Please allow me to describe the two times I have been to Las Vegas.
Time #1: Days after high school graduation. My maternal grandparents were in town. I don’t recall this as a “graduation trip,” even though that’s how the timing made it appear, because I didn’t ask for this. What I remember most is our all-day bus trip to the Grand Canyon, because I was too young to do anything that Las Vegas is famous for except walk down the entire strip and look at the ways this city has chosen to spend its money. But I took this picture on that trip.
Time #2: Not long after college graduation. A one-night stopover with someone I no longer speak to, where I attempted to recreate the previous trip except hey, I’m 21 now, I can do things. But all we did was collect escort cards from the people who handed them out on the street and stuck them between the pages of the hotel’s Bible. They complained the whole time we walked the strip because it was clear, actually, that I was trying to do what made me happy with other people and not taking into consideration what this person wanted. The buffet the next day helped, though.