My Spiritual Journey...To Vegas

So, I don't know if you heard (because I'm kind of a big deal), but I went to Vegas this past weekend. Yup, somehow, through some strange rip in the fabric of the universe, it was decided that I was to hop on board a so-called "Party Plane" and booze my way to Vegas (and back) in under 36 hours. You can call it a launch party of biblical proportions.

Let's start at the beginning.

Have you heard of Thrillist? If not, you're probably a girl, or live somewhere that is not New York, Boston, Los Angeles, San Francisco, Chicago, or, as of last week, Las Vegas. In any case, their big Vegas launch plus a very generous partnership with JetBlue means a plane full of "media types" (who, just like me, had no qualms about getting on a free flight to Vegas complete with gift bag and all - though, to be fair, some of the more ethically concerned, like CNet's Caroline McCarthy, paid their own way), contest winners (like the lucky JDate-ers who found themselves sat next to fellow HuffPost-er Rachel Sklar and ex-HuffPost-er turned Fishbowl-er Glynnis MacNicol and whose "first date" aboard said party plane went unsurprisingly sour - and if you're curious Sklar's got a great rundown of their date and the rest of the trip over at Radar), advertisers, sponsors (like the Alka-Seltzer guy, who I'm pretty sure is kind of a rockstar), and lastly one very nice and very busy psychic (brought on board by Equinox) who told me that I had very positive and forward-moving energy. Whee!

And on that note, let's move on!

So, Vegas - the city of Sin! - and li'l old me here on "My Spiritual Journey" and the requisite and readily available (unless you've found yourself on the runway in Rochester, which is a whole other story) un-ending amounts of alcohol (including the thoughtfully pocket-sized bottle of Skyy found after-the-fact in my giftbag) means I probably strayed far, far, far from the path. Not so! I was relatively well-behaved and only gambled with someone else's $20 bill (I lost) and instead found myself back in bed by 12:30 with my sister and best friend Peter both of whom braved the desert and gas prices (though, it should be said, they drove a Prius) to keep me company (and take advantage of a free hotel room and open bar) stuffing my face (and theirs) with room-service Fried Rice, Chicken Fingers, and Potato Skins. Thus, while sin and debauchery were not necessarily part of my appetites, gluttony apparently was.

And so it went. I awoke -- up and at 'em! -- the next morning at 9, ready to brave the pool which, as expected, was populated by drunk girls in bikinis (yes, at 9am), drunk guys in backwards hats with tribal tattoos, and snoring middle-aged couples well on their way to third-degree burns. As it turns out, I forgot sunscreen (could have used that in the gift bags - just sayin') and so we were forced to quickly wave the proverbial white flag and head for shadier locales which, luckily and accordingly, turned out to be the poolside cafe, where we efficiently ordered and dispatched two breakfast platters (eggs, sausage, bacon, toast, homefries) and an order of pancakes with a side of bananas. (Yes, more food. I told you gluttony was the theme of my trip.) Oh, and before I forget I should mention that I topped it off with a Cinnabun at the airport within the hour.

So, here's the thing. Fellow Inner Life-er Lindsay Mannering talks about mindful eating and I've discussed how fasting is just not for me and I know gluttony is one of the Seven Deadly Sins, but the bottom line is that I just love to eat. Well, this time around, the big guy (or the guys at Thrillist) decided that the only way to make me aware of my gastronomical excess short of 40 years wandering the desert (heck! I could barely handle a day) was trial by fire - by which I mean trial by cruel and unusual lengths of time on an airplane.

See - there were these big storms in New York on Saturday night which caused JFK to ground all planes which caused our plane to divert and circle Rochester which caused our plane to land in Rochester (which, according the the Pilot, with 30 minutes of fuel left was the proactive solution), which caused me to spend 8+ hours on a plane filled with nothing but Munchie Mix, Terra Blue chips and Animal Crackers. After the first bag and a half of Munchies, I gave up on sustenance and resigned myself to a slow and painful death by starvation. Which made me realize that I'm an utter asshole because I could barely last 8 hours without a proper meal and I almost fainted (yes, I'm that embarrassing) in the jetway once I finally got off the plane and out of desperation bought a ready-made sandwich at the airport even though I was leaving.

Whew. This post is longer than expected.

The point is that you're probably wondering one of two things: how tenuous a thread "My Spiritual Journey" is on at this point and/or why you're not hearing more debaucherous details of Vegas.
Well, to that, I have two answers: I went to Vegas for 36 hours, so aside from an exercise in patience (I was sat next to the NY Daily News Gossip Sean Evans and, trust me, I say that with love) and my trial by starvation, there wasn't all that much spirituality going on. So, on that note, I did my best.

And to the other question I say: what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas. At least in this post. And also, like I said, I was in bed by midnight, so what do I know? Ask the Thrillist guys if you need more deets.

Amen.

Comments

[naturallight]

Verena,

This is a follow up to your 'drug' story a few months back.

http://www.reason.tv/video/show/413.html

touching and sad and would be wonderful if people watched and empathised.

[mascarah]

Oh tasukibeth1--give it a rest. On any given day, in any given place, there is likely at least one person getting something for free that someone else could really benefit from having. Be it a drink in a bar, an all-acess pass to a gifting suite at Sundance, a pair of fake boobs from an admiring man, or a trip to Vegas.

In most of these situations, the recipients can afford and often receive lavish gifts. In the case of these journalists, most of whom make little to zero money, experiences like this are one of the reasons that the lack of dough is worth it. So don't rain on her fun 36 hours, you chose a different life, her life happens to include the occasional fun trip.

[tasukibeth1]

Thanks for regaling us with your "all-expen­ses-paid-a­nd-look!-a­-gift-bag!­" story. My spouse and l will be spending my wedding anniversary stuck at home, baking in the summer sun because our house doesn't have central heat and air. But thanks for the story.

[pkousakis]

As someone who was there to witness this dazzling 36-hours (well, I was only there for 20 of them) I have to say that the most disappointing thing about this post is that Verena failed to mention that upon her arrival in Las Vegas (meaning: Still on the runway) She called me and demanded a delicious meal from In-and Out burger(which if you don't know what that is, then you better figure it out soon.), mind you, she had just finished a sandwich on the plane.
Although the parties were fancy and the drinks were overflowing, the best part of the weekend was when we all gave in to our biggest sin: FOOD
This is why I love Verena, because she doesn't gossip about the guy who jumped in the pool in his white suit at Bar Lounge, she isn't telling you about the make-out sessions going on in the bed-like lounges; she goes to Las Vegas and observes people making fools of themselves but rather than write about that, she tells us about how she dined (and when I say dined I mean full on dinners) 5 times in one day.

[DocManhattan]

While I do have some sympathy for your situation, tasukibeth1 -- speaking as a freelance writer who's struggling to make ends meet right now -- I think it's worth pointing out that your problems are not Verena's fault, so your attempt to make her feel guilty is just bad form.

As journalists, we write about what we experience. Me, I was staying at the Seattle Fairmont last week on an expenses-paid press trip. Now I'm back in my one-bedroom apartment trying to figure out how to make some money from that trip. It's going to be a long time -- if ever -- before I see the inside of a hotel like that without someone else paying for it. We all have our crosses to bear, so -- with all due repect -- stay off Verena's case. Thanks.