I just got back from a whirlwind, weekend trip to Vegas – a celebration of a birthday that happened five months ago. Obviously, we had a blast. Buffets, open bars, fountains that freakin’ dance? It’s a magical place. But in the cold, clinical light of Newark Airport at 5am on a Tuesday, all I could remember was the Vegas that usually does stay in Vegas. Forget everything you learned from Katy Perry and in Ocean’s Eleven-Thirteen, this what Vegas is actually all about.
White People Music
You can’t take three steps in Vegas without being subjected to Daughtry, Matchbox Twenty/Rob Thomas, Fleetwood Mac, or our aforementioned cupcake-breasted friend, Katy Perry. I assume that uber-powerful, shady casino men in double-breasted suits have studied our habits and found that we stay 1.6 hours longer at the craps table if the PA is blasting, “WHAT ABOUT NOW? WHAT ABOUT TODAAAAY?”
Welcome to Happy Hour! You’ll return to the bar roughly 12 times to get the equivalent of one drink intended for a human adult.
It’s impossible to walk a straight line from the Bellagio to the Trop, or anywhere else for that matter, and not just because there are mustachioed men in neon t-shirts at every corner, trying to shove the business cards of escorts into your pocket. The Strip runs on escalators, and 3 out of 4 of them are broken down as hell. So…stairs. This is why god created fold-up ballet flats that fit in your purse.
I learned on my Mexican Rivera cruise (a long, long story for another time, or possibly never), that Australian culture puts a strong emphasis on travel and exploration. I’m not sure that exploring other cultures was a big sell for Colin, who was often found wandering the Lido Deck alone at 4am with melted pina colada in hand. But I’m sure he’s the exception. Nevertheless, Aussie accents and football jerseys abound in Sin City.
Blog friends, have you ever been to Vegas? Share the stuff you think Las Vegas likes in the comments.