more things i said in vegas

The last time I was in Las Vegas, I made a list of things I said there, all of them saturated in a "I don't think Las Vegas is for me" tone.

This time was no different.

• If I had to imagine hell, it would be the Forum Shops at Caesar's Palace. Some co-workers and I wandered over there after dinner one night because, as they told me, I just had to see it—it perfectly exemplifies Vegas. And they were right: it's this mall built to look like ancient Rome, except it smells better {I would assume} and there's indoor plumbing {which helps it smell better}.
  
  Also, ancient Rome probably didn't have an H&M that looked more like a nightclub than a store. I'm pretty sure I saw a mannequin posed as if she were doing a pole dance.
  
  There are fountains and statues and the facades of the buildings look like stone in the Forum Shops. Look like stone, yes: as with many things in Vegas, where nothing is that old, the Forum Shops are trying to look old when really they're made out of, I'm relatively sure, drywall and creative painting.
  
  The Forum Shops are in my version of hell because there are about 3 million people crammed into the fake cobblestone walkway {Did they even have cobblestone in ancient Rome? Why is it here? Shouldn't this be dirt?}.
  
  And all 3 million of those people are not watching where they're going because they're distracted by the biggest copy of the David they've ever seen. Or they're distracted by how the ceiling is painted to look like a dusky sky. Or they're distracted by the pole dancing in H&M. They're just distracted and aimlessly wandering, and I don't like dodging 3 million people while on fake cobblestone streets. Or real ones, for that matter.
• Vegas makes me cranky. I said this to a co-worker, and she did not disagree with me. She's true and honest like that. And it's hard to miss how cranky I get around too much noise and bright lights.
• Last night, I took a bath and read Persuasion. To which my co-worker said, "You do realize you're in Vegas, right?" Immediately after she said that, I realized that I'd become a stereotype of myself.
• Tub does not stop filling automatically. I read the sign above the bathtub in my room aloud. {But no, I did not read Persuasion aloud while in the bathtub, and certainly didn't do that using a fake British accent.} Back to the sign: You know that when there's a sign, that means that someone has done it before, surprising as that may be.
  
  Someone—WHO has such a smart bathtub at home that it stops filling when it's reached the perfect level?!?!—started the bath and walked away. And then an entire floor of the Paris Hotel flooded. Or maybe just their bathroom flooded. Regardless, there was a flood, and now there must be a small sign above the bathtub warning you to not expect too much from the bath equipment.
• This room also doesn't have a coffee maker. My room at the Cosmopolitan didn't have a coffee maker, either, which leads me to believe that they're illegal in Vegas. You can drink on the street and smoke indoors, but you cannot—on penalty of being sent to the Forum Shops at Caesar's—make your own coffee here.
  
  Perhaps I should start bringing one of my own coffee makers to Vegas; I have four, after all.

And the most indicative quote from my Vegas trip: I think Vegas and I should break up. We just weren't made for each other.