Las Vegas: the city of dreams. With its famous hotels, its dancing neon lights, its fountain shows, and the gut-wrenching, empty feeling of losing $150 in 15 minutes, Vegas pleases the eye while abusing the wallet.
East-coast principles are about as valuable in Vegas as a broke college grad trying to sit at the $500 minimum blackjack tables. This was especially evident at the craps tables, where we all posted up the second night to take advantage of free drinks. Big Tex, Creepy Black Shirt Guy, and Bracelet Guy played across the table from us. We were initially appalled at Big Tex and Creepy Black Shirt guy's treatment of two half-their-age women, open-mouth kissing them prior to every roll. What were these respectable young women doing with Big Tex and Creepy Black Shirt Guy? We were perplexed until a police officer informed us that those women were in fact prostitutes. Creepy Black Shirt Guy is probably a Red-Dot Guy also. Disgusting. For those of you hoping to glean more details about our descent into Nevada's sordid pit of bottomless morals, you'll have to settle for the now cliche marketing slogan: What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas. But you can take comfort in the knowledge that we all emerged with our dignity intact.
Ali, the girl who joined us in Boulder, flew out on the morning of day two in Vegas.
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