Conny and I thought to ourselves, let’s do Vegas right. A decent hotel. An allotted gambling fund. Enjoy the sights and sounds, maybe get lucky and not just blow a wad.

Turns out 4*+ in Vegas is the equivalent to 2, maybe 3 stars in the rest of the world. The hotel, which was under refurb in it’s whole pool area, was not exactly big pimpin’. Ok, it wasn’t the most expensive, but at the same time, those ratings are there for a reason, as a guide…didn’t even have tea or coffee in the room, that you could get via room service at about 5 bucks a pop. Now I know why there are 7*+ hotels in Vegas. They just shifteed the bloody goalposts. I suppose, this was all in keeping with the theme of the hotel. Building everywhere, overly costly prices for nothing special services and an air of pomp and circumstance with a whiff of pretentiousness just like the “for real” Monte Carlo.

Anyway. It was pleasant enough. Conny and I decided to head out for a look at the city, take in the bright lights and spectacle of it all, grab a bight to eat and watch some of the Rock n Roll marathon folk go by.

All of this was very pleasant. I didn’t quite expect to be as enamoured by the big lights and stuff but I found it quite enchanting. The city is clean, the people are nice, when not being super loud and pissed early doors because they are in “Vegas Baby” and “all in”.

Amongst all this excess and largesse we did come back to one salient point that has rung through during the entirety of our trip. Americans, when not in super great shape, are proper beasts. Big giant fat folk. Casually walking down the street in their enormosity. Now, don’t get me wrong. If a person is comfortable with their weight more power to them. If somebody is in a battle and needs help, then that should be afforded them. I definitely do not think that a person should be ridiculed or made to feel less worthy because of their size. I do however think that it becomes a problem when this is normal. Because straight up facts wise, it ain’t healthy. It should never be promoted as a lifestyle choice that is just fine and dandy, kids should be helped prior to becoming obese and educated accordingly, not satiated in their desires for fear of feeling hurts and told that big is beautiful. Big can be beautiful, in many ways, but healthy it never will be and people who are of larger frame should understand such implications.

The fountains at the Belaggio are a veritable wonder. Expertly timed to Bruno Mars and his funk from the uptown. I was surrounded by Spaniards and Koreans singing along, with volume and only about 3% of the words correct, but rightly they were digging it and having a good time. Who cares if the uptown funk is going to give a Tuna. It was all fun, if you don’t believe me, just rot.

There were less impressive volcano displays, and even less poor approximations of Belaggio style water dances but all in all it was an excellent bit of fun. Dinner, was very USA. I have never delighted as much at the thought of a spike of onion rings. It is exactly what it sounds like. Onion rings, hooped over a footlong spike. Piled right to the top. Conny and I appropriately smashed it down. The thing about being in the international areas or tourist places or big smokes, is they kind of have to look after the vege-folk. Much of this trip I have been left wondering how vegetarians survive, and when you see the relative rabbit food they offer us vege folk in much of the US, it comes as quite the let down when you see the giant hearty fare that the omnivores get. Vegas saw me right with a giant vege burger and the lady even checked if I was ok with fries as there is a chance of cross contamination from cooking fat. What an eye opener!

Post meal, we had an interesting discussion with a few “Vegas Baby” types in a milliners store.

I had found my ideal hat. Conny does not appreciate the sweat and hard work I put into my John Deere cap to make it look as manly as it does, and wanted me to get another.

The moment I saw a trucker cap with a cock on it (bird, not phallus) with the word cock, I was sold.

The VB crew didn’t get that that was exactly why I was buying the hat and tried to inform me that cock in the US was something slightly suggestive. My accent also tickled them pink so of course I threw in a few “job’s a good’un”s “chuck a bevvy or two in you’s and finished with a “tally ho toodle pip”. I fear they think we genuinely are like Dick Van Dyke and speak in Dickensian terms like Russell Brand (for the record, I like the way he talks).

On to the strip to watch the runners go by. I recalled a facebook post from earlier that day seeing an dude I knew from school, at the Grand Canyon, a day or two after me. He had proposed to his now fiancee. I thought to myself… hmmmm, this dude is a runner….I wonder. I kept my eyes peeled for the green vests of Trentham running club but as the run was winding down I thought to myself no way. Then clear as day, walking down the street, three vests abreast, James Fowler, and two of Trentham’s finest, including wife to be. At this point, I must admit, I kind of fluffed my lines. Didn’t want to go and thrust myself upon someone’s evening after they just ran a half marathon did I. So I awkwardly shouted James…told him he probably wouldn’t remember me (I ain’t that memorable, and didn’t have 75% the fat or any of the beard at school), which he said, of course. I basically wished him and his lady friend well and fucked off. Very abrupt. Very strange, but hey, that’s me in a nutshell. It was only strange and awkward because I didn’t want to be strange and awkward.

Next up. Gambling. What a fucking damp squib that turned out to be. I basically realised after a couple of minutes that this wasn’t for me. I had no fucking clue how these people throw money after money in these machines or at games. Now I get that there are a couple of folk who actually have an idea of what the actual fuck is happening, but I, and I hazard to say 80% of those folk there, had zero clue. There is lots of jargon employed suggesting you can win this or do that…realistically I am pretty sure it’s all bullshit, but nbullshit but and pad for by happy bullshit punters. Conny lasted about thirty seconds and told me “Fuck this, I’ll be at the bar with a drink”. I basically lasted the length of that drink before calling it a night.

Vegas. Fucking weird. Kind of pleasant. Could only spend a day there.