Vegas!

We've been doing a boys' trip to Vegas for several years now. I'm sure that immediately brings to mind debauchery, the movie swingers, or (God forbid) Very Bad Things, but we're a very tame group.

The running gag is to see how far we can make each other walk. Or at least that's how I prefer to look at it. We're talking about 6 miles of walking up and down the strip, or an as yet unmeasured treck in a attempt to get to the In-N-Out burger. One of these days I'll concede and just get one of these.

Another constant of our trips to Vegas it that I lose - consistently and quickly. I'm talking to the point of betting cab fare, or calling the airline to get a trip home days early. The first time we went I made it a point of losing my last two dollars in the "lucky" Quack Shot at the airport.

For all the tomfoolery that goes on with the group of guys, the craziest thing I've run across in Vegas was actually the cabbie from the airport when Jen and I went for my birthday. He felt compelled to tell us about his affinity for guns, his racist tendencies, his stripper girlfriend, and how they got busted for solicitation when she jokingly propositioned him in front of a cop.

Meanwhile, Jen and I are having flashbacks to The Bone Collector. I gave him a generous tip, as much out of relief as gratitude.

More to follow...