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We were all headed to the city of all sins, where each may tap into their inner demons, drink the poisons of the night and find that everything is much more expensive when one is male.
Barely able to contain our excitement, we picked up our bags filled with gratuitous quantities of shoes and outfits optimized for maximum hotness and stepped onboard flight 777 to Las Vegas.
We had all just turned 21 and were hoping to consummate our newfound legitimacy in our journey through the deadliest of sins in Sin City.
Pride, the excess love of self, is said to be the worst of the seven sins, as it leads to the other six. However, in Vegas, my impression was that the lack of pride, a reasonable self-respect as defined by Merriam-Webster, was more of the case, as one must check their pride along with their dignity at the airport gates to enjoy Vegas in its full salacious glory. What shocked me about this was that it is much harder to do than you’d expect.
Case in point, the girls and I packed our bags with the nightlife in mind. Our intentions were to fit in like pros on the strip, get into the best clubs and more easily manipulate for free drinks. So we packed our skankiest skirts, most titillating tops and our hottest heels. Once fully decked and painted, we hit the streets to bask in the luster of the city lights.
To our surprise, we were vastly out-dressed. In short, all the other girls in town made us look like Janet Reno in comparison. It was a sad moment for all indeed. We weighed our options between upping the ante and keeping what pride we had left. We chose the former.
Gluttony is the sin of excess desire and indulgence of food. Now, in terms of real food, committing the sin of gluttony was near impossible. A single meal for a single girl can easily cost upward of $30. Screw that, my friends. Thus, the dollar menu at the McDonald’s across from Four Seasons became our lord and savior and when we could not make the trek to worship, we gleaned nourishment from old bananas from the gas station and spoonfuls of peanut butter. However, if you consider booze to be a food, then that didn’t stop us at all from sheer, ravenous gluttony. If Mountain Dew is game fuel, then vodka is debauchery fuel.
On that note, Sloth, the sin of laziness, can be illustrated in one word: Hangover.
In Vegas, differentiation between the ridiculously wealthy and the relatively poor (…us) was rather palpable. Thus Envy, the sin of insatiable desire for one’s own good and to deprive others of theirs, often reared its ugly head. Ridiculous wealth can buy you a few hours under a cabana for $1,200, or a poolside bed for $400. And that’s without paying $20 per cup of debauchery fuel. Honestly, I don’t give a damn about the cabanas or the fancy poolside beds, but it irks me that I may never know what it is like to lavishly drop hundreds of dollars for things a towel and a small tree can sufficiently provide me for free.
Lust, the sin of excessive sexual desire, was the most apparent of sins. The simple act of possessing breasts, large and small, spared no woman from men, young and old, and their mystic quests for ass. The most tremendous displays of lust were at club Rehab, the self-proclaimed “ultimate Vegas pool party” at the Hard Rock Hotel. In the seven or so hours that we were there, we shooed, swatted and smacked away dudes from all directions at all times.
But I won’t lie, the most fun I had in Vegas by far was at Rehab, but there are some things you can’t un-see or un-douche.
In the pool where there was more silicon than water, there transpired something just short of an all-out-millionaire-drunken-orgy. I’ve never seen so much pool sex in my life. The worst part was that by the end of the day, the once crystalline waters had clouded into a solution of something I dare not contemplate. I prayed that the chlorine and all the alcohol that sloshed into the pool would kill everything, but I did not press my luck. Not wanting to contract a disease or a mysterious pool baby, I got out seeking something that would not ail me, like nachos.
It was rare but I experienced isolated incidents of Wrath, the sin of uncontrolled hatred and anger. However, it certainly built up over time. Along with the fact that I could barely afford anything in this town, I was getting tired of being gawked at, catcalled and semi-molested everywhere I went at night.
Don’t get me wrong, I met plenty of perfectly good gentlemen on my trip, and I know that guys in general aren’t like this at all, but I had to understand that in Vegas, bastardous lechers came with the territory. But staving off advances for four days straight makes one grow hostile. And there were many times I wished nothing more than to swiftly stiletto-kick someone in the balls.
If Las Vegas is most famous for any of the seven deadly sins, it is Greed, the sin of excess desire for the acquisition of wealth. Gambling was really fun, but I am totally grateful that I waited till the last minute to do it. Just before we had to catch a shuttle back to the airport, I played a few games of craps and quickly won $15. Not bad for my first time.
The dice felt oh-so-good in my hands and I loved the instantaneous money. I finally understood how easily these simple games can destroy lives. I pulled away from the table, cashed my chips and met up with the girls to fly home.
So, does Sin City live up to its name? Definitely. A place in which Carrot Top finds regular employment in this economy has to be screwed up.
The question is, can you afford to do all seven in one weekend?
Contact CU Independent Staff Writer Natalie Bui at Natalie.email@example.com.