*Written yesterday on my last day of vacation.*
It’s pathetic that the worst part of my trip has been having to maintain an uncomfortable “head back” position while trying to keep my tan even on my neck.
There certainly isn’t anything wrong with sitting poolside in the hot sun waiting for my Pleasure Punch to arrive. Who could complain about this? Back home my mother tow me it’s a measly ten degrees Celsius and windy as all hell, so this seems the perfect way to spend my last day in Las Vegas.
My bloggers are gone, TBH had an early flight and Inris is off playing in a poker tournament, but oh– my drink has just arrived chalk full of vodka so it all balances out.
This trip has been the definition of perfect. My first trip to Vegas was with a bunch of immature whores and left something to be desired, but this trip was amazing. I’m going to fly home tonight feeling refreshed and relaxed, having seen things I’ve never seen before and been places I’ve never been, with the most amazing company.
We’ve seen the Hoover Dam, the Las Vegas sign, the wax museum, the Bellagio fountains. We saw the landscape from the window of a limousine as we sipped mimosas. We gambled– I lost, but they won! We talked about our blogs, and you, and about the loves in our lives. We set ourselves deadlines for milestones and, while I shall say no more about that, it is necessary and is nice to have friends to confide in. We toured the strip, I was saved from a snake, and we had our fortunes told by a fraudulent psychic. We ordered in, we ate out, we had expensive drinks and cheap white wine. We saw Nathan Burton’s comedy magic show, we toasted Ben Affleck, and we made a brief friendship in the elevator. We had the same man mistakenly knock on our door three times in a row, and we stayed in the biggest most incredible suite I’ve ever been in. We had a great view from the fiftieth floor, and a TV in the bathroom.
There are worse ways to spend October.