[title subtitle=”words: Stoney Stamper
Images: courtesy April Stamper”][/title]
When I was going to Oklahoma State University, my sister helped me get a job at Stillwater Milling Company. I stacked thousands of sacks of feed onto semi-trucks. It was damn hard work, made even harder by the low pay and the spirited college nightlife I chose to live.
On Monday, Wednesday and Friday, I worked from seven in the morning to two in the afternoon, and on Tuesday and Thursday, I worked from two in the afternoon to ten at night. Neither of those shifts was pleasing to me. Getting up at six to be at work by seven was difficult considering I rarely got to bed before four in the morning. And if I worked the evening shift, I missed the first two hours of shenanigans at the bar with my friends. But, hey, the beer wasn’t going to pay for itself, so the job was a necessity.
Thankfully, college lasted only four years. Because if it were any longer, I’m not sure I would have survived. As I got older, life changed. I fell
in love, became a family man, even signed a mortgage.
These days, my nights are mostly spent beside my beautiful bride April, and our three lovely daughters. And although my jobs up to this point required a great deal of my time, none require as much as being a parent. It never stops. Parenting is not a full-time job. It’s an ALL-the-time job.
And just like other jobs, parents deserve a day off now and then. Mom and dad need alone time to remember why they even liked each other to begin with. To remember what it’s like to be around each other without a kid crying in the background, or wanting a ride somewhere, or needing help to climb onto the potty. So, April made an executive decision—we were going to spend a few days away.
The National Finals Rodeo was coming up in Las Vegas last December. We decided rather than watch it on ESPN, we’d watch it live. We reserved tickets to the final round of the NFR and we were Vegas bound!
My parents came to spend the weekend with the girls. April had never been to the NFR before so she was excited. But I was more excited to spend a few unadulterated days with my BFF (that’s “best friend forever” for those of you without school-aged children). Just the two of us. In Vegas. At the world’s most exciting rodeo. I couldn’t wait.
We landed and went straight to the Rio Hotel and Casino. To celebrate our weekend of freedom, I sprung for a huge corner suite, with floor to ceiling windows overlooking the mountains on one side and the famous Vegas Strip on the other. It was beautiful. We dropped our bags and crashed onto the oversized, impossibly soft king-sized bed. The room was completely silent, and that’s something we’re not used to. We cuddled, I pulled her close, and we kissed. I thought, Let’s start this vacation off right! She looked at me, and I was certain she was thinking the same thing. Then she said, “We should call the kids.” What?! That was definitely not what I was thinking. But, wanting to keep mama happy, we called the kids. We said our I love you’s and then got dressed for our first night on the town.
We had tickets to Ron White at The Mirage. The show didn’t start until ten that night! As we sat waiting for the show to begin, I’m embarrassed to say I felt myself getting very tired. I looked at April and said, “I’m so sleepy.” She replied with a hearty laugh, “Oh my gosh, I’m exhausted.” It wasn’t even ten, and we were already tired. April said, “Good grief, we are getting old.”
The show was over by twelve-thirty. Ten years ago, this would have been only the beginning of our night. We’d head to the bar or the blackjack tables. But instead, we both agreed to head back to the hotel. We were in bed by one, and unapologetically slept until nine the next morning without the slightest bit of guilt.
The next day we shopped and ate. Having nowhere to be until that night, it was rather early in the day when I decided a Pendleton Whiskey on the rocks sounded pretty tasty. Since Pendleton is the official whiskey of the NFR, they were selling doubles for a couple bucks more than a single. Never to be fiscally irresponsible, I felt it my duty to drink the double. And, they gave me a free T-shirt, so it was silly not to.
That first drink went down too easy. And since I had nothing else to do, I couldn’t think of a good reason not to get another. And then another. And then some more at dinner. April soon joined me, and it was soon clear we were beginning to feel the effects of the cocktails. We finally made it to the rodeo. It was an awesome performance, and I can’t remember having more fun together. We were carefree. We had no stress, no bills, no children. I made jokes. She laughed. We met a friend of ours from Oklahoma at a piano bar. And then we drank some more. Starting to see the pattern here?
I needed to visit the little boys room, so I left April and our friend at the bar while I searched for the restroom. Forty-five minutes came and went, and I had not returned. The girls set out to find me, along with their new friend, the cute male bartender. They looked all over the casino, but there was no sign of me anywhere. Finally, the bartender found me, all alone, sitting at a slot machine. Asleep—or passed out, whichever you prefer, with five casino employees standing around me. Thankfully, my BFF stepped up, dragged me to my feet, gave me some tough love, then made me walk all the way back to our hotel.
I won’t even try to sugarcoat it. The next day was terrible. And we had a plane to catch. What I didn’t expect was April to be hurting worse than me. We were quite the sight, I’m sure. Leaning against one another at the airport, alternating trips to the bathroom, and popping Excedrin Migraine® pills like Skittles®. It was an incredibly long, miserable trip home.
Sure, it was our fault. But it’s nice to know I can still party like a rock star. Unfortunately, I now recover like a middle-aged dad of three with some lower back issues and male pattern baldness. If you’d have asked me in the airport if I’d do it again, I would have said no. But now that I’ve recovered, I know that as long as I have my forever-Valentine, April, along for the ride, I’d do it all over again.
