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This is me, and this is the Grand Canyon
Showing posts with label Vegas. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Vegas. Show all posts
Wednesday, 9 May 2012
Monday, 7 May 2012
Hit me baby one more time (thoughts on Las Vegas)
I've been visiting the Grand Canyon, and Vegas is a convenient international airport (I despise the city itself, and I'm not going to waste anyone's time describing why - more than enough column inches have been filled on that subject by better writers than I). So here, without any further preamble, are a few photos.
A fake gondola on a fake canal in a fake Venice (at least the fake gondolier knows how to sing).
Luxor seen from the departure lounge.
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Who says Americans are bad at languages? Look how seamlessly they use French in the Paris resort!
Welcome to Vegas
Thudda-thudda-thudda.
The windows are shaking with the music. I'm on the 26th floor of this hotel – how can it still be this loud all the way up here?
Thudda. Thudda.
I roll over in bed, bury my face in the pillow. Shut up!
A car honks on the street. Another car honks in reply or riposte. Possibly it's the same car both times, giving it a two-for. These are the thoughts I have when I can't sleep.
The illuminated face of the bedside clock radio blinks sleepily at me. It looks vaguely mocking... but how can a dial conjure up any emotion at all? It's just my over-tired state.
A woman's drunkenly laughing in the hallway outside my room. Shut. Up.
Please.
Another car honks. I flip my pillow to get the cool side. Why is my hotel subjecting me this aural pollution? Don't they realise I'm jet-lagged?
Now I can hear someone singing in the hallway, off key. I don't recognise the song.
Welcome to Vegas.
Thudda-thudda-thudda.
The windows are shaking with the music. I'm on the 26th floor of this hotel – how can it still be this loud all the way up here?
Thudda. Thudda.
I roll over in bed, bury my face in the pillow. Shut up!
A car honks on the street. Another car honks in reply or riposte. Possibly it's the same car both times, giving it a two-for. These are the thoughts I have when I can't sleep.
The illuminated face of the bedside clock radio blinks sleepily at me. It looks vaguely mocking... but how can a dial conjure up any emotion at all? It's just my over-tired state.
A woman's drunkenly laughing in the hallway outside my room. Shut. Up.
Please.
Another car honks. I flip my pillow to get the cool side. Why is my hotel subjecting me this aural pollution? Don't they realise I'm jet-lagged?
Now I can hear someone singing in the hallway, off key. I don't recognise the song.
Welcome to Vegas.
Thudda-thudda-thudda.
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