Sunday, March 11, 2007

Vegas: Color Me Disappointed

"Patrick, I don't know how this happened. We grew up pretty much poor, but somehow, somewhere along the line we became snobs." These are the remarkably astute words of my learned (and hysterical) sister, Lisa. The funniest part about her comments are that they are exceptionally true.

As promised last week, I'm bringing GGWG to you live from Las Vegas! In the lead up to this week, I was so excited. I packed my saucy, come-hither-clothes, made sure the Dolce & Gabbana cologne was in a holster at my side, readied my left hand to throw down a Hamilton (yeah, that's the way I roll) at the drop of a hat. I pictured everything all sexy and flashy, you know like on the Las Vegas TV program. I'm sorry to say, I'm disappointed.

This always happens to me. When I get excited about something I build it up in my head to the point that it WILL be the most magical experience of my life. I just KNOW it will. Then, inevitably, it falls short of my expectations, and I fall into a deep downward spiral of drunken texting. It really isn't pretty.

"Patrick! Why are you so disappointed?" you ask. Well,thanks for caring.


Here's the deal: this place is pooey.

Let's start with the people as they make up the majority of my problem here. To my middle American readers, don't take this the wrong way, but why is everyone so fat? Maybe I just take for granted that in New York everyone walks everywhere, but jeeze! To most of the clientele here sweat pants are not a fashion statement, but a modus operandi.

Then there are the locals. In my vivid imagination, I pictured voluptuous women, confidently strolling like stylish throwbacks from the 1950's. What do I get? Fake titties and melanoma (which is not a joke, always wear sunscreen).

Also, EVERYONE smells like the characters outside the liquor store on 41st and 9th. It is that stank stench of people who are not just currently drunk, but have been drunk for the past (4) days and their livers are working overtime to create the worst smell possible in a futile attempt to get their mouths to stop the intake of booze.

Moving to the casinos themselves. From friends who have made past visits, I heard nothing but tales of how the casinos are the definition of luxe design and opulence. I'm sorry, these places look like they could be broken down in a week and used in the Clarion County Players' production of Oklahoma.

"Patrick, you're just a dick," you say. I would be the first to agree. As Lisa said, somehow I became a snob. In the shattered dream of what I thought Sin City was, the fault doesn't lie in Vegas. The blame lies squarely on my shoulders. It is my overactive imagination that has, once again, set me up for a fall. It is time, as I always do, to take crap and make crapade....

They call 'em "escorts" here right?

2 comments:

Leigh Ann said...

You've been a snob for a long time, dear Patrick. It's just that now you don't care if someone disagrees. It's one of your best qualities really.

Sami said...

Your sister is a hoot and astute too! I tend to agree with your assessment regarding Vegas. I wasn't all that impressed myself. Maybe we "Marionites" are immune to the faux glitz. Coming from the armpit of America thats hard to imagine but it must be true.

It's the people in sweat pants and no teeth that throw down the big bucks in the casino (dollar slots as compared to my quarter slots).

The best thing about my Vegas trip was the show I went to see, hanging with my insane friends for three days on little sleep, little food and massive amounts of booze (oh god, did I smell like I should have a tin can in front of me?)

In the immortal words of JD Fortune (I so did not say that did I?) It Ain't Pretty After the Show

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