By the time we left the pub, the shoe store that we were going to stop at on the way back to Grant's parents house was closed. Mr. Stoddard offered to lend both Chris and I pairs of his dress shoes so that we'd be able to get into the club with everyone else later that night. This worked out well for Chris, who like Brad wears a size 9, but didn't work out so hot for my size 12 tootsies. Check out the side by side comparison - I had to keep my toes curled to walk in them.
Shortly after Grant tried to brain me - I woke up and we threw around the frisbee. That is until a "mysterious little gust of wind" caused the frisbee to dip right as Grant was about to catch it and it whacked him in the forehead. A "mysterious little gust of wind" that I call PUNISHMENT FROM GOD! Hehehe.
I spent most of Monday in meetings for work. Tara spend most of Monday getting incredibly sunburnt at the hotel pool. Ouchie. After meeting up, we set out on the strip to explore some more.
