Well, Vegas, here we are again. Together on another morning after a night when I tried to pretend I didn't know you.
I've decided that I like you if I'm high above you. All I can hear from my balcony here in the Cosmopolitan is the hum of traffic down on the Strip.
It's white noise as opposed to the clanging, clamoring demands for attention from the slot machines and dance clubs.
It's quiet.
Yes, Vegas, my favorite thing about you this trip {my fourth in less than a year} is my balcony and how I can be in Vegas but not of Vegas.
My second favorite thing about you is the guy who gave me a high five on my run this morning along the Strip and shouted, "I bet you haven't been out all night like me!
So true, drunk man, so true.
Ah, Vegas, you never cease to give me stories.
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