Brief summary.

Flight with Iberia. Check in at Hotel 1898. Roof top pool and basement pool/spa/gym, La Fonda restaurant, Marsella bar, Baha beach club, train and cable car to Montserrat monastery, stroke the Black Madonna, funicular to the top of the mountain, train and then Metro back, Flamenco dancing, Sugar Club restaurant, El Bosc de les Fades, Tour bus ride, Sagrada Familia, Nou Camp, Taller des tapas, Metro to Nou Camp, Barcelona match, Old centre, Baha beach club, late night tab, flight back with BA.

Once again our company Christmas soiree had come round and my bosses again humbled us with the generosity of the location of our Xmas trip. Knowing what an organisational geek I am they had let me choose where we would stay and make the arrangements.

Thursday

After about what must have been two or so hours sleep that night I was up at five am. I was excited and must have run through a million times in my mind what I'd packed, what I'd need and what I should and shouldn't have in my hand luggage. Left the house when I meant to at six wearing some new clobber which added to feeling of excitement. Traffic on the A2 seemed busier than I expected it would be at that time and an element of panic kicked in that what if after all my planning I was the one drastically late due to heavy traffic. Thankfully I made good time once off the A2 and picked up a work colleague just when I was supposed to. Onwards to meet up with two bosses where we got a cab to Paddington station.

The sun was now up and we got to Paddington to meet another colleague. It's a great feeling of control when you've got all your clothing and stuff together in the case and hand luggage rucksack. For once I feel highly adaptable that someone could spring a surprise destination on me and I'd just shrug and say 'yeah let's go'. Got on the Heathrow Express which was pretty cool. It was clean, roomy and uncrowded. I even hit the toilet which was amazingly clean and fresh for a train toilet and with things going this well was feeling the anticipation build. I looked good in the mirror, bar the slightly too short haircut, and I felt chipper. Disembarked at the airport with little fuss and having checked in online the previous day sailed through check-in. It helped that we were practically the first ones there. Got some currency while we waited for two remaining colleagues and went through security and passport control when they arrived.

The security guys commented on my Hoff t-shirt and it's always good to identify what does and doesn't illicit a reaction from others. I'd been looking forward to breakfast at the airport's JD Wetherspoons as this would signal the beginning of the holiday and we got ourselves settled and ordered the breakfast. Double egg, sausage, bacon, toast, mushrooms, beans, hash browns and a vodka and orange. The plastic cutlery was disappointing, particularly as I managed to snap both the knife and the fork in half during various points in the meal. Spirits and laughter were high and a full belly only helped. Grabbed an Xbox 360 magazine and a bottle of water from WHSmiths and headed to the plane. It was an Iberia plane heading out and needless to say pre-designating our seats made no difference as the seating plan we had worked to bore absolutely no resemblance to that of the actual plane. The flight was only two hours so as I was at a window seat I tucked my small rucksack between my feet and buckled in.

I love flying. I don't ever want to get bored with it. The notion of everyone strapped in ready to go and the roar of the engines when we start thundering down the runway is just great. After the stern look I got from my mate when we went to Las Vegas I beamed out a smile as the plane swept off the ground and climbed steeply. Watching the ground fall away and the surrounding landscape (although not that stunning) is a killer rush that gets me every time. There wasn't any food or anything brought round but my bottle of water and supply of mint humbugs and chocolate eclairs kept me nicelty entertained on the consumables. Chatted to M about the Xbox 360 as I hadn't really done so since getting it and enjoyed reading the reviews of GOW and COD 3 and preview of Halo 3 in my mag, which re-inforced how I was now part of an elite club.

The stewardesses of Iberia weren't much to look at, not that I'm saying I'm a great looking passenger, and seemed incapable of offering a sincere smile. Plane touched down and it was a lot warmer that any of us had expected. It wasn't boiling but I immediately knew that I wouldn't need to wear the vests that I'd packed. Passed through passport control reasonably easily, apart from myself who unknowingly was standing in the non-european queue. A colleague had advised that it made more sense to get the Aerobus (A1) into the centre rather than the train and her knowledge was born out by the amount waiting as we exited the terminal building. Few of us had change for the ticket machine which I think was 3.75 Euro's each and once of us had to resort to a credit card which I was wary of doing. You know me and credit, the idea of getting screwed over with a credit card minutes into the holiday unnerved me. The bus was quick and easy, straight to Placa de Catalunya and we hopped off and trundled off down Las Ramblas in search of our hotel, Hotel 1898.

I'd produced a fact sheet for all our party with names, telephone numbers, addresses, rough itinerary etc and the directions given to find the hotel were spot on. The hotel was great and I'll give you the splurge they wrote which accurately sums it up.

"Formerly headquarters of the Philippine Tobacco Company, this renovated colonial-style 19th century hotel is located on Barcelona's famous boulevard, La Rambla, 200 metres from Plaça de Catalunya.   Opened in 2006, the marble-floored lobby of the Hotel 1898 is an oasis of calm in the centre of the city, a world away from the bustle of La Rambla. Business travellers and tourists enjoy drinks at the bar and relax on sofas beneath gently whirring ceiling fans. Black and white movies play on a plasma-screen television, setting the tone for a hotel that combines old-world style with modern touches.In summer guests can take a dip in the outdoor rooftop swimming pool, and enjoy views over Barcelona from the sundeck.

The basement houses an indoor pool and health spa offering cardio gym, sauna, steam room, power showers and myriad treatments. Free of use to guests, the rooftop pool and terrace offers sweeping views of the city and out across to the Mediterranean Sea. Complimentary towels are also available, as are sun loungers, and a poolside bar opens from June to October. The health spa in the hotel's basement provides a heated indoor swimming pool with complimentary towels, cardio gym, sauna, steam room, and powers showers. Superior room - One king or two twin beds. Contemporary colonial-style decor with hardwood floor and dark wood furnishings. Pillow menu. Small balcony with views of La Rambla. Plasma-screen TV with satellite channels, complimentary wireless Internet access, minibar, safe, and multi-line phone. Bathrobes and slippers. Marble bathroom with shower/tub combination."

We checked in and headed up to our rooms. As the description implies they were pretty cool. Not big compared to American standards but plenty of storage, very tastefully furnished, plasma on the wall and a wonderful bathroom. Double doors opened to balconette railings facing towards the Meridien hotel. As I'd done in Vegas the previous year I was keen to check out the pool as this for me would be the acceptance that I was in Barcelona and the holiday was on. We did a quick recce to the roof terrace. I knew there was a pool up there but thought it would be closed or empty of water. The only thing closed was just the roof terrace bar and the pool (1 metre deep, about 7.5 metres long and 5 metres wide) was heated to the level of a warm bath. What a result. I knew of the pool downstairs but had never expected this one to be usable. We also checked out the basement pool and spa which were glorious. Sliding doors lead into a wide corridor passing a towel collection/drop off desk. A changing room with showers and lockers, a great pool which had a wonderful bricked ceiling arching over the top. It also has two powerful shower heads, one wide, one narrow, that can act as a massage tool, a corner which is also a jacuzzi and two submerged metal recliners than when activated pump bubbles of air around you body. There was also a well stocked gym with running machine, cycling machine and free weights, a really nice tiled steam room, a sauna and two showers, one of which had a tip-able bucket of iced water for when you wanted added invigoration after stepping out of the sauna. I'd never seen one of these before.

We quickly nipped to the Carrefour supermarket which was on Las Ramblas about 25 metres up the road to grab some water, coke, crisps etc for the room and no one gave us grief about bringing them back into the hotel. Quickly changed into swimming shorts and the supplied slippers and bathrobe and headed up to the roof terrace with M and another colleague. What a blast, all I needed was a cigar and I would have felt like Elliot Gould in Oceans Eleven. I confess it was a little nippy on the terrace in just shorts but once you'd slipped your shoulders beneath the warm water is was brilliant. Well here I was, in a pool, looking up at the early evening blue sky, ready to commence another short holiday. What pleased me as well was how impressed the others were with the hotel I'd chosen. Granted I'd run it by them and they wouldn't have let me pick a dog of a place but it still felt good. We took the lift from the terrace straight down to the basement and took a quick dip in the pool there, along with the sauna and steam room.

All met up in the hotel foyer at 5.30pm and took our first walk down Las Ramblas. It's a cosmopolitan place but not as busy and hectic as I might have expected. It has two narrow lanes of traffic running down the right handside and two narrow lanes running up the left handside. In the middle is a wide thorough fare where street entertainers (the kind that stand motionless on a plinth) are dotted along it in between the occasional newspaper kiosks and collection of tables and chairs from the adjoining restaurants. We passed the 'Monument a Colom' with it's Trafalgar Square like lion statues and took the pedestrian bridge over to the Maremagnum shopping centre. Walking over the bridge we looked down where lights were shining under the water and it was teeming with hundreds of fish. I was up for continuing to walk as I feared that if we stopped tiredness might catch up with me and and I'd crash out. We stopped and that happened. The shopping centre was pretty quiet as it was around 6.00ish and we ordered a mixture of beers and hot chocolates from a bar that we were at. I went for a hot chocolate which was very nice and so thick it was almost like chocolate gravy. The sugar content wasn't enough to keep me ticking over and I could feel my eyes struggling to remain open. At one point I went to the toilet and discovered the worst one of the holiday. It stunk, was dirty and the slow release light switch seemed to only last for about 20 seconds. Hence I ended up conducting most of my urinal session in dank, smelly darkness.

Thankfully we stayed there for about an hour and a half and moving on got the blood flowing round my body. We'd read good reports of a restaurant called La Fonda on Carrer del Escudellers that was inexpensive and very popular. It didn't open until 8.30 yet it was advised to get there early as people started queuing from about 8.00pm. We took the advice and thankfully so as people had started queuing by the time we got there. It's on a pretty dingy alleyway and there were a bunch of suspicious youths congregated at the far end but it wasn't hugely threatening. I was hungry and was keen to get in and get some food in me. We were sat at a circular table, which was highly socialable. The menu was limited but with main course hovering around the 10 euro's mark you couldn't really grumble.

