Ah, Las Vegas.
Yanks themselves go there for their holidays you know, so it must be good.
The wife and I went there a decade ago on our honeymoon and she always reminds me it was the holiday that I moaned and grumped about the least, so it must have been good.
Now I am about to return to this neon jungle – 10 years older, slightly less hair, slightly more fat, a lot worse eyesight, same vile demeanour – with Jayne and our wee boy in tow.
Since I hit 40 a couple of years ago I never really look forward to anything because I’ve learned that disappointment is always waiting around the corner to mug you, but I have to admit, I’m actually excited about this.
Being a shameless greedy bugger, the thing I remember about Vegas the most is the food. The Americans can sure put it away, whether it be morning, noon or night.
This trip will be special for Jayne and I though, to see it through the eyes of the wee yin and to see how much it has changed since the last time.
I remember being scared stooless in Hollywood, especially walking back to the hotel that night we watched Bruce Willis flick 16 Blocks at Grauman’s Chinese Theatre. What the hell were we thinking?
I was never scared walking around Vegas though and hopefully that remains the case this time around.
The world might be heading towards Armageddon with a US president called Trump and the pound might be getting a damn good thrashing from the dollar because of all this Brexit bull, but as long as there’s an all-you-can-eat buffet with air conditioning and a telly showing NFL games I’ll be as happy as a pig in a pile of poop.