Random thoughts from the Las Vegas trip

When your body is causing tears in the seams of your spandex and flesh is hanging out of those openings, it's time to consider abandoning spandex--or at least moving up a size. Or two. Or three.

Glitter does not equal taste.

Comment from a cowboy (the rodeo was in town) to the woman with him upon seeing a pair of low-rise, leopard-skin pajama bottoms: "Honey, you ought to get you some of them sleepin' britches."

It would take me weeks to see everything that interests me in Las Vegas and the surrounding area.

Before those weeks were over, I would explode from all the food I had eaten.

Craftsteak has improved, and I now recommend it.

If you're willing to pay insane amounts, a Japanese A5 Wagyu steak cooked at a place that does meat well (as Craftsteak does) will be the best piece of meat you've ever put in your mouth. (You! Don't go there. Yes, I mean you.)

I'm still amazed at how many people don't know that wait staff and doormen/doorwomen live off tips.

I met my first cab driver who was born and raised in Las Vegas but started driving a taxi only a few years ago.

On any night I've ever been in Vegas, I've seen many groups of women walking around hotels wearing clothing so revealing it would be considered lingerie anywhere else.

I consider this a good thing, though note the opening spandex comment.

Drunk people are way funnier to other drunks than they are to those of us who do not drink. (Yes, I could make this observation anywhere, but I am rarely around drunks anywhere else.)

A scowling Patrick Stewart staring at your bed is not a good thing.

Lest it sound like I'm complaining, I had a great time, and I'd go back next week given adequate money and time. Fortunately for my weight, I'll be home the rest of the month.