I went for a potato omelette for starters, which was a little bland. I wish I'd had the mixed paella that my colleague had. I wasn't taken on the prawn positioned right in the middle staring out at the consumer but the rice etc was nice. Went for a lamb shank for main course which was good and filling. We were all drinking wine, cava or spirits. I'd ordered a vodka and orange and got my first experience of spanish spirit servings. The Vodka must have taken up about 70% of the glass and the first glass proved hard to take down. The food began to take effect in re-energizing me as did the alcohol as I sailed through my second glass and onto a third. Profiteroles for dessert which were very nice and our conversations became funnier and our laughter louder. We weren't raucous or vulgar but the atmosphere in there isn't stuffy and it seems grounded in a bit more reality than some swanky, piped music, square dinner plate affair. It felt good that all seven of us were in Barcelona. These people who we see daily yet we are together round a table in another country. I think I shot-gunned the third V&O, we settled the bill and took a slow walk back to the hotel. We had a final drink in the fairly expensive hotel bar and those that were tired retired for the night while myself, M and another colleague decided to try out the fabled Bar Marsella, home of the Absinthe.

The guide books had said it was down some dark alleys and they weren't wrong. It's selling of Absinthe had been 'upped' in many places and I was expecting it to be a real mecca for Absinthe drinkers. We walked in and I trotted up to the bar and asked for three Hapsburgs. As any connoisseur will know this is the strongest Absinthe money can buy at a whopping 89.9%. The staff looked at me blankly, I asked what other versions they had and they only sold one, which he didn't even know the name of. I like the effect of Absinthe but really don't like the taste and this was served in like a brandy glass. They provided the sugar and water which I tried to use but it did nothing to improve the taste and I knocked it back in two gulps. If the first V&O at La Fonda had been hard to take down then this was far worse. I was a little disappointed if I'm honest. I had hoped that the shameless name dropping would have granted acceptance to a special level of understanding whereas in reality it was just a very run down bar that happened to sell Absinthe. This badly broken nosed, over produced hair English wide boy latched onto us and seemed to be a club promoter as he hustled us to go onto a club with him. We downed a couple of Jaggermeister (black Veno's like liquid) shots with him and politely declined. The bar was a tired looking hole though the vibe seemed good if a little bohemian.

We decided to head back to Las Ramblas and when we came outside saw this wannabe footballer (the English guy) on his mobile phone. He looked over at us sheepishly and moved away. Something wasn't right and fearing the worst kind of 'hostel' style snatch hurried to the main drag with our senses heightened. Nothing happened and it was probably nothing. Our colleague decided to return to the hotel before the absinthe and two shots hit home and we watched him head with a little weaving back up to the hotel. We then decided to get a cab to the Baha beach club. My research had shown this was a 'sawdust on the floor' type of place and we thought as good a place as any to start the holiday. We decided not to show the taxi driver the address and simply get in the cab and say with confidence the Baha beach club. We assumed that any good cabbie would know the clubs and thought there was less chance of being scammed if we displayed a little savvy. Got propositioned as a cab pulled up by a hooker offering that we share a cab and have some sex together. We declined her considerate offer and jumped in the cab. The shots were now beginning to kick in and I could certainly feel my cheeks began to warm and feel a little tighter. The Baha beach club was in a cluster of   other clubs including CDLC (though I don't remember clearly seeing this) along with Catwalk and Shoko. Catwalk had a big queue and looked very much that is was the kind of place where you might have needed to arrange VIP access and bottle service beforehand as we had done at Pure in Las Vegas the previous year.

We wandered into Baha which wasn't that busy, it was a Thursday night and stayed for two or three drinks. It's probably comparable to a JD Wetherspoon's pub and by this I mean their 'Lloyds bar' variant. Loud, cheesy and doesn't take itself too seriously. The DJ plays from inside a speedboat! The alcohol was really taking effect and feeling that we had given Barcelona a proper welcome decided to head back to the hotel. As we walked up the stairs to leave three girls were coming in and I detected American accents. Right off the bat I asked them where they were from in America, one of them said Ohio to which I replied have you been to Cedar Point. She gave me a beaming smile and instead of continuing the conversation on the stairs we decided to move back into the club. I got in a round and she started chatting to my mate so I commenced on the other two. One of them was an attractive blonde and I was conscious that they were only in their very early 20's and a lot younger than me.

They were interesting to talk to as they were in town as part of what I believe was called a Semester Cruise. Get this, basically their parents had put them on a cruise ship which lasts about 6 or so months where they get to travel round the globe stopping at the major ports. When out to sea they would concentrate on their studies continuing their college courses, and then when docked would be put up in a hotel and allowed to explore. How amazing is that. They admitted they were very lucky and had so far seen Hawaii, Japan, Vietnam, Burma, India, Eygpt, Turkey, Croatia and onto Barcelona. They asked for an email address and hugely frustratingly I didn't have my cards on me. Sod's law is a bitch isn't it? Here was a ship with about 250+ American college students on it, probably occasionally bored and my beacon of light website could have spread through them like wildfire. Would you rather read about Ancient Egypt or my 10,000 word trip report on Las Vegas. The curtain was oh so briefly pulled back on my website at last exploding onto the world stage but was foiled by having left them in my hotel room. I know I could have written it on a napkin but my site demands more respect than that!

They seemed to cool a little, maybe I was becoming so pissed that I was boring but I was genuinely interested in hearing about their travels. They moved off and onto the dancefloor and seemed to play a little hard to get. That shit never works with me as I just became bored. Last thing I saw was some other guys hitting on them. It must have been about 3.30 - 4.00ish now and we decided to head back. The evening air hit me and I realised that I was really stoked. Got a cab back to the hotel and upon getting into the room I had the sense that I needed to make myself sick. I don't like the idea of doing it sober and I don't always do it but I think I've got to a point that when my body hits a certain threshold I know it's better to get it all out of me rather than try to sweat it out over the course of the following day.

Head went down as far into the bowl as I could to avoid blowback (I could have dunked for apples had there been any in there) and blew. A quick rinse and I staggered to the bed. I remember collapsing on it, setting the alarm and getting changed into t-shirts and shorts and thats it. Apparently my mate kindly tucked me in as I'd fallen asleep on top of the sheets. It might have got a little messy in the toilet (ie being sick) but I think I saw in my first day into Barcelona well.

Friday

I felt rough when the alarm went off about four hours later. I hit it on snooze and my ever reliable friend had to give me another push to get me up. I was meant to be meeting my other boss (P) down in the hotel foyer at 9.00 for us to visit Montserrat. It was about 8.40 and I felt like shit. Thankfully I'd pre-planned what I was going to wear when we went to Montserrat and the rucksack had in it all the little bits I needed. The only difficult part was dragging myself into the bathroom and attempting to revive my body. The bath is a good size with a huge showerhead over the top. In my foggy state I couldn't fathom how to turn it on and mindful of the time showered under the small hand-held shower. Washed. brushed, sprayed, dressed and downstairs for 9.05.

We headed off and decided that it might be quicker to walk to Placa d'Espanya to catch the train. They left hourly at 36 minutes past. I felt a little cold, tired and very fragile. P said I looked very pale and seemed to be walking on the balls of my feet. We ended up walking the same distance as two lengths of Las Ramblas and got to the station about two minutes too late. I felt pretty sheepish that maybe if I'd been a little more on time we would have made it but P was very understanding and didn't give me any grief or withering looks. We grabbed some bottles of water and coke and got the tickets. We then went and sat on the wide steps infront of the Palau de la Metal-Iurgia for the next train. God knows how P kept herself entertained as I rested my head on my knees and attempted to get a few minutes of sleep/rest.

Soon enough my time was up and we returned to the station to board the train. Thankfully I realised that we had made a bit of an error and got the ticket which covered the train fare to Montserrat and then the slow mountain train that chugged up the hill. We managed to explain this to one of the guys who kindly resolved the issue and handed us the tickets to cover train ride and cable car. The train journey really helped. I managed to wedge my head, protected by a beanie hat, in between the glass and edge of the seat and get some blissful sleep. With the occasional glug of water I arrived at the Montserrat Aeri station, which is one before the main one, feeling completely chipper and ready to go. First view of the mountain, scenery and monastery perched about two thirds up was pretty impressive and after a short wait we boarded the next cable car.  

We where right on the front and P was a little perturbed by the lack of glass panel directly infront of us. I was excited and couldn't wait to start the journey. It felt like real Where Eagles Dare stuff, especially as I'd never been in a cable car before. It pulled away from the housing and started it's ascent. It was so quiet and gliding along you felt like you could have been in a hot air balloon. It made quite a steep climb and I confess there was an enjoyable hair raising moment as it approached the first support pylon. The ground seems to quickly race up to meet the pylon and also the bottom of the cable car and there were quite a few sharp intakes of breath as we seemed to pass within a whisker of the rock for the ground to then literally drop away once past it. Great. The monastery area was pretty cool and very big. It did have a road that came up to it which must have snaked down the backside of the mountain and the complex was pretty big in size. It had an air of peace and tranquility and wasn't heaving with masses of people which was really nice. The day was clear, though when we looked up to the summit we could see cloud moving over and brushing the top.

We had a gander round and tried to figure a way in before spying some steps next to the information office that led up to a courtyard. From here you could enter the main abbey. It was hushed and we were respectful. Neither of us are very religious but we decided to check out the statue of the Black Madonna which is the main tourist draw. We queued in muted, yet not total silence to file past the statue. There is a lot of glitz and gold tiling etc and the actual statue is encased in glass with only her hand and accompanying ball able to touch. There was an American woman in front who took an age photographing it, which I didn't mind, but what was funny was how after we stepped in after and started rubbing the ball as I'd read this is what you should do, well ok touch the ball, she felt compelled to check back and do the same. You could see she had no idea why she was doing it but she clearly didn't want to miss out on the complete 'experience'. We also lit a candle each and said our prayers mine involving something along the lines of untold happiness, wealth, buxom wenches, a good lunch and Halo 3 to deliver the goods.

I was feeling great. The fresh air, sleep on the train and chenelle jumper from Tescos was doing me a power of good. New clothes can feel great and the fact that this jumper was big, snugly and warm made me feel I could take on any weather. We took the funicular up to the summit, which is 4,000 feet above sea level and the views were even more breathtaking. They say on a clear day that you can see the coast and even Ibiza. It was a clear day but we couldn't see that far though to be fair we didn't go right to the very top. Signposts indicated that the summit, Saint Jerome, was an hours walk away. We plumped for another chapel which was meant to be 20 minutes away. The air was so clean and fresh, I felt invigorated and initially we were walking through mist as the passing clouds grazed the top of the mountain. The path to the chapel was closed so we ventured a little off track to take a pew on a rocky outcrop, take in the view and a swig of coke. The name Montserrat literally means 'jagged mountain' and there was an area to our right that could have been the spiky spines of a dragon descending down to the ground. It was a cathartic moment and blew away the residue of the previous nights excesses. It was also a reminder how expensive nights can be fun but also the simple things like a far reaching view have their own merits.

