First things first. As you may have gathered from the title, I’m throwing “What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas” out the window for this post. Or, over the balcony. You’ll see why this is a more fitting metaphor in a minute. We fancy Glass Duffle a travel blog, among other things. I’m not going to let someone’s (genius) marketing campaign forbid me from sharing blurry memories and 9 photos of Las Vegas.
I recently mentioned in a more emotional post that I was preparing for a trip to Nevada’s infamous Sin City. The fact that I am typing this is concrete proof that I survived said vacation. Of course, not without learning a few things first. In true GD form, these aren’t your run-of-the-mill Vegas tips. I won’t be sharing gambling secrets. No cameos by strippers or police officers, either. I’d rather share things you wouldn’t find on any other travel site. With that being said, even if i did have anything to share with you on those subjects, I’d be willing to fully enforce the aforementioned marketing campaign. Such is Vegas.
A GoPro does not grant invincibility
Neither does alcohol. One long night at Marquee Nightclub had me waking up the next morning (afternoon) with a carpet pattern imprinted on my face and a tweet mention from @MarqueeLV. They were asking if I had recovered the GoPro that I had accidentally dropped onto Rebecca and Fiona‘s turntables. I was so excited (intoxicated) by the prospect of capturing such an extravagant nightclub on film that I ignored my own personal safety and the responsibilities of the club’s staff. Security helped me retrieve the little guy once the lights turned on and the music stopped … at 6AM. They calmly explained that there was no way they could stop the show to get my camera. This made total sense, and led to some delayed embarrassment the next day. Props to Marquee for handling the situation (me) with care.
Look at the view, don’t think about it
As you’ll see below, our view from Cosmopolitan was impressive. In small doses. On a breezy afternoon, my brother and I spent an extended period of time on the balcony … allowing us ample opportunity to realize how high up in the air we were. Looking out and realizing we were at eye level with the replica Eiffel Towel combined with a breeze just strong enough to sway our balance were more than enough to convince us that we could enjoy the view from inside the room, too. With the door closed.
Don’t check-out at check-out time
There I was. 11AM. Sunday, the final day of our trip, standing at the elevator bank in silence. My suitcase leaning on my leg and the weight inside my backpack sinking its straps deeper into my shoulders with each passing moment. Physically, I was feeling… less than ideal. After ten minutes of waiting, the elevator door opened. Twenty cramped people with luggage stared back, sharing my silence. I smiled, they laughed. The door closed. This would happen a few more times before my brother and I surrendered to carrying our luggage down 29 flights of stairs. If you can help it, don’t check-out at the exact same minute as every other person in the hotel. That is, unless you’d prefer your hungover flight include a full lather of sweat and misery.
Cleveland is cursed
The NFL draft took place on the weekend we were in the desert. I am a Clevelander, and, like most, was overjoyed at the news that the Browns landed the most exciting eligible player in the first round. Sports, blah, blah, sports, I know. They are trivial, and when pondered on too much, pointless. But sports can unite people and create waves of emotion like few other things can. That wave of positive emotion was dashed in under 24 hours as news that one of the Browns’ best young players would be suspended for the upcoming season after a failed drug test. In Cleveland, we can’t have nice things.
In Vegas, we can.