"VEGAS, BABY!"

One more time, please, just once more. BECAUSE IT WASN'T FUNNY THE FIRST 50 TIMES!

On my recent flight back from Providence, RI to the City of Freaks and White Trash, I endured the most horrid of taunts: the drunken white trash beast. He was sitting about six rows back from me, long straggly hair, about 400 pounds overweight, smoker's cough, and a voice coarser than a camel's ass.

"VEGAS BABY, YEAH!" *cough cough*

The two drunk white trash idiots sitting in front of me would retaliate, like a grown-up version of Marco Polo. Remember that stupid game you would play in the pool with your friends? One would cover their eyes and call out "MARCO", and the others would dodge him and call out "Polo" and you would have to catch them according to where their voice came from. Same thing here. With grown ups.

"YEAH BABY!" *clank* as he bangs his bottle of Bud LIght against his friend's bottle.

And I start to grate my teeth because my patience is wearing thinner than a nun's rosary at a Chippendale's concert.

I know we're going to Vegas. And I know it draws your white trash ass much like a moth is drawn to a flame, you idiot. But for the love of God and all things holy, keep your "VEGAS, BABY!" outbursts for the casinos. I'm sure they will welcome you - and your wallet - with open arms, baby!