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by Lina Rehal

The big night had finally arrived. There we were, in Las Vegas at last, getting ready to see Celine Dion at Caesar’s Palace in her celebrated show, A New Day. My husband and I had been looking forward to this trip for months, especially the concert.

Our spacious room at the Bellagio overlooked the lake in front of the hotel and faced the infamous Strip. It was fun watching Las Vegas come alive at night. Looking out at spectacular hotels such as Paris, Aladdin, Bally’s, The Flamingo, The Barbary Coast, New York, New York, and the incredible MGM Grand, we were awestruck by the dazzling lights in this city that doesn’t sleep. From our floor-to-ceiling window, we watched the dancing fountain show below us many times and never tired of it. It is the best free show in town.

We had reservations for an early dinner the night of the show. Wanting to look my best for Celine, I took my time getting dressed. You never know, she might have been able to see me sitting in my seat in the last row of the first mezzanine.

I slipped into a short, low-cut black dress, adjusted the shoulder pads, and made sure there were no tags sticking up in the back. My new black mesh jacket with the green and turquoise sequins dressed it up nicely. I knew wearing pantyhose in temperatures of 110 degrees was a bit over the top, but I needed them to complete the “look.”

Wanting to sparkle, I chose my jewelry carefully. I was in Las Vegas for the first time in my life and about to see a great entertainer in a show at Caesar’s Palace. My gold necklace with the princess cut CZs seemed like an excellent choice. I wore my usual array of glittery rings, large emerald green pear shaped earrings, and a chunky bracelet with marquis crystals that could light up a small room during a power failure.

Then I made my big mistake. The shoes. Black Easy Spirit dress sandals with a thick two-inch heel. I know I’m not used to a lot of walking and that I don’t do well in heels anymore, but what else could I have worn with that ensemble? I wiggled my feet into them, grabbed my sequined bag, and did one more twirl around in front of the mirror. Satisfied with my attire, I was finally ready to go.

My legs ached as we trekked across the walkway to the magnificent Caesar’s Palace. It took longer than I expected due to a lot of construction near that particular hotel. Upon reaching our destination, we went straight to Terrazza’s, an upscale Italian restaurant that had been highly recommended by friends before we left home. We were hungry and looking forward to a nice relaxed meal.

The waiters were extremely attentive and all over us from the minute we sat down. They brought us warm focaccia and seasoned oil for dipping. We sipped on a fine Merlot. The Caesar salad was one of the best I’ve ever eaten. For the main course, I feasted on spaghetti in a plum tomato sauce. Dick had an exquisite veal dish that was difficult to pronounce, but delicious. Too full for dessert, we left the restaurant and made our way to a little bar where Dick sat listening to jazz and enjoying a Sambucca while I browsed through a few shops. Finding a Marilyn Monroe pocketbook I just had to have, I vowed to return.

When it was almost time for the show, we headed over to the Colosseum. People were already lined up on the stairs waiting to get in. My feet were killing me as we joined the crowd and inched along. It was a slow process as all bags were being checked and everyone had to go through a metal detector. Dick teased me about going through it. Surely, all the jewelry I was wearing would set off the alarm.

After that, we were herded onto the escalator. When we got to the level of the first mezzanine, we looked for our section. Dick handed the usher our tickets.

“Oh,” she said. “You’re in a box.”

She turned and opened a door that led to a private row of seating a little to the right of center stage. The first mezzanine only has seven rows. The last one is separated from the rest and enclosed in its own private area. The plush chairs were on casters, enabling us to move back and forth. We had end seats and felt like the two old men in the theater on the Muppets. With plenty of room, I could finally rest my aching feet.

Celine Dion captivated the audience for ninety minutes with her outstanding performance. She sang many of my favorite songs, including The Power of Love and My Heart Will Go On. The concert was indeed the highlight of our trip.

There were no escalators on the way down. Only stairs. Lots of stairs. Once outside the theater, Dick noticed that I was limping. He thought we should head back to our hotel, but I protested. Ignoring the pain in my feet, I led us back to the boutique where I had seen the Marilyn Monroe bag. Dick bought it for me and we left.

Seeing that I was having trouble walking, he suggested we head back to our hotel. Thinking a pair of sneakers would remedy my situation, I said, “I’ll go back in that store and buy a pair of sneakers. Then I’ll be able to walk.” My husband strongly disagreed.

Convinced that sneakers would solve my dilemma, I argued the point. Dick was adamant about heading back to our hotel. By the time I finally realized I wasn’t going to win that one and gave in, we were on the concrete walkway heading back. To my dismay, we couldn’t get a taxi from up there. I had no choice. I had to walk back and in those shoes.

Sharp pains shot through my heels and up my legs. My ankles were swollen. I thought for sure it was fluid and that I had pushed myself into full-blown congestive heart failure. Somehow, I made it back to our hotel, the magnificent Bellagio. My night of glamour and glitz had come to an end.

The minute I walked through the heavy doors into its ornate lobby, I took my Easy Spirits off and tossed them into the shopping bag with my Marilyn Monroe purse. I walked barefooted (except for the pantyhose, of course) through the casino to the elevator, rode all the way to the twenty-eighth floor, got out and hobbled down the long corridor to our luxurious room and flopped on the bed.

Still in my sequined jacket, with my feet propped up on a pillow, I fell asleep thinking – my feet hurt, but once the swelling goes down, we can go back downstairs.

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