Oh Vegas. The dreadful death trap that without fail sends thousands of people home in physical and mental pain each weekend. I always aggressively claim to hate Vegas whenever it’s brought up, since the mere thought of it makes my head feel like someone is drilling it, but somehow I still end up being a hypocrite and agreeing to last minute trips. “But it’s only an hour flight away!”. Fine.
While checking my text message threats on the plane from friends in Vegas telling me I’m not allowed blogging, Tweeting, Facebooking, or Instagramming anything bad that they do, I decided to take a stereotypical plane selfie with my friend. I didn’t realize that the emergency exit row safety speech was soo important until the flight attendant stopped talking then when we finally looked up said, “I’ll wait for you to take your selfie“. Fail number one.
Encore Beach Club
We finally got there (and by finally I mean 55 minutes later), checked in at Aria, and headed to meet our friends at Encore Beach Club. The last time I was at Encore I ended up in LA a week later and never went home, so I knew it was going to be either a really good or really bad day. If you’ve ever been to a pool party in Vegas, you know to expect the distinguished smell of urine and highly concentrated chlorine that stings your nostrils, the thumping EDM music, and the gruesome sight of the murky pool water that you try desperately not to get splashed with. I never have and never will understand why/how people sit in a cesspool all day.
Anyway, some DJ was playing, and the day progressed as expected – everyone got wasted – there was a girl and guy aggressively making out on the couch next to us who I had to save from utter humiliation when her bikini bottoms came untied without her knowing (even though the guy did). We saw a lot of gross females dancing on the poles that they have around the pool, then one girl completely redeemed herself by falling on her face during a failed stripper move.
Marquee Day Club got weird
As usual, I did not make it out that night, and had to convince myself to go to the pool party at Marquee the next day. The majority of my friends that we met there ended up changing their flights to go home early because they were so miserable so we ended up invading a bachelor party from wherever they wear croakies on their sunglasses. Marquee was way more packed and crazy than Encore which is why I stayed glued to my perch on the bench until my smaller than average bladder could no longer hold any more mojitos. When I returned, I climbed to an even higher perch so I could witness one of the guys getting slapped in the back by a bunch of girls behind him, some unsightly grinding of three biker looking chicks in the cesspool, some assholes at a cabana waving a British flag on Memorial Day, and an annihilated girl who had been making out with a guy in the pool before, who was now drunkenly sitting down and standing up on white towels…leaving blood stains everywhere. Like I said…Oh Vegas.
Alyssa is a self-made, full time travel blogger who loves adventure and typically travels the world solo. She's been to 53 countries and 6 continents so far, and believes she has mastered the art of chasing waterfalls, traveling solo, wine drinking, and making budget-traveling look good. Curious to know how she started this career? Check out the About section above!