We grabbed a couple of photos before heading down the funicular to the monastery complex for a spot of late lunch. The canteen there was well stocked and the food looked fresh. I went for some pork with small jackets halves whilst P went for some pizza and assorted tapas. We followed this with a mooch around the souvenier shop. As expected it was full of assorted tatt including plastic images of the Black Madonna, rosary beads, chanting monks CD's and garish looking plates and saucers. We picked up a Montserrat snow dome for one of our colleagues, some hand made chocolate which turned out to be as hard as anything and probably useful to replace Kendal Mint Cake if ever stranded on the side of a mountain and finally a rather fetching glow in the dark statuette of the Black Madonna to sit atop our new safe. We'd spent a good few hours there and decided to head back. The cable car back down was a little more hair raising as you were naturally inclined to be looking down on the return trip and thus maybe more aware of the height.

P snoozed on the way home and upon getting back to Placa Espanya we decided to take the Metro. Bearing in mind the more than occasional but less than frequent sewage smell that exists in Barcelona I expected the Metro to be dirty, smelly and hot. I couldn't have been further from the truth. A suited Barcelonian assisted us with our ticket purchase, the platform had an arrival countdown to the next train and the carriages themselves were clean, perfumed and air conditioned. Back to the hotel, had a chat with M whilst necking a Red Bull and hammering a large bag of ruffles from Carrefour, god they are moreish, before heading downstairs to the spar for a swim in the pool, use of the hydrotherapy chair and sauna. We'd made plans to do stuff this evening and I wanted to take the chance to really relax and I did. After the hot sauna I even braved the ice bucket shower. There was a little trepidation and hesitation at pulling the lever but about 10 seconds after the shock had passed the skin tingled making it all worthwhile. I checked out the private showers and they looked great so I quickly scooted back to the room to grab shower gel etc. What a great shower. It had about four different variants of which I settled on this fat streamed, white water version which was wonderful. There was buckets of room, the heat was just right and it also allowed my room mate the comfort of being able to shower in our room at his leisure.

We hooked up in the hotel foyer again at around 7.30 for a quick drink and then trotted down Las Ramblas to attend the Flamenco dancing at Tablao Flamenco Cordobes. I'm aware some on Tripadvisor said that this place was very touristy but at the end we wanted to see an example of Flamenco dancing and this was within walking distance and on the way to our after event restaurant. The venue of the flamenco was nothing special, it looked a little tired and they can feed you as well in a separate dining area. We went straight for the first performance at 20.15 and were shown to our seats. The room in which it was being performed was quite small and seated in a 'first in sits at the far end and then work back' effect. As we'd got there close to the performance time we were three rows back but effectively slap in the middle of the stage (well I was anyway). It was quite an impressive performance. I hadn't realised that it was so tap dancing based and was like a spanish riverdance but without the lights, sweeping music, fixed grins and huge acts. No, this was a little more intimate and you were certainly close enough to see the acted contempt in the women's faces when they danced and the bulging veins in the temples of the guys as they passionately belted out their wails, sorry songs, of lost love or whatever it was. I don't know what it is about flamenco but   bar the occasional spoken 'OIe' it does seem to require every male singer to sing his lines just outside the natural limit of   his voice. I'm sure it   gets across the passion and angst but certainly at the beginning seeing a guy nearly bent over with a crimson face nailing out an ode to a local honey is quite alarming.

Once you are confident they are not going to die from a broken blood vessel but rather a broken heart your attention can turn back to the women. They are certainly all steely gazed when dancing and very serious.   They have also perfected the handclap which combines a clap followed by a twisting wipe. I spent a good 10 minutes trying to figure out if this was done to remove sweat to keep the clap audible or some form of RSI deterrant. The women twirl and tap a plenty while the two guys, one wearing a red shirt that was still sweat/salt encrusted from an earlier performance, are very dominant with plenty of stern faces, aggresive footstamps   and dramatic   thrusting of arms to the ground. I confess it's very dazzling and once I'd warmed to the hard faced mommas could appreciate it for the energetic, rythmic entertainment that it was. Overlooking the dreadful Sangria they served as the token 'free drink' and slightly shabby presentation it was good fun and although far removed from what purists would call 'real flamenco' we all seemed to enjoy it.

From here we took a walk down to the Sugar Club which is a restaurant in the World Trade Centre that then turns into a nightclub. It had a nice view out over the marina and towards Maremagnum. The decoration was a little cliched with lots of drapped sheets from the ceilings and subtle hues of dark pinks and blue. It had some booths up against the wall and one imagined that it took itself very seriously. For a Friday night and a late serving, table had been booked for 10.15, it was less than half full. It had an air of pretension which followed through into the service, which I've got to say was appalling. The waiter would forget drinks, bring out courses at different times and do the classic 'I don't need to write things down because I can remember' and then promptly forget orders. Others in my party enjoyed the food but I was distinctly underwhelmed. Before the starters they served what we believed to be a complimentary cold curry sauce-like drink. We hadn't asked for it and initially thought it a nice touch until we discovered that they had charged us for it! My main was lamb and it wasn't good. The main meat had a layer of gristle running through it that made it feel like I was chewing a piece of wet suit and that made the loud crunchy sound that only you could hear when attempting to bite down on it.

After four mouthfuls, and having had to discreetly eject one of them, I closed my knife and fork in disgust. I didn't want to ruin or spoil anyone else's meal and seem a grumpy bastard. Another colleague was happy to finish my dish and didn't seem to object to the lamb. Maybe his teeth are better than mine. Dessert was a nice chocolate steamed pudding with hot chocolate sauce oozing out once you punctured the dome. Again though the cocky waiter didn't bother to write the order down and hence delivered six desserts to a table of seven. I glared at him and by this point was becoming royally cheesed off with his lacklustre attitude. They began to clear the tables away in preparation for the club and we requested the bill. It was here that we discovered the inclusion of the unrequested starter. Had we been in the UK and able to articulate our disgruntlement I think it would have gone further but realising the language barrier would make it too hard settled and left. Outside the club was an area cordoned off with a braided rope. This area must have been able to hold hundreds and bearing in mind there was only about 50 in the club when we left at 12.30ish I think they were being a little ambitious. We walked back to Las Ramblas and didn't pass a soul so god knows how they get their trade. Very disappointing.

The night was still young and we decided to grab a drink in the fabled El Bosc de la Fades. This is located right next to the waxwork museum just off Las Ramblas and features a couple of dark rooms with knarled trees, imitation grottos and even a little bridge with stream. It was quite lively in there but for Barcelona seemed to close really early. Well I guess it was probably 1.00 ish by this point. We all grabbed a final few nightcaps in the hotel bar and I felt the need to retire around 3.00 as sleep was desperately calling me.

Saturday

Saturday was going to be a slightly more relaxed day with a later start and the chance of a more sedate morning. Four of us agreed to meet in the foyer and try out the Bus Turistic routes which leave from Placa Catalunya. We got waylaid by a salesman from the orange bus company, don't know their exact name, who hit my colleagues with a salespin about how his service offered just one big round route rather than Bus Turistic's two different routes. I was a little wary and displayed it but my colleagues thought it a good idea so went for it. Two of them went with him up to an office to arrange payment which kinda unnerved me but everything was fine and we waited for the next bus. We got right at the back on the uncovered top deck and although provided with headphones which plugged into the seat infront with a commentary I decided against them. The sound kept fading in and out and I thought sod it I'll just enjoy the view.

The city does have some interesting architecture but if I'm honest a lot of it seems to sit out of place with it's surroundings. Some of the Gaudi stuff looks crazy and even moreso when flanked by bland, average buildings. It could have done with whole areas having a consistent architectural theme rather than this haphazard approach which to me just looked plain messy. We stopped at Sagrada Familia to take a look around this multi spired monstrosity. First impressions are impressive but when you look closer it seems a mix-mash of styles. Individual areas look very good and the intricacy of the designs are a sight to behold but when pulled back the whole picture it does look a tad disjointed. I had hoped to be able to race up the inner steps of the spires but these were closed, probably as a friend said due to their dangerousness. We paid our admission fee to enter the church which had even more scaffolding on the inside than it did on the outside. The whole thing is due for completion in 2020. The interior did have more of a theme to it and was a lot more awe inspiring. Although no one was working you can see the level of detail that is being used on it and hence why it will take so long to be finished. With it's vast high ceilings and arches is looks like something out of Lord of the Rings and I think will be genuinely stunning when completed.

We did check out underneath the church where there is an exhibition/stroke museum of the works done and still to be done. It's probably heresy to say but not having been blown away by the cathedral I found it all a little tedious though   the smaller scale models did give a better indication as to what the finished article might look like. It echoes what I   said earlier. The cathedral, although interesting just seems to have been plonked in this area with the surrounding buildings not lending themselves to it.

We hopped on the next bus which mades it's way up and to the North of the city. Myself and another colleague (N) got off at the Nou Camp to go on the museum tour. I enjoy watching but only really the big international games but my work colleague was very much into it and I knew how much he wanted to see the stadium. It's the third biggest in the world so held a certain fascination for me as well. When back at the office I had checked to see whether Barcelona were playing, which unfortunately they weren't yet there seemed a lot of activity around the stadium. Could they be playing we wondered? We then saw a sign saying that the last museum tour would end at 5.00pm in preparation for the evening game. Sweet Jesus, could they be playing on the Saturday night we were there. My excitement levels began to bubble and a huge smile grew across the face of N.

We headed over to the ticket office and sure enough, they were playing. FC Barcelona vs Villa Real at 8.00pm. I couldn't believe it. We had nothing planned that evening and the only thing better than seeing a stadium that holds 100,000 is one actually holding 100,000. Tickets were still available and a quick ring round to the gang confirmed that five of us wanted to attend. We studied the seating / price plan to work out the best seats but not neccesarily the most amount of money. N put them on his card and we were done. Five tickets to see Barcelona play that night at the Nou Camp. I was stoked and so was he. We headed down to the club store to get some bits in our post ticket purchase glow. I had brought my gilet with me on the holiday. It is dark blue on the outside and bright orange within. It is also reversible. Knowing my penchant for fluoro everyone, including my brother, had told me that I should never wear it inside out yet Barcelona's away kit was fluoro orange. I decided to buy a club beanie that was bright orange and wear it into the hotel with the gilet turned inside. How could they complain, I was just wearing team colours. We joined up with our colleagues back at the hotel at just after 3.30pm and they groaned at my luminescence. Feeling very hungry we headed over to a place called Taller de Tapas in Place Sant Josep Oriol.

