Vegas, baby.

It was a little odd coming back from the desert. Disembarking the plane, I found the air cool and damp, even what little I could feel from the tiny gap between the plane and the platform. Dulles airport seemed quiet, and it’s not quiet at all.

I found that I missed neon lights and ringing slot machines. I missed outlandish, near stereotypical representations of real world places. I missed television screens six blocks long. I missed buffets.

Where were the pirate ships? The indoor canals with singing gondoliers? The fountains of chocolate? The floral displays in my lobby that change daily?

On the other hand, I’m now far, far away from men who wear too short shorts with black socks and middle aged women that bare their midriffs. Far from the masses of poorly highlighted hair, miscreant children, and people that proudly wear mullets and mesh ballcaps.

On the other hand, perhaps not so far away.

At least Vegas had that chocolate fountain going for it.