Vegas! The play ground for adults! Well in order to enjoy this little play ground you have to get there first. You might think living in Los Angeles makes things easy, because it’s only a 3 and a half hour drive right? Nope! When you drive to Vegas with a Persian Family…it feels like three months.
As a child I remember taking trips to Las Vegas with my family. You see, we don’t travel like normal human beings. Normal people have everything organized; with their check lists and shit, but for us, it’s fucking pandemonium. The morning of us leaving for Vegas is like the night the Titanic went down. People all over the place, drawers open, people yelling foreign languages, a band playing …wait that last one is wrong.
First
When Persian people take a road trip to Vegas, it isn’t just your parents, your siblings, and you. Every person your parents have ever met in their entire life span is going to travel with you. You’re like a gypsy caravan except in Benzs and BMWs instead of donkeys.
Second
Persian people like to plan on a time to have everyone meet up at someone’s house, so that we all leave for Vegas together. So let’s say your parents tell everyone to meet at 10 a.m. No one will be at your house until 1 p.m. and it’s not like that’s when you leave. HELL NO. They have to come in and have a breakfast. They sit down, enjoy feta cheese with bread, talk about how the Shah should have been in power and during this conversation you’re thinking “weren’t we suppose to be somewhere?”….oh yeah on the way to FUCKING VEGAS.
Third
Here comes the fun part. Let’s say there are five families going; so you would think that you would take five cars. NO! Wrong again! You suck! Iranians play this little game with themselves called “How Can I Fit The Most Iranians In My Car.” It’s really simple. You just shove as many people in the back seat, you sit comfortably in the front seat and then you assume everyone is as comfortable as you. So out of the five family going, you take two cars.
Fourth
You finally leave and you’re lying horizontally across the back seat, with your head between your grandmothers legs, as she peels oranges over your head repeating “this is very good for car sickness.” She shoves like ten slices into your mouth. Then your uncle uses your thigh as a musical instrument. Each of his slaps against your flesh is carefully synchronized to what ever 1970s Googoosh song is screaming out of the speaker, which of course just happens to be next to your head. *Googoosh is a famous Iranian female singer.* Meanwhile your father is driving about 130 mph , eating about 70 pumpkin seeds a minute while snapping his fingers together to the beat of the music.
Fifth
You finally get there. You pile out of the car like a circus clown car. Orange peels and pumpkin seeds pour out on to the valet area. Now the magic really happens. Your father sees the line of people who are waiting to check in, and decides “FUCK THAT!” (he doesn’t say it but if you could put what he was doing into words that would be it). He proceeds to the VIP lounge, where he is not a VIP. He then goes to the desk and tells them that he has reservations for a suite (There are no reservations.) He then explains that he has made reservations from 8 months ago (Bullshit.) Then they argue back and forth until your father returns with a key to a suite that has a giant hot tub and free tickets to what ever Cirque Du Soleil show is playing in Vegas.
What you have just read is based on years of true life experiences with my family. I love them and I can’t wait to subject my family to it one day.
I’m Turkish… and this sounds incredibly familiar. We’re late everywhere, we travel in a large, loud, unmistakable pack. The only difference is that instead of pumpkin seeds, it’s sunflower ones.