Vegas was probably not the best choice of location to recover from Coachella at. Dubbed the city of sin for good reason, I knew that as we made our way through the Californian/Nevada desert that our final three days in America probably wouldn’t involve too many early nights…
Upon arrival to the sandy and windy city I realised it was everything I had expected and unfortunately I had not expected much. The main strip was filled with locals trying to take advantage of the hordes of tourists that stumbled up the streets in a dazed state. There were all sorts of costumed characters trying to stop anyone for a souvenir picture (for a small fare) restaurateurs dancing outside their faded velvet ropes trying to entice customers in and a million people trying to sell discount tickets to the events that were never going to sell out. This was not my cup of tea.
We spent the first day aimlessly wandering about the city, trying to get our bearings and using our time to try and decide exactly what we should do whilst in Vegas. We walked around shopping malls which had cloud painted ceilings, giving off an illusion of the outdoors. We visited casinos filled with obese, chain smoking gamblers. I think that just after a few hours I decided my favourite part of Vegas was the hotel room.
Perhaps it was the exhaustion from the previous week of partying at Coachella, but I was just not that interested in a city where everything seemed fake. However on our last night in Vegas something happened that forced me to change my opinion. Months earlier I had booked the girls and myself tickets to Britney Spears’ – Piece of Me show at Planet Hollywood and it was AMAZING. After consuming a literal bathtub of Bud Light my intoxicated friends and I got a cab to the casino down the strip (FYI no Ubers in Vegas). Despite the abundance of lip synching the show was incredible. Britney pumped out hit after hit, making the crowd (particularly me) go crazy. The particular show that we attended even made world headlines for the fact that Brit called a member of the crowd an asshole (retaliation after being called a ‘fat bitch’).
The rest of the night turned into one of those ‘Hangover-part 2’ style of evenings. I awoke the next morning wearing a wrist band to some unknown club and the taste of some fatty burger still lingering in my mouth… or was that vomit?
In a hazy rush I managed to transfer my pile of clothing from the floor to my pack before catching another cab to the airport to jump on my next flight to Cancun, Mexico. It was hard to believe that my time in the USA had come to an end. However, this didn’t mean the adventure was over. Next stop: Mexico.