We figured we’d keep our options for the show open and simply see what’s available Saturday night at a discount ticket events counter near the MGM casino. Mr. W’s brother had purchased and fixed up a new SUV, so he efficiently punched in a search for MGM in the satellite navigation system that he installed himself, and off we went with the two brothers, me, and the parents. It wasn’t until we were almost out of the neighborhood until I questioned, “Why does it say that the destination is 368 miles away and it’ll take us 4.5 hours to get there?” The brothers at the front seat looked at the nav. “It does say that,” the brother said thoughtfully. He punched a few more buttons. The address came up. In California. West Los Angeles. “You selected MGM Studios!” I realized. “Well I’m glad you noticed so we didn’t keep following its directions!” the guys laughed. Yeah. Been there, done that.

After getting to MGM Grand hotel & casino in Las Vegas, Nevada, Mr. W’s brother whipped out his cell phone and called their other brother, who works security at MGM. “Can you see us by the statue? We’re next to your big lion in the lobby.” I tried to make eye contact with the security camera, but didn’t know which of the 15 black domes suspended from the ceiling to look at. Mr. W’s brother then asked, “You guys wanna see the security room?” “Yeah!” I said. And off we went. The security “room” was more a cluster of rooms each with their own purpose. In one were aisles of shelves of VCRs recording for each camera in the building. Another one housed shelves of recorded video tapes. The room I found of most interest was where the guys sit at a low long table, watching a wall of TVs that showed players’ card hands, slot machines, people walking by the stores, the cash register inside a souvenir shop, dealers looking bored waiting for people to place their bets. Computers lined the low table, allowing for control of each camera and keeping records on blacklisted people and slot machines that hit a jackpot. I love behind-the-scenes stuff. I feel so privileged. I even get stories, like about the time when Robin Williams called security and asked them to focus on Camera 17. So they did, and they see Robin Williams licking his lips provocatively, winking at the camera, rubbing his nipples through his shirt, making a gesture like he’s holding a phone to his face and mouthing the words, “Call me!” The security had a huge laugh with that one. They watched as Robin took photos with everyone who walked up to him and asked, and he also took photos of people. Really nice guy, I hear.

So anyway, the show that was available with decent seats that night was the musical Mama Mia! at 10p. So we got 6 tickets and triple-dated. The show was a lot better than I expected it to be. I mean, I didn’t know 90% of the Abba songs as they were before my time (and by that I mean before the time that I spoke English), but I did recognize a lot of the 80s dance moves the goofy characters/actors did onstage. Cabbage patch, kid-n-play, snake, Reebok. Because all the publicity posters showed a dark-haired girl in a wedding dress (think “Muriel’s Wedding”) and the title of the musical is what it is, I thought it’d be a Latin-esque story. But no, it was set in the Greek Isles, a place I really want to see one day, and the storyline was really interesting. I think everyone enjoyed themselves, but not as much as the 4 drunk girls a few rows down from us waving their beers in the air and dancing in their seats.

I had a really fun time this weekend, even tho we’d driven back home already by early afternoon Sunday. And by home, I mean my parents’ home, where we stopped by to help them wax and buff their new wood floors and my mom made a multi-course dinner (with a tiny bit of prep help from me).