It was a modern looking place and we managed to get a table for six towards the back. We were all really hungry and ordered a load of stuff. Chorizo in cider, fillet steak, potato like wedges, cod block (cold and unpleasant), chick peas, sausages, croquettes and other bits that I can't remember. I had seen on the web how they also did a plate of chorizo, chips and a fried egg. Knowing my simple tastes my colleagues had drawn my attention to this which I also duly ordered. It came on a plate the size of a sideplate and was mucho yummy, so much so that I ordered it again as soon as I'd finished it. It was a nice meal. Again we were all sat round a table and all diving into the food that kept being placed down in the middle of it. We grabbed some dessert, myself some profiteroles which were very enjoyable, and then returned to the hotel. Fearing a mad panic and rush later on we stopped in at the Metro to get the tube tickets for the evenings travel to the game. Whilst queuing we briefly chatted to some American girls who were going to the game. Amazing really and full credit to them that although they didn't know the game they were still going along to experience it and also all had enough money to have obviously kitted themselves out with the necessary apparel to show support. They were obviously from the semester cruise and had we a little more time I would love to have chatted a little more but were we hurried along by a rude Irish woman who grumbled because there was only one ticket machine working.

Back at the hotel I managed to grab what would be my final trip in the pool, sauna and ice bucket shower along with another trip to that wicked shower. We hooked up with everyone at 7.15 in the foyer, myself looking fetching and rather bright in my fluoro beanie and inside out gilet. The metro ride there was fine. It was a little crowded but not awash with the amount of fans that we had expected it would be. We got off at Les Corts and joined the crowds that were walking towards the stadium. There was an air of excitement yet still not the numbers that I expected to fill a stadium that holds 100,000 people. The stadium came into view like an impressive beacon of light and we came to our respective entry point, which handily enough was on the side we approached it from. Everything seemed well organised and we found our entry point reasonably well. Descending down into the belly of the stadium the excitement of seeing the stadium from the inside was really building up, like wanting to see the view from the top of a mountain. N was hugely excited which was great to see. We found our seating area and walked up the stairs. Wow, that's a big stadium but what was more amazing was how our seats where literally three rows from the touchline and about 5 metres down from the half way line. You could smell the grass we were so close to it and I couldn't believe we were actually there. Here we were taking a city break in Barcelona yet fate had decreed that we were going to see a game in the Nou camp.

The atmosphere was really great and no hint of the testorone charged mood that you might experience at a British game. I had a mother and her daughter sitting to my right and an old guy in his 60's sitting to my left. The ticketing was a little haphazard meaning that the two girls had to sit about four rows back but at least they were together and I kept looking back to make sure they were ok. M and N were sitting in front of me with a young boy sitting between them. With about 20 minutes to go the stadium only looked about half full yet by kickoff it must have been 90% full. The footballers came out and it was incredible to be able to see Ronaldhino who I've seen on TV, standing about 10 metres away from me. The game was really entertaining. I thought Villa Real might be a wash over and I guess the final result gave that impression but they did put up a fight. The game had it all. A penalty, flair from Ronaldhino, good passing and a clutch of goals from Barcelona pleasingly scattered over the 90 minutes so it didn't become boring. In the 88th minute and being 3-0 up a ball was floated over to Ronaldhino. I watched him track the ball downwards, turn round and plant a peach of an overhead shot right into the back of the net. Sweet Jesus. Seeing a game in the Nou Camp and Ronaldhino pulling off a trick goal, could it get any better. 90,000+ fans took voice with chants of his name and I rightly so joined in. What genius and what a poke in the eye for those audience members who had started filing out before the end.

We left the stadium and again although busy, everything was safe and ordered. I have to commend the Spanish or Catalans for their organisational abilities in handling so many people. Over here and I'd imagine with just 100 people there would be queues etc. Went back to the hotel for a quick drink and slip into something else and then headed over to the Gothic Quarter. One of the girls knew of a bar that sold cider and upon reaching it we got the drinks in. The service was so good ie two barman getting in the drinks that even though I asked for four pints of lager, ended up with seven. Along with the complimentary first bottle of cider and my Baileys it was a cheap round. We all had a good time in there. The girls were getting a little tipsy as they ploughed through another bottle and then decided to try some of the wide range of tapas that was decorating the entire bar. Come closing time we even had a guy come over who was with another group and started singing an assortment of tunes such as 'Don't stop me know' etc. Went back to the hotel bar again for another and then M and I decided to try and squeeze in a final club as it was our last night. Grabbed a cab back to the Baha beachclub and bearing in mind their prolific distribution around the city were hopeful that we might get the chance to chat to some more Americans.

As we were approaching the club four girls walked past that were clearly American and although we tried to loudly discuss our fondness for Americans they didn't pick up on it. I should have been more blunt and just stopped them but we hoped there might be some more in the Baha. In reality there wasn't and I guess they'd all probably done their research on the early nights and had now moved onto the better clubs. We would have gone into them but neither of us were prepared to queue for at least half an hour outside any of these. There wasn't really much happening in Baha and after a couple we decided that we'd given it a fair crack and it was time to call it a night. Left the club at about 3.00pm but finding a cab proved virtually impossible. People seemed to be moving further along to grab the rare one that came past and in frustration we decided we would simply 'tab' it back.

We started jogging down the seafront which was wide and well lit and I'm sure during the day it would be very pleasant. We carried on jogging in stages and thought remaining beside the coast would be the sensible thing to do. Before too long though we realised that we were in the dock area and had no way of getting back across to the other side. This was a less than salubrious area and we were quick to retrace our steps and work our way back round the dock to the correct side. It wasn't cold and with the wide esplanade it could have made for a nice stroll though at the time I was really only concerned with getting back to my comfy bed. Hit Las Ramblas which even at that time wasn't deserted and still had people other than hawkers and hookers on it. Looking at the map I think we jogged/walked back a distance of about 6-7 km. Got in and quickly flicked on Sky sports to see the headlines which as hoped showed the overhead goal that we had seen earlier. Wicked.

Sunday

We had deliberately packed up most of our stuff the night before so once I'd had a final shower in the spa downstairs and had a quick scoot round the room we checked out with little fuss. A great hotel overall that I could not  recommend highly enough. The rooms must have been cleaned two or three times a day, the cleaning staff always smiled and had the courtesy to look up, the rooms were modern and classic at the same time, the bathrooms without fault, the facilities were excellent including the spa which was just fantastic and it's positioning could not have been better. I would find it hard to consider another hotel if I went back to Barcelona bearing in mind how comprehensive it is.

We took the bus back to the airport, checked in and then ate some pretty bland food in one of the eateries there. The flight back was with BA and felt a lot better. The service was slightly more cheerful and we also got a little snack. Granted it was only a sandwich but combined with a bag of Ruffles and a bottle of coke that I'd bought I was happy. Managed to have a little accident with it when I opened the bottle and the change in pressure made it fizz up and across my open magazine. I was a little trapped to be honest with my ipod on, tray down and seatbelt on. Thankfully my mate had seen my spillage and once he's stopped laughing managed to hand me a couple of tissues to soak up the moving lake of coke that was threatening to run off and into my lap. Got the Heathrow Express back to Paddington, a black cab to my car and then drove home.

All in all I had a really great time. The hotel was great and we all did a variety of different activities with different individuals to make you feel you had some of your own personal memories. I think highlights for me would be the first splash around in the rooftop pool as this was an indication of definately being in Barcelona and the holiday starting, our socialable first meal in La Fonda, trip to Montserrat, Flamenco dancing and seeing Barcelona play at the Nou Camp.

Las Vegas. November 2005

Brief summary

Flight with Virgin, check in at Bellagio, Bellagio pool and Jacuzzi, Caesars, Forum shops, Cheesecake factory, Ellis Island karaoke, Las Vegas outlet centre, In 'n' out burger, Gun store, Top of the World restaurant, Barry Manilow at the Hilton, VIP table service at Pure, Caesars Palace, Fashion Show mall, northern strip walk, freefall tandem parachute jump, dinner at Morton's, Penn & Teller at The Rio, check out, flight home.

Thursday

Eight work colleagues went and it was brilliant. It had been booked about six months previously and I'd used that time to research what I thought was good and created a loose timetable so I'd know when, what and where to go. The last two weeks had even seen the office filled in the morning and evening with a playing of 'Time to say goodbye' as I'd read that this was one the songs that accompanied the Bellagio fountain show.

Thursday morning came with a 4.15 am wake up after a night where I only really grabbed about an hour or two of sleep. I was excited but think was more concerned about oversleeping, despite having three different alarms dotted around the room to ensure I got up. Anyway I picked up a close living work colleague, hooked up with some others and after dropping off the car got a train down to Gatwick. We checked in, got some currency from Travelex and equipped ourselves with some breakfast. I'd been holding off on my intake of food before Vegas just in an effort to keep trim but was adamant that in the land of steaks and burgers the cuffs would come off. Hence the first breakfast was a nice double egg, sausage, bacon, beans, toast, mushrooms and chips feast washed down with two cups of tea. This was getting good, the suitcase was handed over and thus no longer a responsibility, my belly was full and content and we were getting closer to going to Vegas. Final mooch around the shops and we boarded the plane.

We were in a row of six towards the rear of the plane and I had an aisle seat which suited me fine. I'd been looking forward to seeing what the air stewardesses were like as I'd never travelled with Virgin and they are legendarily supposed to be good looking. They were and I tried my best, without being annoying, to be polite and humorous to obtain a glimmer of warmth from them but alas to no avail. C'est la vie but they couldn't dampen my enthusiasm. The plane rumbled down the runway and lifted off to a loud 'whoooh' from myself which received a stern look from my friend who was sitting next to me. It was a bit loud and I admit probably was annoying for others but this was the moment when Vegas was starting (bar landing of course) and I couldn't contain my excitement. The flight proceeded ok and I remained buoyant and bubbly throughout the 10 hour journey. The food was enjoyable, braised beef with some nice pots, carrots and broccoli and a profiterole dessert that was mucho yummy. I know some think airplane food muck, but to me it's free and passes the time so I was all for enjoying it. Tried to watch a film on the scratched and poor resoluted screen, 'Land of the Dead' which was ok but a poor entry in the zombie genre I feel. I also spent some time wandering around the plane and looking out the window towards the rear. The scenery was great, it might not have been stunning at some of the points I looked out but it was just the size of the country that was amazing. Wilderness would stretch as far as the eye could see yet snowed over roads appeared to still have been cleared despite the fact that only a few people might use them. The plane began its descent and the scenery became even better as we flew over the Hoover Dam and Lake Mead.

