Viva Las Vegas
Last week, I traveled to Las Vegas (for the first time!) to attend two back-to-back conferences. Vegas, to me, seems like the kind of place that you either love or hate, and I must admit that I fall more into the "hate" category. It was over 100 degrees for the majority of the week, though thankfully our conference limited us (for the most part) to two connected hotels that were very air-conditioned. Many people prepped me for my trip by suggesting that, yes, it is hot, but it's a "different kind" of heat than we have in the northeast because it is so dry.
Let me tell you something. There is no mistaking that Las Vegas is very dry (I got three[!] nosebleeds while I was there) but regardless of the type of heat, over 100 degrees = sweat. Lots (and lots) of it. Yuck.
My first night there, I was required to walk through a (smokey) casino in order to check into the hotel (the Paris Las Vegas). As I walked my exhausted self quickly past the flashing lights & various noises of the slot machines (after a full day of travel, all I wanted to do was lay down), I noticed two women in purple, sparkly, stiletto platforms (yep, the exist) and fishnet bikinis. This surprised me, even though I suppose I should have expected such sights in Sin City, and when I finally had checked in and made my way up 30 floors, I was thrilled to be able to lay down. Even though it was late, I turned on the TV so that I could wind down with a sitcom or hey - maybe some trashy reality TV. The first screen that appeared was a menu, which prompted me to select a number (1-8) which corresponded with a TV choice. I selected #7 for late night TV (Jay Leno? Craig Ferguson?) and was instead greeted by title after title after title of dirty porn movies. YUCK. I frantically turned off the TV and fell asleep pretty shortly thereafter.
The overall trip was actually pretty good -- I enjoyed time with two co-workers, played $40 in the slots (it's Vegas, after all!), ate some really good food (and promptly gained at least 2.5 lbs), and saw the strip (in all its unholy glory!), including the Bellagio fountains. But when all was said and done, I was very ready to leave the big city and get back to my small, comfortable, and (dare I say) sheltered existence in Rhode Island.
Let me tell you something. There is no mistaking that Las Vegas is very dry (I got three[!] nosebleeds while I was there) but regardless of the type of heat, over 100 degrees = sweat. Lots (and lots) of it. Yuck.
My first night there, I was required to walk through a (smokey) casino in order to check into the hotel (the Paris Las Vegas). As I walked my exhausted self quickly past the flashing lights & various noises of the slot machines (after a full day of travel, all I wanted to do was lay down), I noticed two women in purple, sparkly, stiletto platforms (yep, the exist) and fishnet bikinis. This surprised me, even though I suppose I should have expected such sights in Sin City, and when I finally had checked in and made my way up 30 floors, I was thrilled to be able to lay down. Even though it was late, I turned on the TV so that I could wind down with a sitcom or hey - maybe some trashy reality TV. The first screen that appeared was a menu, which prompted me to select a number (1-8) which corresponded with a TV choice. I selected #7 for late night TV (Jay Leno? Craig Ferguson?) and was instead greeted by title after title after title of dirty porn movies. YUCK. I frantically turned off the TV and fell asleep pretty shortly thereafter.
The overall trip was actually pretty good -- I enjoyed time with two co-workers, played $40 in the slots (it's Vegas, after all!), ate some really good food (and promptly gained at least 2.5 lbs), and saw the strip (in all its unholy glory!), including the Bellagio fountains. But when all was said and done, I was very ready to leave the big city and get back to my small, comfortable, and (dare I say) sheltered existence in Rhode Island.
Comments
Post a Comment