Vegas

The neon lights serve as a reminder of mankind's cultural zenith, building hedonistic Mecca's in unlikely wastelands, sticking a middle finger up at common sense, human decency and mother nature. I had already spent my formative years frequenting Bas Vegas and have, in recent years, had the opportunity to visit the local equivalent; Roto Vegas. However, nothing quite prepared me for the real thing.

I got an invite to a stag do in Las Vegas earlier this year but instantly discounted the idea as madness. It's tacky, hot, dusty and expensive. I bought a ticket, expecting to have a dreadful time in a hateful place with some very good friends (total of nearly 30 people - a huge effort). With so much weight of malodorous expectation I was quite taken aback that I actually found myself enjoying the place, being wowed by the tacky cheese marble rip-off edifices, the naff, mock, Disney style replicas of Paris, Venice, Egypt and Rome. As the saying goes: 'it's so friggin bad, it’s great!'. The only reason I was keen to leave after the weekend was financial and physical stamina (unlike some that pushed the boundaries of endurance with 60 hour marathon sessions).

No pictures but plenty of memories. A cracking weekend.