Despite the fact that I have been taking more vacation time than usual this year, I really felt I had little option when last month I was presented with an invitation to attend a wedding in Las Vegas. I had never been, and hadn't really thought about going myself until I was given a valid excuse. So off to Sin City I went this weekend. Of course, I was touring Sin City in the company of dear old Mom and Dadoo, but happily, we're a twisted little brood.
Considering that Las Vegas represents many things that I am stereotypically not, I kept my expectations low. It is rather an outrageous place. The real depraved heart of the place is all squeezed into a few bright shiny miles on the Strip, and it's so garish it becomes strangely endearing. Everything is fake -- fake New York, fake Venice, fake Paris -- it's like Epcot on steroids. We ourselves were staying in fake Egypt at the Luxor. If you do not willfully abandon your sense of tact and elegance, you will be sure to have a rotten time. If, however, you get in the spirit of things, you can have quite a bit of fun.
I quickly declared that as long as I was here, I wanted to get tipsy, lose money and see a show with nekkid people, consarn it. So the family Shepherd (minus brother Bob, whose birthday weekend drinking schedule could not be interrupted by any kind of travel) took in a lovely night at the theater at Cirque du Soleil's Zumanity. Fair warning: Do not look at that site at work.
Las Vegas is hot as hell (it was 100 degrees and dry dry dry), the whole place is designed to part you with your money, getting around can be so confusing and exhausting as to induce apocalyptic arguments, and Mom and Dad swore they would never pass that way again. By all rights, I should have been apalled. But I kinda dug it. I don't think I need to go every year, and three days was plenty. But I may go back someday. Next time I might try it without the parents. I bet it's a bit different.
Robyn
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