Come closer, sweet maybe.

I didn’t expect to really like Las Vegas, to be honest. I was excited about the trip, about being off work and I was a mixture of excitement and horror about going on an airplane for the first time. The entire premise of Las Vegas never made me warm and fuzzy. Even thinking about it made me feel kind of cheap and dirty. Like the sluts that were plastered on trading cards, magazines and trucks all over the strip.

But my mama wanted to go to go. And if there’s anything I’ve learned from years of being the child of a single mother, it’s to not piss off the one remaining parent who can still tolerate you. Oh, and also, don’t say no to free trips.

I was kind of hoping to come back rich, married or at the very least, a slightly darker shade of skin than most of the people in my life, but as luck would have it, er.. not have it, I guess, I came back with none of the above and an addition to Krispy Kreme donuts instead. What fun.

I wouldn’t even mention it if it wasn’t for the fact that the only thing that flagged airport security was my smuggled box of donuts. Not the illegally pirated DVDs I bought in Chinatown or razor I forgot to put back in my checked suitcase.. no no, they only caught the donuts.

And after I explained that I hadn’t spoken to my boyfriend in 5 days and that there are very few (if any) Krispy Kreme shops in Canada, I think she took pity on me and let me keep them.

And off on the second plane ride of my life I went… Ba dum dum dum dum dum…

And I didn’t even die. I only experienced a few moments of excruciating pain when my ear popped on the way back down but other than that, I survived being away from real life for 5 days. 

All in all, it was a rather different vacation. When we weren’t completely jet-lagged, we did typical Vegas-y things. We consumed our fair share of alcohol during the day, took an appropriate amount of photos and gambled our faces off. My mother got hit on by an Elvis impersonator and spent the rest of our trip talking about it and I was given a phone number by some 30-something Californian dude I never plan on seeing again in my life. 

Not even if I go to California. And not even if he is $17,000 richer post-Vegas.

Even with a Rocky Road-flavoured relationship, the adulterous nature of Vegas didn’t  shake my morals to their core. It actually made me want more of a commitment. But that could have had something to do with the fact that there were more chapels than drunk, obnoxious men looking to get laid. And there were a lottt of obnoxious drunk men looking to get laid.

Like they say, absence makes the heart grow fonder. And so do shots of Absinthe.

Amongst other things, of course.

The moral of the story, my little ponies, is that Las Vegas isn’t everything people make it out to be. Yes, it’s sparkly and beautiful and definitely suited my appropriately-sparkly attire, but it didn’t make me feel like anything could happen. Because it couldn’t.

I don’t think I was ready for it to. Whatever that means.

pinkcrush.