Jennifer Plesko

So I’m back from Las Vegas. Overall, I enjoyed myself. You really can’t underestimate how therapeutic it is to lay around like a slug and read fashion magazines. My biggest decision was whether to order a pink drink or  a blue one.

However, I’m not sure why we keep visiting the desert in August. I have lived in the hottest, steamiest part of Texas my whole life and still the heat there is stifling. (Yes, I realize it doesn’t help when you lay out for three hours each day.) Plus, my body is used to 80% humidity, so when my skin and hair meet the desert, it’s all “What the - what is going on here? Water! I need water!” Perhaps the Las Vegas climate might be more accommodating in - say - February.

Anywho, although this was my third trip to Vegas in two years, I noticed things I hadn’t noticed before. First of all, it was absolutely packed. Everywhere we walked, it was body to body. That in itself is obnoxious. Add to that the astounding amount of tourists who try to walk through you instead of around you, and soon you’re wishing you packed a cattle prod. Seriously. Am I naive? Is this common in other parts of the country? Have I just been sheltered from crowds of people who would rather body slam you than say “excuse me?”

Second, maybe it was because I was on a different part of The Strip this time, but I saw a lot more odd characters this time. There was the crazy emo guy at Revolution who looked just like Christian from Project Runway. There was the 60-year-old asian woman with Tina Turner hair, tight jeans, a belt with silver spikes, and an Hermes bag trying on shoes next to me at Michael Kors. Then…there was Elvis. He’s back, y’all. And he’s tanned and Botoxed.

Finally, I have never seen so many people on Rascals in my entire life. It was like an elderly motorcycle gang busting through the casinos. Of course, after walking mile four in my stilettos, I could’ve used a Rascal as well. Because I still refuse to wear Crocs.