We touched down and the first glimpses of the Luxor and Mandalay were causing my excitement levels to peak in the red. We hurried off the plane and then spent an eternity in the immigration queue. By the time we got out of the queue I was the second to last person to go through but I understand the need for security and wasn't hugely fussed. Collected luggage and boarded the last shuttle to leave the airport. Interesting drive with the driver seemingly oblivious to her passengers and rambling with her co driver about the wayward ways of her daughter. She connected with us when I excitedly pointed out a motorcycle cop that looked like CHiPs and we all chatted on the remainder of the journey. It did make us chuckle and I was busily craning my head round to observe every different building and car that went past. Got to the Bellagio and swung into the car port with my excitement at virtual fever pitch. As we unloaded our suitcases from the shuttle the fountain show started up (not that we could see it from where we were) and the strains of 'Time to say goodbye' wafted over us. I was amazed, the very song that I'd been playing in the UK to prep us for the holiday was playing just as we arrived.

We entered the foyer and I just wandered through with my mouth open. It was wonderful. Vibrant, classy, buzzing with people milling around of different backgrounds and it smelt just so good with a mixture of citrus and fresh cut flowers. It had such a great feel to it, like you just wanted to sit down and take in all that surrounded you and just watch the world go by. I could see the conservatory but didn't want to venture in there while we were checking in and leave the others. I could also see across the casino floor which looked a mass of activity and combined with the pianist playing in the Petrossian bar I confess to being pleasantly overwhelmed. We got our room allocation and headed off through the casino to the lifts with myself constantly circling as I tried to take everything in. Our room, that I shared with a good friend was on the 27th floor, room number 103. What a great room, large and spacious with a marble foyer, remote controlled drapes and nets (which I accidentally shut as I thought it was a light switch), plenty of wardrobe storage and a nice big TV. The beds were huge and comfy (certainly when I flung myself onto them) and the view from the window was great. Ok I wasn't looking over the strip but I was looking at the back of Caesars and its pool, the Rio and the mountains in the distant and the view became even better at night. Oh and did I mention the bathroom. I clapped my hands together and laughed when I saw the huge glass walled shower, the deep bath and the proliferation of big white towels. Oh baby.

One of our party called the room and we agreed to head down to the pool as we had discussed over that mornings breakfast. I slung on my robe and shorts and off we went. What a fabulous pool. It shut at 5.00 pm and we got there at about 4.15 but those 45 minutes were grand. The pool was lovely and warm, not too deep and lovingly detailed with underwater lights and the pattern inset into the tiling. Every time I drew breath I would look up at the hotel and shake my head not believing that, yes here I was actually swimming in the pool of the Bellagio. As the sky got darker the buildings lighting played more of a part in its beauty and it grew even more picturesque. We finished here and dived into the Jacuzzi. Well if the pool was great then this was fantastic. Even warmer water and strong bubbly jets that when you were close up to them gave you a great tingly massage over one's tired limbs. God I felt so privileged thinking wow, here I am reclining in a warm, oversized Jacuzzi looking up at the Bellagio in the Nevada desert air.

I returned upstairs to get ready for our first night out in Vegas. My room mate had already showered and headed downstairs so I took the time to crank up the Bellagio music channel (number 31) and jump in the shower. I've not been to that many hotels so being able to take the time to prepare for a night out with in a huge roomy shower, with plenty of towels, no worries about how they would dry and some music playing was a real luxury that I enjoyed savouring. Although I'd been up nigh on 25 hours I felt great and that feeling of getting ready for a night out seemed to banish all thoughts of jet lag. I was on 'going out time' and my body was fine with that. I dressed in black velvet trousers and a nice white striped shirt and headed downstairs to hook up with the others in the Petrossian bar. Everything felt so right, the pianist was playing, people dressed for the evening were milling around along with the odd newly wed couple and I felt elevated to a very special club.

We had decided our first meal would be the cheesecake factory so we left the hotel and wandered down to the strip to take in the fountain show. They played some kind of 'I love America' song and the fountains were great. They are like a tidy, clean firework display with the same kind of whooshing sound and similarly eliciting 'oh's and aah's' but without the smoke or debris. I left them feeling warm inside and looking forward to seeing them again. We then walked to Caesars. Blimey this place is massive and although it could be construed as being a little tacky it has an ebullience and energy that you can practically taste. From the strip it's huge and very impressive and after passing through its doors it just seems to go on forever. We managed to follow the signs through to the forum shops and eventually found the cheesecake factory. The ceiling in the forum was just mad. We all stopped and stared and tried to work out if the ceiling was actually moving, it wasn't but it was so cool in how the changing light was affecting the painted clouds. We booked a table and split up to individually explore the mall with myself checking out the exotic car place. You can't view the cars up close but there is a fenced walkway around the edges and there are some cracking motors including a few wonderful Ferraris, a lovely silver Lambo Gallardo and a couple of Murcielagos.

Headed back to the cheesecake factory and got a table. The service here was excellent. Warm, friendly and helpful. I'd been warned about the huge portions so we settled for one chicken starter between the eight of us which was very nice and then all seemed to have a selection of burgers. I had the ranch burger which was big but I wouldn't say absolutely massive. It basically had bun, burger, chunks of steak, mushrooms, cheese and bacon slices (I'd asked for the healthy inclusion of tomato and lettuce to be removed) and was very tasty. The accompanying fries were very nice but I didn't think there were enough of them. Being in the gambling town we started to bet amongst the eight of us how old certain members of the staff were. For every person we guessed another one would appear, we would ask their name, get them to hold up the back and front of their hands and then ask them to return in three minutes. Everyone would chuck in a dollar to the pot, we'd all take turns and then relay them to the staff. It sounds silly but it was fun and with the good nature of the staff I think they enjoyed it as well. There was one poor girl though called Rosa who worked on the front desk. She came round, showed us her hands and then disappeared before returning 3 minutes later. We went round the table with ages ranging from 26 to 34 only for her to tell us she was 19!! Poor thing, she laughed with us but I hope she wasn't insulted. I ordered the original cheesecake because there were so many cheesecakes to choose from that I thought starting with the original would be the best. The waiter gave a nod of approval as he jotted down my request which made me smile. Two others ordered cheesecakes but couldn't finish them. Mine was very nice but suddenly my stomach began to close up and I couldn't finish it either (maybe that's why they only gave a smaller portion of fries!!) The others at the table began to goad me and started chucking in money to bet I couldn't finish the cheesecake. The pot hit $46 and I just went for it, who wouldn't? My glass of water helped and I even licked the plate to demonstrate my victory. Stomach was a little tight but what a sweet 46 bucks. We paid and left and two of our party had booked the helicopter flight to the Grand Canyon starting at 5.00 am so they hit the sack and the rest decided what to do.

I said I just wanted to check out Ellis Island and see what the karaoke was really like as I read reports that said it was a bit dingy. The others said they couldn't let me go on my own so tagged along. We headed off past Ballys to Koval Lane. As we proceeded further down the road you could see it becoming less glamorous. We didn't feel threatened but you could tell it wasn't as nice as the strip. Then we saw it, right next to the 7-11 and I began to have grave doubts. We continued on and strode in and wished we hadn't. We didn't feel intimidated but it was definitely a locals place and was a little cramped, dark and dingy. The guy singing was good but we felt a little unnerved probably like the two backpackers did in the film 'American Werewolf in London' when they walked into 'The Slaughtered Lamb'. I quickly bought a round, $1 a beer, and we vacated the establishment pronto. As I left I looked back and saw a guy playing the slot machine wearing a baggy, stained white wife beater vest and a pair of black, belt less trousers. Very disappointed and we scuttled back to the strip as quickly as we could. I was looking forward to going a little mad on our first night but after pushing to go to such a shit hole my credibility for choice of things to do was a little strained and I felt a little embarrassed for pushing us to visit a dump. The people were ok and I'm sure if we were more 'jeaned up' and fitted in more we would have seen real locals enjoying themselves but as it was it was a jarring difference to the world we had just been baptised to. We gambled a little bit in the Bellagio casino. I put $100 down on the blackjack table and played for about 25 mins losing about 30 bucks and then retired to the room at about 2-30-3.00 ish.

Friday

Awoke around 8.00 ish, showered (still loving the ease of the shower) and met the two who had gone on the helicopter tour of the grand canyon the first thing in the morning. They'd had a great time and thought the Grand Canyon stunning. We jumped in a cab and headed down to the Las Vegas Outlet Centre. Ok place although it is a little 'low rent' which I'd expected. The other two headed back to the strip after ½ an hour as I was still mooching around. I'd been to Canada/American about six years previously and had kicked myself for not buying more items. I had a really good look around but just couldn't find things that I really liked. I then found myself fretting that I was trying to convince myself that I should buy something for something's sake as opposed to actually liking it. Wandered round the large Nike store but couldn't find anything that really fired me up. Headed outside to grab a taxi while I ummed and ahhed about whether to head to the fashion show mall or check out In'n'Out burger.

I'd read a lot about this before going and was really looking forward to checking it out, liking the idea of its refreshing simplicity. Just selling only burgers, fries and drinks should offer a better attention to detail as there are fewer things to distract from the menu. The cab dropped me off at the one on Dean Martin Drive and I had a nice chat with him en route. What a great place In'n'Out burger was. It was busy and vibrant with a real hubbub, energy and atmosphere to it. I loved the way they called customers guests and I moved to the desk to order my food. Double, double without the lettuce and tomato, fries and I wanted to order something from the secret menu so I'd feel a little special and thus went for a Neapolitan. Got my ticket and waited. How cool I thought to be able to wait for your order while they prepped it. It also gave me a good opportunity to do some people watching and bask in the moment. My number was called and I collected my food. It's great that it comes in those little red bucket tray things to prevent spillage etc of chips and as it was a nice day I decided to eat outside. Settled down with my shades on, jumper off, took a photo of it on my phone as the camera was with another in the party and then took my first bite. Oh god it was good. Yes the little wrapper wrapped around the backside of the burger was a little greasy but we are talking a burger here and you have to get a little dirty when enjoying a burger. It was just so juicy and succulent with the chopped onions and the toasted inside of the burger adding a little crunch. The fries were great as well, hot and freshly cut and the Neapolitan milkshake was excellent. Nice and thick so it took a fair chunk of sucking and then it would offer at different times during its consumption hit's of individual chocolate, strawberry and vanilla almost like some kind of Willy Wonka chocolate bar. After this I hit the store next door, keen to get some souvenirs especially now that the meal had lived up to the hype and also because I remember seeing Mikey wearing one in the film Swingers. Chose one for me my brother and one for myself after trying them on and debating what sizes, along with some key rings and a large handled mug.

