Dr. Derek York

Please forgive my absence. When you hear my extraordinary tales of eating and drinking, I believe you will. While this may be delayed, I’d love to share these stories with you in chronological order from beginning to end. So yes, that means you’ll be celebrating my birthday well into the summer, because well, I did an awful lot of celebrating. 

So let’s start from the beginning. Yes, that’s me. In the “Bride To Be” Sash. With the loveliest bridal party a bride to be could ever imagine. Headed up by my very own tour guide – wedding planner – maid of honor, Jaclyn and my partners in crime – Kelly and Andi [who I genuinely think need their own reality show after witnessing them attempt to pack up and get on the road the morning after]. Because really, if you’re going to vacation in Vegas, celebrating your bachelorette party is the only way to do it. And if you’re going to do it, you might as well do it right.

Arriving Saturday morning, we checked in to the Bellagio and immediately kicked off the celebration of my upcoming nuptials to Dr. Derek York – my ironman triathlete/pediatrician from Connecticut doing his residency at Cedar-Sinai. Obviously. [He proposed at the top of the Ferris wheel at the Santa Monica Pier. I know, right?] Heading straight to the pool, Liquid at Aria, we instantly found our home nestled in a cabana, shared with a bachelor party no less. You’d be surprised how many people are eager to convince a blushing bride out of her impending marriage.  Apparently marriage is the biggest mistake I could ever make – according to the married men on a business trip in the cabana next door. Or maybe you’re not that surprised. But my love for Derek is great – and my ring is massive – so I was not easily persuaded. After enough sun, we opted for dinner off the strip at Blue Martini, met the bachelors at Haze followed by a vodka-red bull fueled dance party at Jet. Only to do it all again the next day – Sunday, the day of rest.

So we headed to Rehab. Obviously. And let me say, I have never seen so much steroids and silicon, terrible tattoos and bad decisions in one afternoon - in my entire existence. After spending the day in an episode of the Jersey Shore, we changed out of our bikinis and headed to Bank, then to The Villas at The Mirage where we pranced around in fuzzy house slippers sipping white Russians. Monday we found ourselves back at The Mirage, back in our bikinis, at Bare - the European style pool, complete with a 39 year old train wrecks ribbon dancing the day away, singing karaoke – without a karaoke machine, but rather a plastic fake microphone. Seriously though, I’d like to put a cap on celebrating your birthday in Vegas at 30. Please remind me of this when I’m trying to celebrate the 9^th anniversary of my 30^th birthday in Sin City. Monday night, I fell in love. With this guy. Afrojack has a residency at XS and after making our way to the stage to see the action first hand, it was love at first scratch. Smoking cigarettes and chugging grey goose, Afrojack was unstoppable, and unreal. Be still my heart. But back to Derek. Right. Before pouncing right on to the turn tables, we headed to Marquee, then the obligatory strip club, and ended with a mandatory spin at the roulette table. By Tuesday we were more than ready to go.

 
In a delirious state, we went straight to the airport after lunch and jumped on the first flight available. Returning to reality, and devouring far too much greasy Mexican food any normal person should consume, midnight came and went and I turned twenty four as my maid of honor combed through my knotted, pool party tangled hair, giggling about our trip in to the wee hours of the morning. Because, really, whether you’re turning four, or twenty four, birthday slumber parties never get old.

So if you’re planning on traveling to Las Vegas, whether you’re celebrating a birthday, have a serious gambling addiction, or you’re partying the night away for your last night of freedom – real or not – I offer the following suggestions. Be prepared. Bring snacks. Pack more swimsuits than dresses. Invest in sunglasses that fit into your clutch [when you’re coming home as the sun is rising, you’ll thank me]. Be on the same page, and stick with the story. Keep your real name, you won’t remember your fake one. Don’t buy your own drinks. Don’t pour your own drinks. That’s what having a table is for. Spray tan and apply sunscreen. Make friends. Be safe. And don’t get in the water. Now if only these club beats would stop pounding between my ears. 

P.S. You're all invited to mine and Derek's wedding, next Saturday, April 30th at my family's vineyard. I really hope you can make it. We're registered here.