In a city as sinful as it was perceived to be, I am amused of how pleasant my experience was in Sin City. Pleasant, actually is an understatement. Now I fully understand the difference between the Vegas Strip and in any other strip there is in the world. One struggle there is would be looking like I’m below 18. And that, curse my Asian blood, is why people see me cute. Cute was okay. It was better than not existing anyway. But being cute doesn’t add up to my cards this time, for being cute lowers my chances of actually having fun. Being denied in certain clubs; security eye-ing me inside the casino; and having my Philippines Drivers License deem invalid wasn’t actually the scenario I expected. State IDs and/or Passport would be the safest to present in order to gain access everywhere in Vegas. But really, would you risk bringing your Passport with you when you try to get wasted? I definitely do not.
Good thing my definition of having fun doesn’t involve clubbing alone. On our second night, we decided to watch Mystere. It’s an original composition by Cirque du Soleil that of which was pure genius. I fancy watching plays in a stadium full of dressed up young adults who marvels at the amazing cirqus show. My jaw literally is dropped the whole time as I clap my excitement on every stunt the performers make. A mixture of street-theatre style comedy, cirqus stunts, opera/dance, and elaborate sets make the whole play world class. And to top it all of, we watched it in Vegas. How fancy is that?
If being able to master the art of trickery was an ease, then Vegas definitely is on top of the list. From drunkard dumb ass on the street to burglars prying on these intoxicated drunkard dumb ass. Unfortunately, these drunkard dumb ass were us. For on our 3rd day in Vegas, we found ourselves in the city’s police station – filing a case on Larceny of a Person to someone named Nancy. Apparently, if my memory serves me right, Nancy approached us to offer help in carrying a drunk friend. She took a hold of my friend on his left side, while we took care of the other. We walked for a good 10 minutes to a taxi station where she left us and instructing us to take a taxi back to our hotel. I guess Vegas was too much for us to handle, alright. But at that time, I was just so grateful to Nancy’s help since we really do need any help we could get. When we reached our hotel, the security even offered wheel chair for us to use. Which we did. For the friend we were trying to carry was the biggest from our group.
The next morning was painful. All of us were having the worst hang over ever, and the hotel room was full of trash from last night’s extravaganza. After letting the scene and all the alcohol out of our system, the friend above mentioned realizes his watch was missing. His watch that of which was securely strapped on his left arm that night. On his left side where Nancy assisted him all the way to the taxi station. I knew a petite girl like Nancy cannot be able to take a hold of my friend the way she did, especially with all those vomit on his clothes. “God bless you, Nancy” was the last thing I said to her when she brisk off away from the scene. She smiled and then went on.
So as we finish explaining all these to a Vegas’ police officer (which I doubt even cares at all) all I can think of was may God bless Nancy. Really. May God bless her. Because only God can attest to everything that have happened. So God bless Nancy. If that was even her real name.