Truth: I’ve never been excited about America. I blame S Club 7 for the British hold they had over my 12-year-old eyes and ears. So when the December’s Las Vegas trip happened, I really just went with it. I hadn’t even known it was a goldmine that sucked tourists into a dark, infinite black hole.

The Strip in the day and The Strip at night are almost polar opposites. In the night, the hotels light up, the casinos are buzzing and each time we were there, my body celebrated with magic. The manic screams from New York New York’s rollercoaster and the whooshing of The Bellagio’s fountain made me feel like I was in a giant themed park – Universal Studios for grown-ups. But come day time, you see trails of litter: a large percentage made up of empty Gin bottles and suspicious-looking used tissues. So sexy.

That’s not to say I was kept away from The Strip in the day. I maximized my shopping time extensively at The Fashion Show Mall (crazy name) and went nutters at Anthropologie and Forever 21. I could only wish that Urban Outfitters resonated better with my shopping budget. $60 for a camisole? #howaboutno.


One night we found ourselves at The Chandelier at The Cosmopolitan (kind of confusing) and it was such a beauty! The jewels from the ceiling hang above and the DJ spun 1920s-esque beats. Drinks didn’t cost too much more than what you’d find in Singapore. I didn’t get a picture, but The Cosmopolitan had the best-looking casino on The Strip. The wood on the roulette tables were gleaming and polished, the dealers looked like pop stars and the girls dancing atop the tables were probably Beyonce’s back-up dancers at one point.

One thing that disappointed me was the lack of drama. I figured I’d see Barney Stinsons all around; it is Sin City after all, throwing wads of greens across the table and in the air, disappearing into the dirty night while smoking their Davidoffs. But no. All I got were white American men in Neckermans and polo shirts glued to the roulette & old grannies with high socks and walking canes. Even on New Year’s Eve when I was stumbling in and out of hotel lobbies (AKA casinos – every hotel lobby is literally a gambling den) to avoid the cold, I spied with my intoxicated, beady eye that some people were simply unaware it was the new year. Why people why?? Your money has more value being with me and in the club I just stumbled out of.

I kid. I was not drunk.

I kid. I was.

I walked back to my room in The Westin without my coat because I was determined to sleep the alcohol off and could not “wait in line for a half hour” for it. Snoop Dogg, you were great, but it’s 2am, which in my world, is really 5am with a hangover already burgeoning, and my make-up, shoes and clothes need to come off now. I’ll take that hot shower over Gin and Juice, please.

The Strip is really quite a sight to behold though.

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