The staff filled the room with bachelorette balloons, placed a solid chocolate high-heeled shoe on the nightstand, and set a bottle of champagne in a gorgeous ice bucket on the table.
When the girls finally burst into the room — with tanned shoulders, wet hair, and endless giggles — I knew exactly where they had spent the day.
The Chelsea pool.
A day of lounging in the serenity of the canyon-like pool is the ideal way to ease into the Vegas party mood before a big night out.
Sun hats were cast aside on the couch and suitcases exploded in a flurry of black dresses, sparkly tops, and bikinis.
The redhead sunk down into one of the studio’s plush queen beds and let out a sigh of pseudo-frustration.
“I have nothing to wear.”
Yep, that meant it was officially “getting ready” time.
How many girls are they going to try to fit into the bathroom at once? I wondered. The most I had ever seen was four, but this group was trying to break the record.
The bride-to-be, Tiffany, curled her hair for over an hour and the maid of honor changed dresses three times. I wish I could’ve told her she looked fabulous in everything, but such is my life, always seeing what nobody else can even when I’m right in front of them.
There’s always one girl in the group who is ready to go way before all the others. This group was no different, but the early bird looked quite content in the meantime taking in the view of the Vegas skyline from her private Terrace Studio. (Not to mention, she had a glass of champagne in each hand, so she was doing just fine.)
Amongst the excited chatter, I could overhear the most important decision of the night being made.
“I think we should go to Beauty & Essex for dinner. It’s this funky pawn shop theme with shareable plates. I heard they have these grilled cheese smoked bacon and tomato soup dumplings that are ahhh-mazing,” said the tall blonde.
“No, no. I’m really craving Japanese tonight. Look at this, they have miso-marinated black cod,” the brunette offered as she scrolled through the Zuma menu on her phone, pausing for a moment her search for the rogue stiletto in the bathroom.
“Steak. We’re getting big, juicy steaks. And tuna tartare. Trust me, I’ve been to the STK in New York City and it’s fire,” said Tiffany as she clamped her eyelash curler for the fifth time.
Rightfully so, the bubbly bride got the final say.
I knew the pre-gaming had started when I saw the maid of honor pull out a packet of straws with plastic penises on them. Usually, I’d roll my eyes, but in all my years at The Cosmopolitan Hotel, I’ve never seen a plastic penis do any harm.
What I have seen cause problems is too much drinking too fast. Didn’t the bridal party realize that people would be buying them free drinks at the Marquee nightclub all night long?
I just hoped they’d be clear-headed enough to enjoy the club. The Marquee books top DJs from around the world as residents, plus, the glass window-walls overlooking the Las Vegas Strip make for the perfect Instagram. I think David Guetta was playing that night.
Before long I heard the infamous suggestion that always comes once the pre-drinking has started. “Let’s go down to the casino and play a little bit before dinner!”
It was a smart move because I could sense that these ladies were in for a lucky night. The blonde looked like a poker fan, the brunette a roulette gal, the redhead a blackjack player, and the bride… well, she seemed like she’d be cashing in at the slot machines.
Selfishly, my favorite part of the night is selfie time. It’s not a true bachelorette party without a mirror selfie (or two…or ten), and I have way better lighting than those casino mirrors. I wonder if they ended up going with the puppy dog filter or nerd glasses…
The photos were taken, filtered and uploaded in a blink of an eye. The room was getting louder with screaming laughter, and that’s when I sensed it was time for the party to venture out of the sanctuary of the suite and into the dazzling Vegas night.
“Wait, I have an idea,” the blonde squeaked right as they were about to walk out the door.
She ran over to the phone by the bed.
“Hi, I’d like to make an appointment for four Eco-Beauty facials and four Sahra stone massages for tomorrow. Late morning, please.”
Man, those girls knew how to do Vegas right.
With that, they drew the obligatory lipstick heart (courtesy of Smashbox Always) on me and dashed out the door. What can I say? Seven years on the strip and I still can’t get enough of this.