Disclaimer: I’m going to be real with you, the following words are not going to be pretty. So it might be in your best interest to turn back now or get caught in a wave of rants.
If there is anything I hate more than sweetener in my ice tea and sitting in gridlock traffic on the 405, it’s Las Vegas. Even thinking about it now makes me want to punch a clown in the face. True. I always want to punch clowns in the face for messing up my childhood but Vegas makes me want to double punch them!
The other weekend, in celebration of sweet Joe coming back to the United States, JJ and I decided to go with him on his first trip to Vegas. Years from now, when Joe and I are sitting on rockers drinking beer in the retirement home, I’ll continue to remind him that people may love him but I loved him enough to go to Vegas so I am the only one who deserves the best friend crown. And his book collection when he’s gone.
I won’t lie, there were some great trip moments. JJ and I ditched the day club for unlimited dessert and champagne, we looked at fancy clothes we couldn’t afford, and watched Sherlock with gin and tonics in our hands. And if nothing else, I got to see the beautiful transformation that happened below. That was worth it in itself.
^^ It’s too beautiful for words. ^^
But mostly, Vegas is made up of everything I go out of my way to avoid. I don’t like clubbing dresses and more than that, I hate wearing heels to go dancing. Makeup confuses me and plastic girls with their microscopic dresses make me roll my eyes in exasperation. The clubs are too crowded to dance and the drinks too expensive to enjoy. The music is too loud to talk with anyone and everywhere you turn there is a line — the bathroom, the bar, the club, the taxis. It’s all about knowing the right strangers and wearing the right thing and ignoring the fact that nothing is real. Not the clubs or the buildings or the people you’re meeting. It actually made Los Angeles look like the city of dreams which is no small feat in my eyes.
For me, nothing beats the greatness of a dive bar, a black and tan, and the option of ordering another pitcher for under seven dollars. Joe and JJ, I love you dearly but next time, we’re talking a train up north and sitting under a pine tree for four days.
So Vegas, this is the end of the road for us. Please never call me again. Like literally ever. We’re breaking up forever and I can honestly say, it’s a hundred percent you and not me.