Three Strikes

Dear Sophie,
Three strikes and you're out; unless absolutely critical, you're finished in Vegas. After the last two disastrous trips here, why did I think you might handle it better this time? Flashing lights, loud noises, mobs of people, and noplace remotely comfortable to park-it made for a stressful, miserable four days for you. With all these distractions leading to your pulling me over once and then falling over a brick planter that you walked me right into, you were more hinderance than help by a long shot. That's way out of your character. It was my fault, though ... expecting too much of you for one thing and, for another, returning you to a place I know you hate. It might be an embarrassing blog entry to admit all this, but I need to tattle on both of us to make sure I don't yield to the temptation to bring you back here thinking it'll be different the next time. It won't. Having this to reread and remind me will make me think twice before subjecting you to this again. I'm sorry, Sophie. Forgive me?