I'm in Vegas this weekend for a conference for work.
I love going to these work conferences. It's fun to see new cities and meet the writers I often only ecommunicate with.
But if you were to ask me to name 500 places I'd want to go visit, Vegas wouldn't be on the list. There's something about it that seemed to me to be like Midtown on crack.
I tried to get into the spirit though. Before the trip I took lessons on blackjack from one the writer's, and I booked a ticket on the "fun, sexy airline" Virgin.
But as soon as I landed here this afternoon, I wanted to turn around and go back to New York.
Maybe it was because the cab line was longer than that of JFK and it was go see fake New York that irked me. We drove along highways that advertised shows with inflated prices, hotels that all seem so excessive, and then we get to our hotel, The Mirage.
It's lovely here, but there are so many tourists, and they all walk sooo slooow.
The food is more over priced, except Orbit gum seems to be the same price, which is good.
I should also mention I don't really gamble. So the slot machines just kinda serve as a walk through headache.
In hopes of easing my misanthropic angst co-worker Dennis and I went to lunch at BLT, an amazing burger place in the Mirage. The burger was delicious, as was the beer we got in hopes of mellowing me. Now I just kinda feel like a bloated misanthrope.
Maybe I'm just over tired.
Whatever it is, I have to turn this frown upside down and find some good in this town. Cause I'm here until Monday and my goal is to have as much fun as possible.
I guess it's time to order that whore, or make nice to a business traveler.
(thanks for the advice Willy B)
I think I'll just settle for doing what I love doing when I travel. Watching local news on a comfy bed.