WARNING: Stories From Three Nights In Vegas…

Eight huuuuuuundred titties. I’ve got eight huuuuuuundred titties waiting for you boys for whenever you’re ready…

Olly and I looked at each other. We were amazed. Was that even possible?

I’ll get you boys a free limo, a free bottle of champagne…

The deal kept getting sweeter and sweeter. It almost seemed too good to be true…

As we slowed our walk in ponderous amazement, we looked back and forth at one another with both curiosity and disgust. Was his offer genuine? Just how big was this place to fit 400 topless girls?

Tonight was not the night on which we were going to find out however. In fact, no night was. We continued walking only now a little faster.

‘It’s a trap!’

We seemed to repeat this to one another every few hundred metres. Passing through what we thought was an exit out of one casino, we would somehow end up in the foyer of another.

Buying a beer and finding a seat at which to enjoy it presented the challenge of finding a table without a pokie machine at it’s center. A seat at the bar was no better.

Our gaze often met that of a beautiful girl walking by.

‘Was she, errr, checking me out?’ we would ask ourselves.

Maybe. But the price tag hanging from her neck, just barely shielding her enormous silicone bust from the seedy prying eyes of the three hundred desperately dissatisfied married men in her vicinity, was certainly not what we were after. Not now. Not ever.

We would eventually find a way out of this labyrinth of lustful greed. Though not before another hour spent navigating the ocean of roulette and blackjack tables.

Finally, we made it, throwing our arms into the air proclaiming:

‘Free at last, free at last. Thank God Almighty we are free at last!’

I doubt whether a certain Martin Luther King Jr. ever foresaw his words being used for this particular purpose…

We woke up the following morning, checked out of our AirBNB two nights early and hit the road bound for San Diego which, for those of you who don’t know, means ‘A whale’s v…’.

I’ll cut myself short on that one.

Perhaps our time in Vegas might have been different had we have had thousands of dollars spare to spend. I’d like to think not. Though I can understand the temptation for those that do.

I’m sure I’ll return one day. But not to gamble. Or to have a twenty-seven year old single mum grind on my junk. Instead it will be for something much more worthwhile. Just what that is exactly, I don’t yet know.

Watch this space.

PJ.

 

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