Vegas, Baby

I'm supposed to hate Vegas. I mean if you dissect it, I hate most of it's individual pieces. It's loud; I hate that. It's bright; hate it. It's over-the-top; yep, hate that, too. It's fake; It's a city built in a place there shouldn't even be a city. Everything about this town is fake from the facades to the boobs.

The view from my bathtub (see "over-the-top")

Yet, I just can't bring myself to hat it at all. In fact, I love this city. Maybe it's the fact that at any hour of the day you've got a variety of poker room choices. Maybe because it's a tourist-centered hospitality city. Service workers here do go out of their way to make you feel taken care of.

Or maybe it's just because they'll sell you a "roady" at the airport bar.

"You want one to go?"

"You want one to go?"

Yeah. I love this town.

Venetian canals in a desert. Sure, why not.

Venetian canals in a desert. Sure, why not.