The hotel was three and a half stars, although I'm somewhat skeptical that Hilton charges you by the minute to play a Nintendo 64 game on their entertainment menu (is this 1999?) I guess Daddy Hilton needs plenty of money to pay for Paris Hilton's legal fees. Other than the Nintendo anachronism, Hilton had a lovely pool complete with a trio of rich, bored white businessman's wives talking about real estate in the hot tub. We played many swimming games, which I lost badly at. Jill told me "I love this; swimming is one of the only things I can beat you at!" Why do I feel like Jill's going to want to swim everywhere now. "No, Jill, we can't swim to the library."
After checking in with 14 bags each (neither Jill or I are good at leaving anything at home on vacation), we headed to "The Melting Pot" for a night of fondue extravagance.
The idea is to dine for about two hours with cheese fondue appetizer, salad (in this case lettuce wraps), a main course of wine sauce fondue, and a dessert chocolate fondue. In addition, you're compelled to pay 10 dollars for a glass of wine, because, what the Hell, it's your anniversary! We had a nice, if a little glib waitress who told us in so many words that she was "tired of working at this restaurant because her dog wouldn't leave her alone when she came home smelling like fondue every night." When I asked her if she got burned a lot when flambeing the chocolate she said, "I can't really feel the tops of my hands anymore." (saying this as the flames are leaping onto her fingers like an Arizona wildfire).
Anyway, the joy of "The Melting Pot" is that you have a different taste on your palate every few seconds, and you get to eat lobster, pork, beef, chicken, veggies, and a ton
of other stuff. It's really American gluttony at its finest. Go meat!
After Jill and I finished eating, we realized that we were both engorged and tired as a result of our bodies shutting down to maintain status quo function. Jill asked me if she had anything in her teeth, and the following resulted from me telling her to "get in proper lighting."
The big plan was to go out to drinks somewhere downtown and watch drunk dudes with spiky hair and popped collars trying to take home the fakest looking girl in the room. Jill and I watch people so often in public, I wonder if other people think we are having a fight or are bored with each other. Don't judge us; we're busy judging you.
But I digress; instead of going out for a drink, Jill and I waddled the half block back to our hotel room, and I'll let the following pictures tell the rest of the story in a sort of photo-essay.
Here's to one more year!
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