My City of Sin

Last weekend, I went on (yet another) Vegas trip. If you know me, it's an understatement to say that I frequent the city. There's something about the place that draws me to it. Free from inhibitions, everything goes. But even though you go there to escape, it always turns out to be one oversized UC party anyway.

I just felt like writing my feelings and perspective regarding this city of sin. It's not all fun and games-- in fact near the end of each night, you can probably find me with my head down in a state of contemplation. It's like a comedown when all the thoughts that I ran away from, drowned in alcohol, begin to surface and start to overwhelm. My breathing starts getting deeper and more rapid and my teeth grind together like the rusty parts of a machine running too many years past its prime.

 

How I see Vegas is like a familiar scene from a film. The protagonist, fighting his demons, seeks escape by overindulgence-- whether it's alcohol, sex, or just some sort of obsession. As a spectator, you see that there is no healing in the process, but it's how he gets by. I keep going back because that's how it works. Like a band-aid, it temporarily makes the issues that you'd rather not deal with disappear. They come back-- they always do. But for that moment, you can catch a breath and not think of the toxic fumes in the air.

It's funny, before my first time there, the ex-girlfriend (by the way, my new hair wax kind of smells like her-- it fucks with my head so much) told me that I'd love the city and at the same time there's always going to be something about it that bothers me. She never specified what, and could just be pulling something out of her ass, but is absolutely correct.

If nothing good happens after 2AM and nothing starts in Vegas until 2AM...

So, when are we going back?