I'd called some of the gang earlier and we agreed to meet at the Gun store on east Tropicana at 2.00pm to fire some guns on their range. I then had the task of getting across town and finding a cab. Needless to say there weren't any at In'n'Out so I struck out towards the strip to find a cab. Crossing the crossroads junction by the burger place must have taken me about 15 minutes. It's never entirely clear when you get a green man or walk signal how other cars can still turn into the road and it also seemed to take an age for the lights to change. Not a great deal of people walk I think. Anyway got across the road and over the interstate bridge, ducking past a homeless tramp who'd obviously lost it all on 'red' but didn't get a chance to douse me in an alcohol cloud while demanding money. Hurried down to the Excalibur (closest hotel) and jumped in a cab which then pulled round to the front of the hotel and said he had to wait until the cab in front had moved. I said fine I'll get in the cab in front and even though he'd only carried me about 10 metres told me I had to pay the standing charge of $3. I bundled into the next one and asked him to head to the gun store. He seemed a bit morose but I tried to jolly him along by talking about In'n'Out burgers (my fallback conversation piece with any cab driver it now seemed!) and how busy a day he was having. He dropped me off at the store with a fare of $12.00 and I gave him $15.00. No gratitude so I asked him if that was ok to which he replied that another dollar would make him happy. I responded that I'd made him laugh on the journey and he should be happy with that.

Wandered in and was like a kid in a sweet shop. Machine guns hanging on walls, handguns in cabinets, non politically correct paper targets on the wall, what bliss! The other guys arrived, I presented my coupons and requested my guns. Two 25 bullet belts for the SAW, two 30 round magazines for the M15 and 50 rounds for a Beretta 92F. The staff, or at least one of the main guys, wasn't particularly friendly. I understand that safety is paramount but when someone is spending money and is just demonstrating excitability I don't think it hurts to smile. I did ask if we could join the belt of bullets for the SAW together and then wrap them round my forearm as I fired the gun into the ceiling with one hand, he gruffly responded that doing that would take my arm off.

We went onto the range and started firing the machine guns. The SAW was wicked. Set up on a tripod with a laser sight and the belt in, it was joy to squeeze off a few rounds, puncturing the Osama paper target and kicking up the sand behind. As we grew more confident we fired longer bursts and the noise was fantastic. Next up was the M15. I had asked for the M4 carbine to which they feigned ignorance, even when I said the gun that de Niro fired in heat. Now this was a nice gun. Pulled in tight to the shoulder, the noise was deafening and the way the bullet casings ejected from the gun bouncing off the wall and onto the floor or onto me and the gun smoke drifted up through the holes in the barrel handle was just great.

Finally it was time for the Beretta. They seem to give you a lot more freedom with the handguns and basically gave a quick demo and said off you go. We had to individually load the magazines and even though the mag in the Beretta holds 15 rounds I could only push down 10. Call me weak but Jesus the spring on it was amazingly tough. I was pushing so hard to get the 11th bullet in that it felt like days at school when you played outdoor sports in winter and upon coming back in couldn't do up your shirt because your fingers were so cold and numb. In the end, and after ridicule from friends who I later discovered had had a similar problem, I settled on 10 bullets a clip and got stuck in shooting down range. I tried to adopt a million cop positions that I'd seen on telly and tried aiming but wasn't sure if I was hitting anything with the way the gun was riding up and to the right. In the end I thought to hell with it and just pretended I was either Martin Riggs or John McLane. I loved having a full clip (ok 2/3rds full), leaning the hand gun to the side, slamming in the clip, depressing the slide release, it chunking forward to chamber a round and then firing off 10 shots in quick succession. Granted I probably hit nothing but it did fulfil many Hollywood action fantasies. Fun was over and I put the gun down with the mechanism open as they had handed them to us. Turned to the instructor who told us to take the handguns back round into the shop. Turned to pick my one up, foolishly grabbing over the top and accidentally hit the release latch snapping it shut on my finger. My friends naturally laughed until the blood dripped off my finger where they then expressed concern. The instructor started to attend to it before asking me to come round to the shop side where he had some tape etc. I quickly slapped a little blood on my target as a reminder before washing it down in their toilet and getting him to bandage my war wound or 'Beretta's kiss' as I decided to call it.

We hopped on a bus back to the strip and started chatting to this nice older chap about his guns, life history and sister who used to be in the CIA. I stopped into New York, New York for a quick go on the Manhattan express which was ok. It wasn't awesome but it offered some thrills particularly the inverted loop which was quite novel. I think $9.95 would be a more accurate price for it. Anyway wandered back up the strip finding a large, clean chemist that was a great find stocking reasonably priced drinks etc. Picked up some plasters and water and hurried up towards the Bellagio. I've got to say that this was one of my favourite times of the day. Just as the sun was going down and the lights coming on there was a sense of magic in the air, a palpable tingling of expectant energy that you could almost eat with a spoon. It was like the strip was slowly coming alive, like a good friend waking up and wanting to party. Got back to my room for a quick shave (slightly more difficult with my bandaged finger) and a shower. Slipped into a dark blue suit with a pink shirt and headed down to the foyer. Hooked up with everyone and jumped in two cabs to zing over to the Stratosphere. Traffic was heavy but not immovable and we were only a few minutes late.

Went into the stratosphere and took the long walk to the elevator, which did seem an age away. Up the lift and out into the restaurant. A few steps down, greet the waitress and 'Oh my god, check out that view!' It stopped all of us in our tracks as we each saw it for the first time. Now that view really is something else. Over 800 ft up, looking down over a plethora of street lights and buildings. We were shown to our table of eight and I was sitting right on the end next to the glass. The view man just had me humbled, I'm quite chatty (as you can probably tell) but I was content to just sit there and just watch Las Vegas circle by me. In the distance I spotted a strange orange light and realising what it was watched as the moon slowly rose up over the mountains in the distance, amazing. The food arrived and I ordered Portobello mushrooms, the New York steak with maitre'd butter (unfortunately it had garlic in it) and shared the chocolate stratosphere tower desert. The food was good, granted it wasn't outstanding but I've a simple palette and was content to eat anything whilst enjoying the view. The service was also warm and friendly and we didn't get any hassle from the woman who offers to take your photograph (I say this because I've read people complain about her being pushy). We settled the bill. I'd didn't see it but I'm sure it was big and grabbed a couple of cabs to the Hilton.

Some of our party weren't too keen on seeing Barry Manilow but I was looking forward to it and if nothing else at least it was a Las Vegas show. We had picked our tickets up earlier in the day and made our way into the auditorium. I was surprised to see people as I entered waving luminous green glowsticks. I've done my share of proper clubbing and I couldn't imagine Barry belting out a couple of rave anthems. We sat down and proceeded to look at the rest of the crowd whilst we waited for it to start. Predominantly older (35-50) females with some already standing up and jigging to the piped music, there were also a few guys standing up and attempting to cut some moves but these were obviously guys who dance once every year at a wedding or gathering. It was all good fun and I was happy to see people enjoying themselves. The beginning started to build and 'Right here, right now' started coming through the speakers. You could feel the anticipation rise as the bass became more thumping, they started to mix the track with 'I see you baby, shaking that arse' whilst the screen on the stage started to flash up images of Barry and his album covers, the mixing between the two became more feverish and the lights began to twirl and by this point the atmosphere was reaching fever point with audience hands going in the air and people whooping and clapping. The montage ended with a voice saying 'I'm Barry Manilow's biggest fan in the USA' there was a crash and Barry walked out singing 'the miracle is you'. The crowd went utterly apeshit and I admit so did I. It was one of the best build up and entrances I'd seen in a long time. Barry was very good. He was funny, self deprecating and offered up some interesting stories about his launch to fame. When he performed Mandy the screen showed him playing when he was 23 and about a minute into it Barry drifted onto stage on his piano singing in perfect unison with his earlier recording. It was a good section and a stand out moment for many in our party.

Later he performed a number to the left hand side of the stage and chatted to a woman in the VIP audience who was from the UK which elicited roars from us and also from other Brits within the audience. He went on to talk about how he wrote commercials before he became a star including ones for McDonalds and the classic' Dr Pepper, so misunderstood'. He would change after every song into a new jacket and I've got to say that most, if not all of them, were pretty damn funky. Before too long he started Copacabana which got everyone up dancing (including ourselves) and clapping. A gantry came down from the ceiling which Barry and his dancers marched up and continued dancing to Copacabana to. It was quite cool as he was right above the stalls and almost level with us who were up in the circle. He finished in a blaze and swept off the stage before returning to perform 'one voice' virtually acappella. The lights shut down, the large M that framed the stage turned green, tiny little green lights embedded in the walls of the theatre came on and everyone started waving their glow sticks. It was quite a sight and Barry finished the song with the audience singing with him. The show finished to thunderous and deserved applause and we all poured out of the hotel to be greeted with the mother of all taxi queues.

One of our gang disappeared and then came back telling us to follow him. He'd managed to find this 10 seater mini van that was decked out like a stretch limo with neon and leather seats etc. I believe it was called a land yacht. It has the radio playing but seemed only to be playing adverts. It didn't matter though as we weren't queuing anymore and were heading down the strip. We went past the mirage as the volcano blew and it looked quite cool what with the fire and water spraying everywhere. Pulled up at Caesars as five of us were going on to Pure and the others were content to walk back to the Bellagio.

Met Vegas VIP from the LVOL board, who had arranged our VIP entry and table service to Pure, next to the sport book area, introduced him to the guys and then attempted to push up to the bouncers. The general admission queue looked ridiculous and must have meant at least a 2 hour wait. Considering what we were going to pay for the table service I was glad the place was popular. We managed to get to the bouncers, Vegas VIP cleared our entry and then they asked for photo ID. I went to pull out my driving license and it wasn't there, panic!! Oh god where is that? The others admitted they didn't have ID either so we moved away from the entrance. Vegas VIP was concerned that our table might be bumped so we all agreed to race back to the Bellagio and grab some ID. En route back I realised that after my Beretta's Kiss I must have left my license at the Gun store and that I'd have to use my passport. Hurried back to the room, grabbed passport, slapped on a little more eau de toilette, put a new plaster over my wound and raced back to Pure. Pushed to the front again and the bouncers thankfully remembered us and through the braided rope we went. Pure's VIP guy met us, introduced himself and ushered us through. We were told that due to our late arrival we had been bumped up to the patio and I feared it would affect our evening.

