#VanLife Meets Las Vegas

Memorial Day Weekend

There is little else better than the ever deep, sound, coma-like sleep that settles each and every tense nerve in your fried body. As the sun gently pries its way under your eyelashes, you question if in fact you were waking from death. Memories from moments passed are nowhere to be found, as your senses take in the warmth of the day peaking though the blinds, and the sleeping hunk of covers curled up next to you, with their arm, probably lacking circulation, holding you close. Nothing at that moment matters more than that simple perfect everything.

Magic Poison

So, then there’s Vegas. What is there to do in a place made of lost dollars? When every last penny earned from items bargained down at your last ditch yard sale, rests in your hideaway place for diesel fuel, food and adventure? You think to yourself, “What constitutes adventure?” Then, you look out your 12th story condo window to the people below. “Holy shit, it’s Memorial Day Weekend.” Hoards of scantily clad, spray tanned, liquored up masses, stumbled around like zombies under the scathing sun. Women, knocking their knees together like baby deer learning to walk, as they combated the sidewalk with their sky scraper stilettos. They carried long plastic space-agey shaped vessels, main-lining high fructose corn syrup through penis shaped straws. Cement grade hairspray holding their gravity defying poofs, and pomps, and whatever elses in its locked and upright position. Not even a tsunami could knock a hair out of place (Snookie would be proud). Many clung to each other, some training their young, wide-eyed Bambis in the art of “ladies night”, others chased after their equally orange, “Ed Hardy” boyfriends as they enacted their alfa-male, chest thumping, protein shake pounding rituals with fellow greased up guidos. All of them weaving in and out of the solicitors handing out flyers (faster than candy) with images of semi-sensored strippers that you could have for the night… Well, for 90% of America, I guess this is adventure, and who am I to judge?

Saving up for that one weekend a year that will theoretically, “stay in Vegas” (along with that extra money that you weren’t really planning on spending, and well I guess it’s Vegas, and everyone else is doing it, and I really had a feeling that ‘Star Wars’ slot machine really was going to pay out that time… I swear…Hey, where’s my drink?). Memories made and then lost with the next order of shots, as you help fulfill a Bachelorette party’s ‘To-Do List’ of semi-compromising acts on her last night of “freedom”. It’s Vegas baby, now spend your money!

Ummm…. Maybe, but first I’m going to enjoy this hot tub, some free wi-fi, and this full kitchen (with an oven!) I now have access to for the next few days. Then, perhaps, I’ll squeeze in a few delicious meals, continue to enjoy the EPIC people watching, and observe others gambling away their hard-earned dough, as I try to unearth the secret to luck, with my wallet safely tucked away. I am no poker maverick, and I plumb suck at lying, so I don’t see luck doing me any good anywhere around the tables. I’ll leave that crazy business to Hot Man.

Our few days in Vegas consisted of a visit to Hofbräuhaus with our friend to enjoy a giant tasty pretzel, some frothy adult beverages, and to witness the ‘Jager Paddle’. Holy Cannoli is that one of the most ridiculous things I’ve ever seen. People pay to get a serious THWACK with a grade school paddle from either the JAGER LADY, or from one of your friendly bustiere-ed  waitresses. PAY. Yeah… I’m good with my salty starch, thanks.

Beer With New Friends

Then we ventured over to the Crown & Anchor for a few more tasty libations until it was time to say goodnight.

Crown and Anchor

We also explored some of the last bits of Vegas that I had yet to see while scoring some free booze as we loitered around the Poker tables. Vegas seamed to have offered up as much excitement as I was willing to pay for. As exciting as a Cirque Du Soleil show would be, that’s a full tank of gas! I was happy to leave it at that.

Well, Hot Man had other ideas. See, he heard me sing an old Sesame Street song that I had learned from voice lessons in the 7th Grade a few days before, and had got to thinking… Why not make a video? And why not in Vegas??? So, after acquiring some bubble bath and a rubber duckie, we headed back to the condo and made this:

Vegas brings out the spray tan and dollar signs for some, for me, it was my inner theater kid 🙂

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