I flew in on a flight that gave me a bizarre panic attack, which is later identified as being because of Taffy. The last time I was on a SouthWest flight was the day she died, and I was coming home from AdaCamp in San Francisco. The flight was also the same length of time my Chicago-Cleveland runs used to take, and finally the only time I’ve been in Vegas before? With Taffy. Once that was sorted, I felt much better, and took a cab to my hotel.
The drive in did not make the trip any less surreal. I watch CSI, of course, and I like the show, even now when it’s old and grey. I have a vested interest in the show one might say. I saw the mountains and my brain started playing the normal SFX they use on the intros. The mountains are pretty by the way. At the hotel, when I (finally) got my room, I did my normal poke and prod to see how I liked it. Soap smelled bad, meh, I have my own, oh look a big window! The first thing I thought was “I could kill someone, leave out the window, use a string to re-tie the latch, jump down to the roof of the garage, and slip out by the pool.”
I may watch too much CSI.
The rest of the trip was just surreal. There was a rotating billboard that had ads for brothels followed by ones telling me I’m going to hell for gambling. I burst out laughing at that. The city is insanely bright without ever making you feel like it’s light out. I walked down Fremont Street, and then the strip. I saw the Bellagio Water Show and pretty much enjoyed the architecture. I have no interest in smoking, drinking, or gambling, so for me it was putting a face to the place I’ve known for years.
And I did enjoy myself. But Vegas is weird, man. It made me realize that CSI wasn’t doing a whole lot to make up the show, it really is that strange a place!