Worn Out by Vacation Preparations

Friday, July 31, 2009

Page 15

AT THE SIDEBAR (Column)

Worn Out by Vacation Preparations

By J’AMY PACHECO

Is there anything more exhausting than getting ready to go on vacation?

I think not.

At this point in my daughter’s summer break, we normally would have a lengthy list of tourist stuff checked off. This summer thus far has been pretty low-key; highlights of my deprived daughter’s vacation activities include seeing the new Harry Potter movie at midnight, going swimming at Grandma’s, and having a pal spend the night. Not exactly the stuff dreams are made of.

Unfortunately, my daughter’s summer break is almost over. She goes back to school Aug. 13, leaving us only a handful of days to rustle up some excitement.

Fortunately, we’re about to head out on a week-long vacation that should be good for at least one “What I did last summer” essay.

We’re not going far — it’s just a three-hour drive. It’s not an exotic paradise — it’s a desert resort sure to be blisteringly hot at this time of year. But it’s unlikely we’ll notice, because once we arrive, we likely won’t leave the hotel.

We’re off on our annual trek to Las Vegas for a fashion doll convention. It may sound like a bunch of people getting together to play dolls, but…well, I guess it sort of is.

But it’s much more than that. We’ll be participating in a treasure hunt in the casino; bowling in a tournament at midnight in our pajamas, and for the first time in my non-gambling life, I’m playing in a slot tournament. Not for money, but for dolls. (Like I don’t have enough of those.)

My mother, my daughter and I have been doing this together for years. This year, my sister is coming as well. She’s not a “doll person” — yet — but she’s a lot of fun and bowls almost as badly as I do.

Of course, we also drag our husbands along. Mine has years of experience in convention support. He works from our hotel room, but makes occasional cell-phone instigated trips downstairs to bring things to us, or to haul things to our room. I’m sure he’ll have my brother-in-law trained in no time.

The convention has once-daily meal functions that have themes. Some participants dress in costumes appropriate for that meal’s theme. I’ve done this a few times, but this year, I simply haven’t had time to make costumes for myself.

My daughter, on the other hand, wouldn’t be caught dead in ordinary street wear at a themed function. So for the past few weeks, my every spare hour has been spent at my sewing machine fashioning costumes worthy of my little conventioneer.

She’s got a Star Trek dress with a command insignia, and a nifty Rocky Horror Picture Show t-shirt. (There were some wonderful costume opportunities from the movie, but halfway through a viewing of that film, she pronounced herself traumatized and declined to have ANY Rocky Horror costume made. Phew.)

For a space-themed banquet, she’s got a very cool reproduction of the Pan Am flight attendant’s white outfit from the space ship, complete with the enormous bubble hat. I’m very proud of this costume.

Superhero night is the only one for which I’m going to be costumed. My daughter is going all in pink and sparkles, from her cape to her lightening-bolt shoes. She’s the invincible “Barbie Girl.”

I’m going in all pea-green, from my oversized t-shirt to the blindingly ugly green shoes I bought at WalMart. I’m going to be her evil nemesis, “Hostile Makeover.” I didn’t even make the costume; I bought cheap shorts and a t-shirt and threw them in the washing machine with a couple shades of dye. I’m thinking Christmas card photo here.

I’m excited, but making these costumes, as well as doll-sized reproductions to serve as table centerpieces, has sapped my time and energy. Add to that the need to prepare table decorations, gifts for our eight meal partners, to pack, make donation dolls for the charity auction and raffle room, and get things like this column done early, and it’s a sure bet I’m going to sleep the whole way to Las Vegas. Fortunately, I’m not driving.

It’s a crazy, weird, silly, fun convention at which we get to come face-to-face with online friends we only see once each year — although sometimes their costumes are so elaborate, we don’t recognize them.

It’s sure to be a good time, and will no doubt be over too soon. I just hope I don’t sleep through the whole thing, worn out from getting ready to go.