Day 2: Obsession (Note Due to excitement of Las Vegas and the excitement of everyday life. This recollection was created approximately two weeks after my trip) I’ve fallen into the…
Day 1.5/2: I will not sleep! After finishing my last post, I did not want to end my night early, but I did not want to continue getting my tuckus…
Day 1: #SoberingVegas Start I made it! Writing this now from my bed in the historic El Cortez. The Flight If you’re ever in Reno-Tahoe International Airport, make sure to…
Much to my surprise, I found out recently that people actually read my Degenerate Diaries when Patrick Hardin (@TheGamesOfPatrick) slid into my DMs and asked if I’d be open to a guest contributor.
Considering that I’d pretty much forgotten that I run this blog amidst my chronic COVID-induced Las Vegas withdrawal pains, the obvious question (just as when I ask myself anything to do with my dignity) was “what’ve I got to lose?” (Spoiler alert: the answer to both is a resounding “nothing”).
Adding Patrick’s experiences to the Degenerate Diaries was a no-brainer. I’ve always been a proponent of creating the Vegas experience that you want. So what better way to promote that than to feature Patrick’s stories of Sober Vegas?
What will follow in Patrick’s guest degen pieces is sure to be a lot different than my usual Vegas experience, yet it will be no less amazing. I hope that both sober and drunk readers alike will enjoy the new perspective and following along with Patrick’s trip.
Without further ado, here’s Sober Vegas through Patrick’s words (with the exception of the captions on this post, because Patrick is a sucker and didn’t include any).
It’s no secret that the last day in Vegas sucks.
Not only are you often starting to feel the cumulative effects of four days of sleep deprivation and binge drinking, but you also have to come to terms with the fact that your vacation in (literal) Paradise is coming to an end, and it’s almost time to return to the daily grind of work and life’s bullshit.
So what better way to simultaneously drown your sorrows/celebrate than with a bottomless mimosa brunch?
What could possibly go wrong?
As if I haven’t destroyed my body enough throughout the course of the past 72 hours, it’s time to permanently deface my arm with some ink to provide a constant physical reminder that what happens in Vegas doesn’t necessarily stay in Vegas…
I’ve got an appointment with Chad James at Studio 21 for 1pm. He’s going to add on to the Welcome to Fabulous Las Vegas sign he tattooed onto my left bicep last trip, starting a Vegas band.
But it also means that your morning is going to suck. And Eugene and I went to bed fully aware that we owed the fiddler.
Mercifully, when the alarm rings about 5 hours too early at 10:00am, Eugene and I are feeling surprisingly good for having had less than 3 hours of sleep.
We decide to head over to Carnaval Court, which is one of my favorite bars, since they’re open air, have a DJ, flair bartenders, and no cover.
Day 2 of the #5thAnnualDestinationBirthdayPartyinLasVegas is well underway. We're miraculously not hungover, well-fueled on Croquenuts, and have the perfect level of nervous excitement as we leave the Cosmopolitan. Costas is…
The clock strikes 9:30am. Normally, I would curse the default iPhone alarm tone for rousing me from my slumber and/or struggle not to roll over and fall back asleep. But not today. I’m in Las Vegas!
As I get out of bed, I’m pleasantly surprised by the absence of a hangover. While I’m still upset about the poor drink service last night, I’m also relieved that I don’t have to catch a shuttle to jump out of a plane with a discernible BAC or hangover; I’ll pay the fiddler later.