exponentially better than dinner, we stayed out till 2 a.m. dancing and drinking.  The next morning we got up early and had our dip in the pool then walked the strip until it was checkout time.  Sadly I had no way of keeping the steak cold on the drive home and ended up throwing out $45 worth of meat in the hotel trash.

I drove us home so the trip took closer to five hours through the desert back into LA.  When we walked through the door of our apartment I felt refreshed.  It had been a brief vacation, hardly even worth noting, but what I remember now, is that even a $45 slab of meat couldn’t ruin a chance to get out of the city even if only for a night.