“Did you want fries with that?” This was never a question I expected to be asked at a Christmas dinner, but then this wasn’t an ordinary Christmas. I had opted to spend the festive season in the gambling capital of the world, Las Vegas, and headed for the casino, wearing my Santa hat and expecting to see the festivities in full swing.
What I soon realised is that in a place like Vegas, where dressing up and make-believe are the order of the day, Christmas is pretty much like any other day. Soon, I was drinking margaritas at a bar complete with Elvis impersonators, waitresses who would rather be at home with their families, and touts trying to sell tickets for the Blue Man Group. I spent the evening desperately seeking Christmas, but found no carol singers, no snow outside the window and no tree in my bedroom.
By morning I decided I was going about this all wrong and instead of looking for a traditional 25 December, I made the most of being in Vegas by wandering the old-school casinos in Fremont Street, chatting to showgirls and having a Christmas dinner in a well-known fast food chain – with fries of course.
It wasn’t the first time I’d done something different at this time of year. I always try to be away during the festivities. Once, I enjoyed Christmas on Bondi beach in Australia – lots of sun, Santa hats and a barbie, and I spent one year floating on the Nile in Egypt where I lingered to see the New Year welcomed in with a single firework.
This year I’ll be heading overseas once again and, if all goes according to plan, will be spending Christmas Eve camping on the ice in Antarctica. It may not be a chestnut-roasting-on-an-open-fire scene, but at least I’ll be guaranteed a white Christmas.
