Regret comes in all packages
Three years ago, for my birthday, my parents treated me and a friend to a week in Las Vegas. It was my first time in Sin City and I loved it.
Loved the blinking lights and gawdy strip; loved the all-you-can-eat buffets; the chimes and sirens of the casinos; rollercoasters and free fall; learning the signals used between dealer and player at the blackjack tables; the shopping; but most of all I loved the shows.
My parents REALLY wanted to see Siegfried and Roy’s magic show with the big cats. And although I was torn, I was determined to see Cirque du Soleil’s Mystere at Treasure Island (The Bellagio and O opened the weekend we were scheduled to fly out).
Now all I can think of is how much my mom REALLY wanted to see the cat show.
They rarely fly anywhere. Had I been thinking properly, I would have appeased her desire (their wishes) and caught Mystere the next time I flew out to Vegas. Right? But it was MY birthday and I had to have MY way. My dad would have preferred seeing the cats too, but was diplomatic and tried to get my mom excited about Cirque du Soleil.
I’m sitting here wishing we had gone to the other show, years ago.
How irrational is that? Of all the things to be preoccupied over…. the missed opportunity to catch a show.