‘When in Rome!’…..or Las Vegas

The air is thick with heat like you’ve just opened an oven door. You walk into your hotel in a reverie, eyes glazing over with sensory overload. Whoops and cheers go up from glittering roulette tables in your peripherals. People are dressed in either denim shorts and souvenir t-shirts or dolled up to the nines. Two girls looking glossy and preened sip cocktails at a bar. It could be 6am or 6pm. The concept of time loses all meaning.


Food portions the size of your head. Buildings the size of planets. Drinks stronger than steel. Everything here is on steroids. Everything here is utterly unapologetic. The hardest decision you’ve had to make is whether to have a frozen margarita or a frozen pina colada by the pool. The sun so fierce your sweat doesn’t even have time to collect on your face, it’s instantly evaporated into the desert sky, huge, indigo and endless.


People watching is at it’s prime. Surreal characters enter stage right, flicker before your eyes like an Americana show-reel of bizarre. Strangers strike up conversation with no hesitance, everybody’s friends in the city of endless splurge. Go with it. This isn’t the place for reservations.

On paper Las Vegas is not the kind of holiday destination I thought I’d ever like. The suggestion of a girls holiday (Bruges maybe? We could go for a long weekend!) morphed into Vegas after a few wines. And you know what? I absolutely loved it. Not what I would call a relaxing holiday, more of an endurance test. But bloody brilliant nonetheless. The lights were blinding, the heat beautifully exhausting (and you know how I like my heat), the company spectacular (big up my babez), the laughs endless.


I wore high heels every day, something I was a little worried about, but limpy leg held out! I got my baps out by the pool (the ‘European’ pool – no kids, lots of tits)! I went horse riding for the first time in 5 years in the vast expanse of the baking desert! I ate ice cream and dim sum for breakfast! I had cocktails before midday! I watched beautiful, beautiful men dance like gods (HIGHLY recommend the Magic Mike show. Less cringe-worthy wangs, more ‘oh dear god find me a man that can dance like that’)! I danced and danced and danced until I almost forgot what the past few months had been like.

At risk of sounding like a massive cheeseball, it really is the moments and the people that make life. Now if only I could remember any of Vegas……I kid, I kid! Like a beautiful fever dream, these memories will stick with me forever. Thank you ladies, and thank you Sin City.


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