the meadows

as my plane landed in las vegas last wednesday night, the steward announced "welcome to lost wages!" groan. i expected it to be that kind of trip - where the cheesiness of everyone and everything overwhelms the genuine and authentic. it was approaching nine in the evening in sin city and i was already bone tired from working all day and flying five hours. my hands were covered in sticky residue from the red wine that i'd spilled on my traytable and i could barely breathe because the guy next to me smelled, literally, like salty overcooked roast beef. this was how my first trip to las vegas (which our dribbly-nosed, sunbaked, chef/bricklayer/hoover dam tour bus driver-on-a-soapbox-about-everything-that's-wrong-with-america told us translates to "the meadows") began.

las vegas, i was wrong about you.

i adored the damn place.

i liked the fact that all five of my senses were stimulated at once for prolonged periods of time. las vegas satisfied my restlessness and desire for distraction. it felt good to be doing things i don't usually do. money lost its meaning. time seemed irrelevant. we ran into celebrities, ordered room service, and spent hours luxuriating at the spa. it was so far from normal life that it felt like a real vacation.

mostly, though, i think i went to vegas at the right time in my life and with the right people. i had some extra cash to spend, so i wasn't overly concerned about how damn expensive it was. i am not so young that i was actively seeking or attracting mischief. on the other hand, i am not too old to wear fun outfits and thoroughly enjoy the free booze. i went with a nice-sized group of friends who share my general sentiments and with whom i always have a ball.

and. maybe the best part of going to las vegas is coming home to my normal wonderful life feeling that some of my restlessness has been massaged/gambled/partied away. in the best way.