Did you ever wonder how the bed sheet toga was invented? Probably, it was in Vegas. Whiskey was involved. Whiskey is always involved, somehow. Then you wake up naked. Alone in a bed, but not alone. And not in a place where being discovered (bad naked) is any more appealing than being awake (Whiskey). Problem, meet solution.
Whiskey is the devil. We all know that. Boozy encounters with chicks – those always end well, too. Especially when they’re friends. Add in Vegas and a corporate expense account. Shake well. Shit happens.But not in the way you might expect (based on your personal experiences on every other trip to Vegas ever). Sometimes, all there is to confess after a…
Wild Turkey and Vegas. What could possibly go wrong? Maybe it was the Budweiser chaser. Maybe being sandwiched by Tullamore Dew and Harp. And a beer and some wine at dinner. Hey, let’s Facebook some pics! Hey, lets post some insightful comments! Hey! Another round? Fuck yeah!
We’re off to SEMA. Yes, we’re meeting up with old classmates while there. No, there is not an agenda or an expectancy, except Vegas-y Vegasness, clogged with crazier-than-usual cars. And that’s plenty. [Ed.: Also whiskey, beyond the usual one Wild Turkey.]
No sympathy for the devil; keep that in mind. Buy the ticket, take the ride…and if it occasionally gets a little heavier than what you had in mind, well…maybe chalk it off to forced conscious expansion: Tune in, freak out, get beaten. ― Hunter S. Thompson, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas