Goodbye Las Vegas

Well, I'm all packed and ready to go. It's been one helluva eight months. And in that time, I have certainly seen and experienced quite a bit.

I learned during my time here that Vegas is a great place to come on vacation. But not to live. 24-hour clubbing, hookers on street corners, drinking in the streets. It's a frat boy's wet dream. But living here is something totally different. Making friends is about as difficult as keeping your ice cream from melting in the middle of August.

I've had my photo taken outside the Bellagio. But I could never afford to stay inside. I've ordered an "umbrella drink", but never staggered to a street corner and chucked my guts out.

I've walked for miles and miles, only to realize I am no closer to my destination than when I first set out.

I learned that the one arm bandits will swallow your dollar bills faster than the bleached blond on the corner of Fremont Street will ... well, you get the idea.

But perhaps the biggest lesson I learned here in vegas, is that I don't belong here. It's Disneyland in the desert. It's a city built on hopes and dreams, and while that may remain inspirational, it saddens my soul to see so many old folk tottering around with a cigarette in one hand, oxygen tank in the other, and spending their pension in a gaming hall.

They say, "What happens here stays here." Not entirely true. I'll take my Vegas experiences with me wherever I go. And just as well, I need to remember why I never want to live here again.

Goodbye Las Vegas. Your plastic charms and false promises have worn thin. If nothing else, you've been a great teacher.