I needn't have worried. The view from the patio was just fantastic, especially as we were positioned more at the end of the VIP area and the warmth from the heaters kept the chill at bay. We were overlooking the strip with Bally and Paris in full view and views towards the Venetian and Bellagio Lake. The VIP area on the patio was very special. Braided rope border, some fancy pit with open flame to provide additional warmth and our very own VIP waiters and security. We did feel a little like we were in a goldfish bowl at the beginning as there were lots of people on the main patio but only about three parties, including ourselves, in the VIP area. The bouncers also said that if there were any ladies that we liked the look of in the main club that we could invite them back into the VIP or they could go and request their company for us. I loved it and relaxing on those comfy sofas, looking at that fabulous view with a drink in hand and knowledge that we had our own table laden with mixers and more alcohol was wonderful and made the financial outlay for the privilege worthwhile. A friend and I headed downstairs at one point to have a look around. We saw some girls performing in the pussycat dolls lounge which was entertaining. At one point there were five scantily clad girls on the stage, one in an oversized champagne glass and two more swinging from fur lined swings suspended from the ceiling!

Jim, our chief security guy, was really great. Polite, professional, always smiling and a really nice guy to talk to. Holly Voss, not our waitress but I think the main one, was also amazing. Incredibly attractive, classy, friendly and with such a pretty face that I just had to tell her in a non arsehole, purely complimentary way. She then astonished me by starting to talk to me, admitting to liking my accent and even asked for my email address. I think to be fair she was being typically American, ie very friendly but someone looking as good as that doesn't normally just come out and say they want to talk to me, so I confess to being quite bowled over. I did tell her that I thought her name was false as I couldn't imagine such a pretty woman being paired with a name that sounded like it belonged in a James Bond film. For the remainder of the evening I addressed her as Sharon Brown and we'd laugh together when she walked past and would pull a typical waitress 'drop the hip, hand on waist' pose. She gave me her business card which had her email address on it but then seemed to cool towards me as the evening progressed. This might have had something to do with the garlic I had eaten earlier and unfortunately only remembered and remedied with a mouthful of chewing gum after she'd gone. It was a shame but being able to chat to a grade A stunner whilst in the VIP area of an amazing club felt damn good and I was grateful.

It was still great up there though and with the two 1 litre bottles of vodka disappearing down our necks our mood was all good. I felt brilliant even to the point of telling a very good looking woman, who arrogantly knew she was, that she had a lovely face but quite possibly the biggest big toe I'd ever seen and maybe open toed sandals weren't the best thing. She knew I was being cheeky and non malicious but it did make her laugh and that was the point of it I guess. The people that I met that night seemed so friendly and approachable whether it was Jim, the guys working in the toilet or a host of others who came into the VIP area that I was finding the whole American nightclubbing experience incredibly addictive. To this end I must also add that I wasn't acting all arrogant and pretentious for being in VIP area, so please don't think of that me. I know my roots and was just keen to be feeling special for once. Unfortunately upstairs had to close at 4.00 am and we took up station on the dance floor downstairs for the last 45 mins. I seemed to be flying now and was chatting to everyone and managed to learn the two best names in the club. Von for a guy, who was this black bouncer, what a wicked name and Cheyenne for a girl who was dancing on the dance floor. What cracking names. We ended up leaving the club when the whole thing chucked out and looking back now I wish we had gone on somewhere else. I was pumped to the max, still had plenty of chewing gum left and was in a talkative mood. Tiredness was beginning to kick in though and we retired to one of the Bellagio bars for a couple of late night glasses of baileys. I foolishly, and probably drunkenly, ripped up Holly's card wanting to protect myself from making an idiot of myself in emailing her when I got back home but maybe this wasn't one of my best decisions. Headed up to my room and hit the sack at around 6.00ish.

Saturday

Got up at 8.30 feeling a little tired but a good blast in the shower brought me back. I had a busy day, it being the last full one and I couldn't afford to hang around. Dressed and out to nip down to the gun store (I'd phoned ahead to check they had my license) to collect it before asking the cab to then run me on to the fashion show mall. Wandered around picking up some jeans and t-shirts for myself and relatives then popped over to the Wynn to grab some dollar chips for folks back at home before walking back to the hotel. The weather was great, warm and sunny but not too hot. Dropped my things in my room and met two of my crew in the foyer. We walked down to the boardwalk hotel to be picked up and taken to jean airport for a tandem freefall parachute jump that we were doing with Vegas extreme skydiving.

I was in good spirits, not really nervous despite the forms we had to fill in and the blunt, but necessary, warnings that we could die doing this and there was no insurance cover. Yeah whatever I thought. I had some good verbal tussles with the driver and was labeled the trouble maker but it was good natured banter and maybe took some of the other people's minds off what was coming. Arrived at the centre which was run by Dale, an ex royal marine. A nice guy but I think he was a little stressed with being let down by others and his military abruptness came out a little. He was somebody I would love to have talked to in more detail. Put on my jumpsuit which I loved. It was quite snug, pulling in at all the right places and I wouldn't have minded wearing it under my clothes if I went out that night! We had to wait for a couple of hours while others had their jumps etc but I was ok with this. As the jump drew nearer they put me in the harness, which I might add also looked wicked and made me feel like a fighter pilot (I told you I get excited about small things) and was introduced to my tandem jumper, Frank. What a great guy he was and I was keen to talk to him as I wanted him to understand how much I had been looking forward to this. I love sharing things with people and although I know that he had done this a million times before I wanted him to know that it was special to me and the reasons why. We went through the basic maneuvers and then Frank and I and N (the other guy from my party that I was doing this with) and Jim walked out to the plane. We hopped in and took up our position for the flight.

Frank and I were going to be the first ones out which pleased me and thus we were closer to the open door. I watch fascinated and at close hand as we took off and slowly made our ascent. It was so cool just looking through the door at the world below, particularly as the sun was setting and it was going to be their last jump of the day. We continued climbing which was fine by me as I wanted the maximum height for the maximum freefall. As we got closer to the jump point Frank would lean through the opening and check our relativity to the drop zone. To be honest this was the only time I felt unnerved. I didn't mind the idea of jumping but didn't fancy the idea of tumbling out whilst just looking over the edge. Frank was a great guy and my total confidence in him removed any thoughts of fear or worry that I might die. We got to the point and shimmied over to the open edge. Frank positioned himself on the lip of the plane with me in his lap. My feet were tucked right back so they were under the fuselage and touching the skin of the plane. My hands were folded over my chest and my head right back into his shoulder. I think he said something and then

.

.

Whoosh we were out of the plane and falling towards the ground at a fast rate of knots. I thought my mind might turn to mush but he tapped me on the shoulder and I extended my arms as I'd been told. Man what a rush. The wind was just racing past my ears yet the ground didn't seem to be approaching. We were over a road and my eyes became fixed on this white lorry trundling along the road. It seemed so surreal that this lorry was just ordinarily driving along the road yet I was extra-ordinarily racing down through the sky towards it. At one point Frank dropped his shoulder and we seemed to race down in a swoop which was amazing. Then just as suddenly the parachute opened, my nuts were rammed up through my stomach and the roar was immediately replaced by an amazingly peaceful silence.

Frank calmly asked me what I thought and it was all I could do to stumble together a few words like amazing and incredible. It was so wonderful to look down at my feet as a point of reference and then see the ground a further 2,500 ft below them. We took our time coming down with a couple of fast spins just for fun. Frank had to unclip the two lower clasps before we could land to allow me to lift my feet up and this was a little unnerving. From taking an age to arrive suddenly the gravel drop zone came racing up and we slid in on our arses. I just sat there, awed by what I'd just done while my ears literally seemed to gurgle as the pressures within or whatever fought to rebalance themselves. Frank pulled me up and I threw my arms around N who had landed just before me. It was great to have had someone else to share it with. The van pulled up to take us back and I admit to being quite muted on the way back to the airport. We got out of our flight suits and signed the visitor's book. I could only think of one word to say amazing but then as I walked away more words came jumbling out which I attempted to put down. I shook hands again with Frank and thanked him for everything. I gave him a $50 tip but I wasn't sure what the going rate was and to be fair was still in a bit of a daze. The journey back to the hotel was quite somber as I was reflecting on and replaying what had happened as well as trying to rebalance my ears which were acting a little funny. Chatted to a lovely couple on the way back who were also staying at the Bellagio but were off to see the UFC fight at the MGM grand.

We had booked Penn & Teller for that evening and also had to get some grub in before then, especially as I hadn't eaten all day. Booked a table for 8 of us at 7.00pm at Morton's steakhouse and jumped in the shower. I blew my nose when I came out and then had the mother of all nose bleeds. I don't know if my blood pressure was all over the place but this just wouldn't stop despite tipping my head back, pinching my nose etc. During this I was trying to wash my teeth, apply wax to my hair, scent up and get dressed without any spillages. Eventually it stopped after about 25 minutes but I still had to walk down to the foyer dabbing my nose in case of leakage, how attractive! Got 2 cabs over to Morton's and what a great place this was. Old world charm, nice atmosphere, felt a bit gangster but in a nice way. Our waiter was truly superb and offered some of the best service I've ever experienced. He was funny and understanding, showed us all the different kinds of steak we could have, talked about the other ingredients and vegetables used and offered advice on how many side dishes we should get so we didn't go over. We also ordered two of their famous hot chocolate sponges as you had to get the orders in early. The main course arrived (we skipped starters due to time constraints) and we tucked into to a number of huge, tasty and succulent steaks. I also had creamed spinach, mushrooms and lyonnaise potatoes which were all very nice indeed. Time was running out and we requested the bill and considered leaving the dessert until it arrived. Oh golly, this was good. Hot chocolate sponge exterior with warm chocolate sauce oozing out when your spoon punctured it. All this on a crisp biscuit base and a scoop of haagen daaz vanilla ice cream. We might have been stuffed but many of us found the room for it within us. Paid the bill which wasn't bad, about $70 each including tip, and all of us agreed that it was the best meal we had eaten in Las Vegas. I deliberately stopped the waiter and told him how impressed I was with his service and how I'd never met a waiter who was more informative about his food or passionate about his guests having a nice, filling meal. The restaurant had called us two cabs and we blasted over to the Rio.

