Say "What happens in Vegas" one more time...I dare you.

There's something about flying home to Las Vegas that is innately depressing. Buddy & I were on our way home from a week's vacation and evidently we missed the memo about being booked on the Party Plane. Everyone on it was ready to shirk responsibility and drink for 6 days straight...particularly our friends, the Canadian schoolteachers in the row directly behind us. The first 1/2 of the flight was spent ordering white wine and overusing Vegas cliches, and the second 1/2 was spent complaining loudly about why they were cut off from more alcohol and slurring Vegas cliches. I lost count after a while, but my estimate is "Viva Las Vegas" (13), "What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas" (about 30) and Buddy's favourite: "You don't even need a hotel room in Vegas, just hook up with a different chick every night" (one too many times).My personal favourite was the teacher who took it upon himself to educate the rest of the plane on life in Las Vegas. I'll paraphrase, but the lesson sounded something like this: "My brother lives in Vegas, and do you know what he told me? People actually live here! People actually get up and go to work and go and get groceries! They live normal lives. Crazy, huh?" Really? And you're teaching the future generation. I desperately wanted to tell him that I was one of those people who had to get up and go to work the next day, but I chickened out and turned up my ipod instead.
Meanwhile, his friend (for anonymity's sake, we'll call her Motormouth) was striking up conversation with the entire plane and buying drinks for those she was keeping awake - a lot of money exchanged hands on this flight. Somehow we got skipped...I was tempted to ask for an orange juice, but again, swallowed my pride and pretended to read my book. I finally started to fall asleep, but then we started our descent and Mr. Wasted felt the need to announce each hotel/casino as we passed it. Really? Even if it's your first time, I'm pretty sure you can figure out the difference between the Stratosphere and the Luxor without the tutelage of such a credible individual.

I know I haven't lived here very long, but I feel justified in being annoyed with such a blatant display of ignorance and disregard for common courtesy, even if they are my fellow countrymen. And for the record Miss Motormouth, if you're reading this: the "What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas" motto doesn't apply until you're in Vegas, you were over it. So the fact that you met a guy on the plane and made out with him directly behind me for the duration of the flight and went your separate ways at the baggage claim, will follow you home. And I will be forever haunted. Thank you and good night.

*I apologize if prior to this post you thought of me as a relatively nice person. Please continue to think so, but know that I can be a feisty one when crossed. This is the first official rant on the blog, I don't intend to make this a habit. *