Hey girl, let’s book a trip to vegas

“Hey girl, let’s book a trip to Vegas“

That was the text I received this morning, right as I was juggling a work email and a cup of donut holes I’d grabbed from QT, sipping my diet Cherry Mt. Dew at my desk and savoring the quiet of the early morning.

Panic and Overthinking

My first thought was to panic. This was an old friend from a previous job whom I’d not seen in 3 years, and while we texted occasionally, we didn’t have the same closeness that came from 20 years of working together in a toxic environment. Did something happen at work this morning? Was she having a rough day and needed someone to talk to? Was this idea of a ‘trip to Vegas’ her way of having something to look forward to so that she could navigate life’s complexities yet still have something on the horizon that mattered?

My brain went into overdrive. When would we go? How much were flights? Did I even really want to fly with all of the plane crashes, near miss crashes, and engine malfunctions you hear about daily? Would I have someone to take care of my kids for a few days? Could my dogs survive without me for a weekend?

An Invitation to Escape

I texted her back.

“When?”

Her response seemed urgent.

“Whenever you’re available. I need to get away from here.”

Ahhh… ok, so this wasn’t just about Vegas. This was about escape. About needing distance from the everyday grind and maybe even from herself for a while. And in her reaching out, I started to wonder…..was this really about her, or was it also about me?

Reflection on Change

Because suddenly, that simple text had me questioning more than just flights and pet-sitters. It had me thinking about how I handle stress now, how I define friendship at this stage of life, and whether I even recognize the version of myself who used to say yes without hesitation.

Back then, saying yes was easy. A weekend away, a spontaneous dinner, even a late-night venting session after work, I was always available, always ready to escape the weight of that toxic workplace. It felt like survival, like camaraderie, like proof that I wasn’t in it alone.

But now? Now life looks different. I have responsibilities that didn’t exist then. Kids, dogs, a home, routines I’ve built to keep the chaos at bay. I’ve grown more protective of my time, more intentional about where my energy goes. The idea of booking a random trip sounds fun in theory, but it also bumps up against the reality of this stage of my life: planning, scheduling, weighing risks, considering what’s truly worth my limited bandwidth.

Midlife Musings

And that’s when it hit me. This wasn’t just an invitation to Vegas. It was an invitation to check in with myself, to ask whether I’m still the person who jumps at escape or someone who now seeks meaning and calm over adventure and noise.

I sometimes wonder what happened to my younger self. At what age did I begin to choose quiet over chaos? Somewhere between small children who grew into teenagers, workplaces that slowly transformed into safe havens instead of battlegrounds, and friendships that became fewer but deeper, I shifted. The adrenaline of spontaneity gave way to the calm of predictability, and the version of me who once thrived on escape started to find comfort in staying put.

Homegrown Nightlife

Over the years, my home became my nightclub, minus the cover charge and with better snacks. And somewhere along the way, I became my own best friend. The one I can always count on to agree that popcorn counts as dinner, who thinks a wild night is finishing a whole season of a show in one sitting, and who never judges me for wearing pajamas at 6 PM.

I texted her back.

“I feel ya. Who’s going, just us?”

Understanding and Connection

I did understand. Everyone just needs to get away sometimes. Away from life’s expectations, away from life’s responsibilities, away from the version of yourself that everyone else is used to seeing. There’s something freeing, even empowering, about stepping into a place where no one knows the “regular” you. A new city offers the chance to try on a different rhythm, to breathe without the weight of who you’re expected to be.

“Yeah we need to make new friends. Ha ha ha. I feel so lonely.”

Ouch. I know that feeling well. The desire to make friends is overwhelming, necessary, yet complicated. Midlife isn’t exactly the season for building a whole new circle. That takes effort, consistency, and… time. Time I often choose to spend alone in my room, curled up with a good book, watching a movie, or scrolling through social media while my “friends” showcase their best lives. Weekend trips, backyard BBQs, date nights, and perfectly plated dinners all bubbling through my feed like a highlight reel I was never cast in.

“I’m too old to make friends. Haha I’ll just keep the ones I’ve already got-‘Me, myself and I…and you lol.”

It was true. While I’m not opposed to making friends, I’m certainly not going out of my way to do it. I don’t plan on putting myself out there, trusting strangers, or rearranging my life for social experiments. If it happens when I’m not looking, fine. If it never does, that’s fine too. I’ll just hang out with my dogs, binge a show, and call it a perfectly good evening.

Flights, Shows, and Fantasies

So I started looking at flights. How much would it cost for a round trip to Vegas? When would be the best time to go to avoid large crowds and spending copious amounts of money? Were there any good shows that we could see? I wasn’t into Blue Man Group, and I’d been to see the Chippendales once before… not something I’d feel the need to repeat. Still, my mind raced through all the possibilities: dinners, casinos, walking the Strip, maybe even a spa day. Each scenario came with a running tally of cost, effort, and logistics and yet, beneath it all, I realized I was less excited about the shows themselves and more intrigued by what it would mean to step out of my usual routine for a few days.

So I sent her a screenshot of the flight prices.

“Maybe we can make some friends in Vegas. Wear some hot dresses and walk down the strip. Two hot cougars out in Vegas. #Meeeeoooowww”

Not happening, I thought to myself as I pressed send. But either way, it gave the impression that I was up for a good time, even if I wasn’t mentally, physically, or emotionally prepared to follow through. At this point, it felt more like a shared moment, a way to help the wave of loneliness subside, to let her know that despite how she was feeling, she could count on me to feel it with her. There’s strength in numbers, even if that number is just two.

“I’m down, hahaha.”

The Dream that Never Was

And that was it. We never made plans. No itineraries, no packing lists. Just two friends lost in the dream of escaping to a destination that would magically make all of our worries disappear and our loneliness dissipate, if only for a little while. It wasn’t really about the flights or the shows or even the city itself. It was about a shared moment, a little spark of joy and understanding between two people navigating life’s chaos in different ways. That imagined escape reminded me that connection doesn’t have to be grand or perfectly executed. Sometimes it’s enough just to be seen, to be heard, and to know someone else gets it.

Even if we never step foot on the Strip, we’ll always have Vegas. The flights, the laughs, and the feeling that for a moment, we were exactly where we needed to be.