Short Version:
More sights, sounds, and smells of Vegas. We win, then we leave.
Long Version:
There really were quite a lot of fat people in Las Vegas. Many of them were appallingly dressed (as were many of their skinny counterparts). I know I occasionally tuck my T-shirt in, but that's purely to irritate Janine. Really, it's an unacceptable choice, and especially when you're in your forties, you're a bit fat, it's a Harley Davidson T-shirt, and the jeans it's tucked into are from Wal-Mart and you're not wearing a belt. The men were even worse.
We breakfasted in a rainforest with an assortment of animatronic critters that don't coexist out in the outside world, then went and ogled the lion cubs at the MGM Grand. We tried to take photos of their butts up through the glass floor they were sitting on, but they seemed to know there were southern hemisphere perverts about, and several times moved away just before we pulled the trigger.
We wandered for hours among the chaos and carnage of the Strip, stopping every so often to drink $1 margaritas and free beer, or to admire some pretty cool public art, and eventually we admitted to each other that we weren't ready to leave town and go live in the van again just yet. The Luxor is a big black pyramid with a beam of light emanating from its tip. Not as fancypants as NY:NY, and cheaper. We walked there, and noted the change in the style of the winnable vehicles in the casinos we passed through: the Audi and Mercedes cars of The Bellagio and The Venetian became Camaros and Corvettes, and then we were inside the gaudy Excalibur, where the cars gave way to custom choppers, and the crowds got even less stylish, which we frankly hadn't expected to be feasible. Our waitress at dinner had big tits that were barely contained by her exposed black lace bra, which; a) spoke volumes about the place we were in, and b) earned her an extra-good tip. The class downshift was even more evident in the show we went to: too worn-out to leave the Luxor we plumped for half-price tickets to the Criss Angel magic show, where we found a lowbrow crowd and a show that was big on crass humor and loud rap-rock, interspersed with some pretty cool magic tricks. The highlight was without question the lenticular poster for the show which featured a lovely white rabbit that bared some serious fangs as one walked past. Not for sale*, unfortunately.
We saw some people throwing down some big sums on gaming tables, but there were far more people pumping cash into bleeping, brightly-lit machines. We did too: Nene turned $1 into $40 on a Sabretooth at The Luxor, and a $10 payout from a Shark Attack at The Venetian saw us call "Time" on our gaming while we were ahead on the ledger**. A quick jaunt out into the streets saw us exploring a whole bunch more fantastic architecture, being astounded by opulence and by the apparent expense of the design options, and mildly nauseated by the insanity of adding layers of over-the-top Xmas decorations to the already overblown casino areas. We caught the fountain show at The Bellagio, which was ever-so-romantic, and wandered off hand-in-hand, past the homeless people and the fat tourists, back to the NY:NY parking garage and the Reaper, which harvested my sunglasses as I desecured the doors. Bastardo!
* = Of course, this being Vegas, it probably was for sale, for the right amount; it's just that the right amount was probably a first-born, or a soul, or something else above and beyond our ability or willingness to pay
** = Ahead assuming you're not counting accommodation and food costs, that is
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