I have a total soft spot for Las Vegas.
I know the stereotypes. Trust me, 99% of them are on-the-nose accurate. Watch Vegas Vacation and your eyes will be opened to the wonder that is Sin City. I swear it’s all accurate…if Vegas were stuck in 1997. My first time in the city left me completely entranced. Vegas is an anomaly. In the middle desert, it’s hard to believe anything exists outside of the flashy metropolis. However, if you extend your visit beyond the borders of the strip, you find treasures.
Like rugby. Brutal, bone-crushing rugby.
Since 2011, my family has ventured to Vegas for the USA Rugby Sevens Tournament. It’s basically three days of savage battles between the most elite countries in the world. Except the soldiers are athletes who wear short shorts and maintain Shrek-like physiques. These men could lift a bus with one arm while cradling a small child in the other–the perfect balance of brute strength and delicate form. Rugby is truly a gentleman’s sport. It’s also great for those whose love language is physical touch. I mean, look at those guys. SO MUCH AFFECTION.
Last weekend, señor and I made our fourth trip to the tournament. We made some goals in the past, but we’ve realized that our days primarily consist of rugby, shopping, and eating delicious food. It’s, like, a really hard weekend. Do you think it’s easy sitting through hours of rugby in a comfy box seat overlooking the stadium and stuffing your face with wings every chance you get?!
Per usual, the weekend certainly didn’t lack in entertainment. The highlight reel included…
// Learning Elvis drives a mini-van. Obviously, a disappointment.
// Watching a USA fan rush the field, retreat back to safety, evade security for 30 minutes, and get the entire crowd to cheer “LET HIM STAY!” before being thrown out of the stadium. Respect, drunken man. Respect.
// Celebrating South Africa kicking some New Zealand booty in the finals.
// In addition, celebrating the minimal amount of vuvuzelas this year. My ear drums are still recovering from years past…
// Confirming my claim that karaoke is not karaoke until someone sings Sweet Caroline. Bah, bah–STOP.
// Photo booths with dads. Specifically, mine.
// Sporting ridiculously patriotic rugby jerseys. Next year, I vote matching track jackets. ‘MURICA.
The only true disappointment of the trip was learning that Britney Spears wasn’t performing that weekend. You think I’m playing, but you cannot deny how epic that concert would be. My next best option: Donny and Marie. Oh, sweet 1970’s throwbacks, NO.
Vegas is easily the most ridiculous, non-stop city I’ve ever visited. What it lacks in sustainability (on so many levels…), it makes up for in intrigue. Until next year, you unpredictable desert city!