Las Vegas is a disgusting representation of life made to provide “bread and circus” to the proletariat. I hate going to Vegas but make the best of it when I have to. From the lower middle class people pissing away their retirement at the slot machines to the sixty year old rockers working six nights a week in a show band to drunk people line dancing, I hold my breath through the smoke-filled rooms to get to my hotel room ASAP to shower to get the Vegas stank off me. It’s always a quick in and out of his town and this time it was 115 degrees across the desert and I drove with the windows down. Wonderful!!!
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Trying not to get any of this on me as I walked through the casino to my room.
Creepy show band entertaining the audience in the “B” level hotel I was staying.
Passing through Baker, CA on the way home. 115 was a “dry heat” and felt great.