So, you’re in Vegas and it’s 10 AM and you’re standing in a cloud of second-hand smoke on the casino floor. All around you, Midwesterners in tank tops drag their bloated bodies back and forth from one flashing machine to another, and no one is winning. And no one is smiling. Upstairs, everyone’s hungover or broke. Outside, it’s the same Mandalay Bay-to-Bellagio parade. The possibilities for the day in Vegas seem tired, perverse, and well, shitty. And you have two more days of this?
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