Las Vegas is called the entertainment capital of the world which, in my expert opinion, is a bit of an understatement. 

Mr. Producer and I decided at the last minute on a particularly mundane Friday (after what had been one of the most horrible and frustrating days of work) to leave our little corner of the low desert for a much more exciting landscape.

Four hours later, we were quickly traveling out of the desolate Nevada desert and back into modern civilization. The silhouette of Joshua Trees against an indigo dusk faded into the background as myriad lights, billboards and lavish hotels became visible on the horizon, promising passersby indulgence, fun and the prospect of winning instant millions. What's not to love? Everything is over the top, everything is bright and intriguing, time doesn't exist and, most importantly, anything goes.

The city doesn't bother stopping to sleep and the drinks flow from sun up to sundown. I woke up drinking mimosas, lounged in a massive wave pool, threw away some hard-earned money, stayed in a hotel whose nightly fee far exceeded my meager reporter’s budget, bought some new and completely unnecessary clothing and dined on over-priced miso soup.  I don't even like Sake, but my waiter laughed and mumbled something to the tune of, "seriously, this is Vegas, baby," so I obliged.

The small group we were with got our names on the guest list of a dimly lit rooftop club where we braved the desert heat, shooting pictures from the balcony. We sang along at a cheesy piano bar and there may even have been some dancing. I wore high heels in a casino and still felt underdressed.

I slept too little and sustained myself on a steady diet of pina coladas and Asian cuisine.  It was fabulous, just fabulous, and I still don't quite understand how to play Blackjack.

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