Las Vegas, I hate you
Everything here screams at me. The loud music that is only tolerable with a few drinks under my belt, the flashing lights that draw my eyes to the altar of easy money. Push this button! Win MILLIONS!!!!!! Booze, cheap and expensive, wafts off everyones breath, streams out their pores and makes me gag. This is early in the evening on a Sunday but still there are people staggaring around somewhere between sobriety and bliss. It is the lords day, so everyone is sneaking home to responsbility. The well applied makeup from Saturday night still caked in a grotesque mask on their faces, a pitiable mockery of feminine beauty. I have no interest in the fake tits, the bleached blonde hair, the aging trophies that cling desperately to their fat, khaki clad husbands. Maybe I’m too cynical because I cannot take part in the Bacchanalian debauchery. Barred because of my age from curing my despair in a bottle of Patron, or Jose. My only hope is that my plane isn’t delayed any longer……..