I'd said to our driver that we needed to get to the Rio for 9.00 and as it was 8.52, he pulled out some crazy stuff including turning right when greeted by a set of red traffic lights and then driving through a car park and popping out ahead of the aforementioned lights. It was like some kind of getaway driving and hugely entertaining. He even had time to show us en route a portfolio of girls at a gentleman's club that he knew and promised he could get us into. His description of the girls and the proximity to which you could get to them was pretty graphic and almost put me off the thought of women for about an hour or so. He got us there on time and we raced through the casino and hotel to the theatre, which typically when running late, was right at the very back of the hotel. Everyone had gone in and Penn & Tyler had just come on as we settled into our seats. I've got to say that they were very good to begin with. The tall one did a witty monologue about his smashed bottle juggling routine but then the show did become very talky and a little bogged down. I know they pride themselves about not doing a Vegas style show but I think it could have done with some flashes and bangs to keep me more awake.

After the huge meal, adrenaline comedown after the jump, the darkened theatre and lack of on stage action I do confess to dozing off for about 20 minutes and missed the end of the show. Left the show and had a quick drink in the casino before cabbing it back to the Bellagio. A couple of the party rained off for the night. One of the party crew was asleep in bed and my room mate was feeling the effects of a bad cold and we had the frustrating do we really go to town and have a final bender or play it safe dilemma. I was up for going mad, though was beginning to feel a little drained, but didn't want to force my wishes on others. My room mate and I seemed to mooch around and skirt the issue of going silly, trying to get into Light or heading over to the Empire Ballroom but we couldn't seem to get going. Whilst he settled down for some gambling with two others I went for a meander and wandered round Caesars before heading up strip to take a look at the Venetian. Discovered the karaoke at the imperial palace which frustratingly was what I wish we had gone to on the Thursday. Right on the strip, with a bona fide room for it, a little stage, an appreciative audience and a bar, damn it! Wandered around a little more and as it had got to three and it seemed nothing was going to happen decided to retire for the night. It was a poor end to my time in Vegas but I wasn't prepared to go to a club on my own and I was feeling the first strains of tiredness.

Sunday

Up at 8.30 and started packing the case, quick shower and popped to the Caesars and Bellagio shops for some final bits and pieces and then seemed to just mull around while we waited to check out. Made the classic error just as I left the room in noticing for the first time all the sweets and savories on top of the mini bar and then picked up the cashews to show my room mate. 'Hey look, Bellagio cashew nuts' I said just as the machine clicked and charged the room. Nice work, though I did at least get some Bellagio nuts, to go with the slippers which are about four sizes too small. We checked out, keeping the door key card for posterity. It's now nicely positioned in my wallet waiting for someone to comment on it! We waited at the taxi rank which was immense and would you believe it but the fountain show started up and 'Time to say goodbye' came on over the speakers again. Wow she greeted us and waved us away. To avoid waiting we crammed eight people and our luggage into a stretch limo with the bulging boot tethered down and drove to the airport. Checked in but with three hours to the flight time I wasn't done with Vegas so grabbed a cab back to the strip. Popped into the Adidas store which was just up from the MGM and grabbed a few tops before walking to the In'n'Out burger. I just had to get my one last fix. Double, double again with the guy behind the counter wanting me to quote him a line from Wallace and Gromit in my English accent. Got myself a soft drink and only then noticed the fact that you could refill as many times as you wanted. How great but the real coup de grace was not the free ice on tap but the little plastic pot of sliced lemons, how civilized. I love a slice of lemon with my coke and enjoyed it immensely with my burger and fries. Grabbed another Neapolitan to enjoy on the walk back to the strip where I hoped to get a cab to the airport and lo and behold managed to grab one which was stopped at the traffic lights. Made the flight with plenty of time and it was pretty uneventful. Didn't get any sleep on it, watched The Fantastic Four, which I've seen before but enjoyed, landed at 11.30 and straight back into the office, though the afternoon wasn't the hardest that we've ever had. Came down with a bad cold, caused mainly due to being run down but managed to get some major shut eye this weekend and am coming through the other side. Getting a cold though is a worthy price to pay though for living the dream in Vegas.

Well I hope that hasn't been too boring for those who braved managing to read it all the way through. I wish I could say there was a prize for battling through it but there isn't I'm afraid bar that of being able to witness Vegas through the eyes of an average, excitable English male.

For my sins I just wanted a good and detailed account of the trip written down when it was all still so fresh in my mind and also so I could email it to friends and family so they could, if interested, get a real taste of Vegas.

Highs for me.

Bellagio and the accommodation

The Pool and Jacuzzi at the Bellagio

In 'n' out Burger

Gun store

Stratosphere view

Manilow

VIP @ Pure  

Freefall jump

Morton's steakhouse

I hope it made some of you smile.

Paris Stag Weekend. September 2005

Went on a stag weekend to Paris last weekend and it was really good. I really enjoyed Paris and staying there for a couple of nights allowed me to see a lot more of the city. We were staying in a cheapish but good hotel in Gare du Nord and used this as a base to explore. Had a meal on the Friday night just round from the hotel before going to a karaoke place though we got fragmented a little because Paris cabs were refusing to take us or seemed incapable of stopping.

Anyway only four of us made it to the karaoke and the rest stayed where they were. Sang a few tunes at the karaoke but they seemed to take it very seriously here and it was hard to motivate the crowd, nonetheless I still performed a great solo rhinestone cowboy and duet'd with circle of life by Elton john and finished with a microphone wander into the crowd! I had wanted to sing Quel Monde Merveuilleaux which I know(sp) ie 'what a wonderful world' but they didn't have it or even the English version which I would have dubbed over. Stayed there until about 3.00 ish continually drinking, no trouble which makes a mockery of all the Daily Mails panic mongering about extended licensing laws. After this we managed to find a cab (remarkable) and went to a club called le duplex which was right next to the arc de triumphe. Like every club, pub and restaurant in Paris it didn't have air con but played some 80's and I got down. Returned to the hotel about 5.45 ish slightly drunk, up for 10 and then proceeded to have a lazy day.

It was raining on and off and a proposed treasure hunt was dropped because of this and also because a lot of the guys wanted to sit in a sports bar and watch the cricket! Four of us peeled off and went to Mont Mart which was a pretty impressive view I must say and we had a hot chocolate at an outside café and watched the world go by and also pedestrians attempting to pick up a two euro coin which we'd superglued to the floor! Returned to the hotel via the metro, changed into smart wear (trousers and jackets) had a better meal, rump steak and chips and cabbed it (we were getting better at getting them now) over to the crazy horses club, I don't know if you remember me telling you about this. It was a club similar to the Moulin rouge. The drive there was really nice going across the place de la concorde, the louvre and up the champs de elysee and I wish I could have had more time to wander around them, particularly at night when they looked so good. We got to crazy horses and at this point to explain what I thought of it I've pasted in the email I sent to the creative director of the show yesterday

"Dear Madame Balma

I just wanted to write and express my praise and gratitude for the wonderful show that I saw last Saturday.

My friends and I came to Paris last weekend for a stag party and Crazy Horses was arranged on the recommendation of one of our party. I myself was quite sceptical if I'm honest. I've never really seen a show like this, or even indeed a cabaret, and thought the whole 'naked as an art form' idea quite cheesy.

How wrong could I have been? The location was fabulous in a very exclusive part of Paris, the clientele (with your stricter dress code) pleasantly mixed and varied and the venue itself intimate and welcoming without the sleaze factor that I might have imagined. The show itself was amazing. The production values of the pieces were fantastic, from the choreography, lighting and design through to their varied nature and tone, whether upbeat, serene or humorous.

The women were incredible, even more so than I could have imagined and I thought it refreshing that they were all 100% natural (i.e. no implants). I think what impressed me the most though was how many of the girls were so wonderfully pretty. I love a woman's figure but despite them being virtually naked my gaze kept returning to their faces and smiles. I was so captivated by the girls and the show that I confess to sitting through most of it with my mouth open in a mixture of awe and genuine admiration. It's funny in that I would notice that it was open after a few minutes, close it and then feel it drop when the very next act came on.

Stand out acts for me would have to be the 'But I'm a good girl' for the wonderful face, figure and moves of the dancer involved, 'Adagio' for the graceful display of beautiful women scored to lovely music but just shading it would be 'Champagne taste'. The dancer who performed this was really incredible. Her body wasn't what I normally like but her face and smile were truly mesmerizing, the gusto and enthusiasm of her performance was fabulous and the moment she leaned back and removed her hat revealing a mane of wonderful hair was just out of this world.

I'd also have to compliment Gaeta (this was a magician) and Vik & Fabrini (double act where one of them pretending to be a waxwork model) for eliciting roars of laughter, gasps of astonishment and helping to add a greater range and 'roundness' to the whole evening. I left the venue in humbled silence, almost speechless at what a great evening of entertainment I'd had and how I thought it worth every penny that I'd paid. There was also a mixture of elation and reflection. Elation that women as wonderful as these walk the earth yet reflection that one would never really get the chance to be in the company of such women and find out if their personalities could possibly match their appearance.

Anyway I'm sorry to have rambled on and 'gushed' so effusively. Your show took me by surprise and really blew me away. It was incredibly classy, bold but never rude, sexy but never demeaning, at times almost beautiful and truly was a form of art.

Thank you."

When we left here we all wandered to the same club the four of us had gone to the night before and as we walked I felt very relaxed and thoughtful. The weather was comfortable, I'd just seen a great show, Paris was looking brilliant and I felt good, if a little subdued at the thought of all those unobtainable beautiful women. Some of us had difficultly getting into the club as one or two hadn't made as much as an effort with their clothing but an hours wait and a bribe to the bouncer resolved that and we spent the remainder of the night (until about 5ish) in there. Met a barmaid who was a lovely woman, good looking but also very friendly. At one point I ordered two drinks which would have been about 20 euros (£15) and she knowingly gave them to me free with a smile (first time that has ever happened and it was in Paris of all places!). Just before I left I told her that I had a rather stereotypical view of French people and that she was responsible for beginning to change my views on them.

Sunday was a muted affair, full English breakfast at lunchtime from an English orientated pub that we found and the afternoon eurostar home. Overall I had a really good time and thought Paris brilliant, which really surprised me. The Parisians weren't as rude as I expected, I never felt threatened and the language barrier wasn't as problematic as I'd feared. I'd love to go there again, take a bit more time to mooch around and definitely take Anthony to crazy horses, it would also be nice to take a girl to Paris but hell that probably isn't as likely. I've surprised myself about Paris. I would never have imagined that I would take the time to look at the web to investigate future prices but I will genuinely consider going there again especially as it is so easy to get to.