Viva Las Vegas

This one time, I visited the opulent metropolis of Las Vegas.

It was the weekend where the dance beats replaced my heart beats, and luxury reigned over all.

The trip itself was something I looked forward to very much, you see, because the rest of my weeks are spent at a copper mine clunking around in steel-toe boots.

And, to tell you the truth, I missed the clip-clopping of high heels, the swooshing of a dress, and the thickness of hairsprayed curls.

I met my good friend there. She was my roommate all through University. But this time, Instead of sleeping on worn, single beds in the uni residence, we dove into the luxury of our king beds, giggling about all the possibilities the weekend held.



We clipped and clopped up and down Las Vegas Boulevard until our toes were replaced by blisters. And we marveled our endurance and fortitude—only aided by iced chai teas… and other beverages of choice.

We attended a whimsical performance of Cirque du Soleil’s “O” at the Bellagio hotel and soaked in the bravado of performers diving from the ceiling into a stage made of water. We left, our faces wet with dew from the splashes that reached our front row seating.

Excuse the grainy collages. Picasa and I are fighting.

On the way home we stopped for a short time at a bar with sparkly tables and enjoyed a drink that was just as strong as it was pink. We were convinced they must have been $charging$ for vibrancy of colour… and enjoyment of company, of course.

{and no, I’m not talking about the scantily clad women that were dancing in the background.}

Please note: we were not at any sort of strip club, simply in the midst of what seems to be the norm in Vegas: equal parts sumptuous and scandalous.

The next day we remedied our privileged complaints of sore feet (and heads) with manicures, pedicures, and a morning by the pool.

Now, please, don’t think that this is the norm for me. I’m not much of a diva, (and don’t listen to my boyfriend if he tells you differently!) I like to think I work hard, stay grounded in reality, and only like to pretend that this lifestyle suits me once in a while… but don’t we all…



In the next few days we walked more of the strip, ate lunch and drank drinks at some splendid digs, and went dancing twice. Because,well, when in Rome…



...But, I’m not sure I can sound as classy when I say “when in Vegas, do as the locals do” because, the people there are crazy!! I slur, erm, I mean say that lovingly… But I’m certain, they’re crazy.



Sinfully opulent doesn’t even begin to explain the extravagant norm here.

We walked red carpets- pretending we belonged, skipped line-ups as VIP’s and only felt a little bit guilty {as any small town girls would}.

We enjoyed an open bar-- because even though you feel guilty being so spoiled; the $15-a-drink tab deters you from arguing differently.



The “Party Rock”ed. Somewhat literally—LMFAO (the band) showed up one night at ‘LAVO’ to mingle and take “shot shot shot shot shots” and sing their Anthem, of course.




But, I can say for sure that even in the lap of luxury you realize the cliché ‘the grass is greener on the other side’ is a bit true.

To live a lavish lifestyle makes you realize how comfy and safe those steel-toed boots are.
To party with strangers makes you realize how much you love your family and friends at home,
and to excite in the frivolousness makes you realize that purposeful tasks feel pretty darn good.

We had a great time, and after ‘viva’-ing Las Vegas… I’m really into ‘viva’-ing this moment.

PS. Please read on to the next post to see some beautiful blogger photographers who have linked up with their photos of trees!