Puttin' On The Ritz

The city of Las Vegas is chock full of glitz and glamour (and tawdriness but for the intent of this post, we'll imagine that doesn't exist) and a place where you could easily sit down for an elegant dinner as well as kick up your heels, dancing the night away.

A Saturday night in this town is filled to the brim with possibilities.

"Ah yes, handsome fellow, where would you like to go tonight?", I asked myself in the mirror. "Should you dine on a sumptuous decadent cuisine prepared by one of the finest chefs in the city or perhaps simply nosh on some light hors d'oeuvres at one of the many parties you've been called upon to attend?"

Decisions, decisions...

My mind then began to spin with the dazzling imagery of how the next few hours would unfold. The flashes of paparazzi cameras lighting up the night sky as I traveled from one hot spot to another. Fetching models casting both glances and promises of carnal decadence at me as I coolly rebuff them. This is my night and I will leave the brokenhearted in my wake.

Perhaps I end up at a private party where I am prodded to entertain, tossing the adoring masses a little softshoe combined with a melodious little ditty designed to delight and inspire awe.

And as the dawn drew closer and I headed back home, pleased that once again I had brought smiles to the faces of the peasants, I would smile and remember this night fondly for I had done so much in so little time. The world was my oyster and I held it in the shell, swirled it around a bit and let it slide down my throat. My figurative taste buds reveled in its burst of flavor for one brief shining moment...

"Yes", I thought as I drifted off lazily, clad only in gym shorts and my hunger satiated from the three slices of frozen pizza I had recently consumed, "perhaps next weekend".