A letter to American Girl

Dear American Girl.

So. I know that you went to Vegas this weekend with American Boy and a mutual friend. I’m not going to lie, I’m a little jealous. It’s not fair. It should be me getting to go over to Vegas and see you, not this other guy (man, he’s not even a good host!).

Anyway it’s made me think about when I was over in 2008 and we took a little road trip to Vegas for a few days.

I remember getting up at ridiculous o’clock in the morning, feeling very confused and still a little jet lagged to climb into the car and begin the journey. And we had a Wendys which was very exciting.

And we saw lots of cacti on the sides of the road and American Boy informed us that Arizona was the only place that particular type of cactus grows.

Road trip + important trivia = Amazingness.

It kind of took forever though. Why is America so big?

And we stopped off at the Hoover Dam. Which is kinda big. And I felt kind of gross just wandering around in tracky bottoms and a t-shirt borrowed from American Boy but then I realised that there were loads of weird tourists wearing similar things so I didn’t feel as bad.

And then we got to VEGAS (you always have to say it like it’s spelled in capitals) and we got to our hotel that was called the Tropicana and which made me sing Wham songs any time I thought about it. How quickly did that get annoying?

I wish I remembered everything that we did and on what day but it all merged into one really because VEGAS is a little mental. I think it screwed with my head a bit. I had no concept of day or night or anything in between because nothing. ever. stopped. It was so confusing.

Jet lag + Vegas = Hurting brain.

Do you remember going to our Stripper 101 class? And the ladies taught us to dance all sexy like? (Except when I did it it didn’t seem sexy so much as just plain awful.) And remember how the next day I nearly cried when I was getting changed because I couldn’t lift my arms above my head? Man that was a good workout.

Remember when we had sushi with Sherman? We were queuing up to eat at a half price sushi place and the waitress told us that we were unlikely to get in because guests of the hotel had priority and then Sherman appeared out of nowhere and said that we could eat with him. So we all sat at a table together and he freaked me out so much that I could barely speak and you were pretty sure he was a crazy axe murderer type. I do wonder what Sherman’s up to now.

Ha and how about when we went to Studio 54 inside the MGM (and while we’re on it, how about the real life lions in the freakin’ MGM?) and my head nearly fell off at the amazingness of it all? And we drank vodka and red bull until our livers nearly exploded and danced like crazy people (one of us kept showing off moves we’d learned in the Stripper 101 class if I remember correctly) and then dancing almost naked ladies appeared from the ceiling and did all kinds of acrobatics – remember that one that was like spinning round by her neck?! And then there were balloons and gold confetti falling from the sky and then you said we had to leave and I was like “WHY?! THIS IS THE MOST AMAZING NIGHT EVER!” and you pointed out that it was gone 3am (another example of being able to not tell what time it was, that place was still jumping man!) and then we went back to the Hotel Tropicana and we went to restaurant and we ate chips.

Was that the night that we got in and American Boy demanded that we order pizza and then passed out before they came? Or was that another night?

And then the next morning when we had to get up ridiculously early to go to the House of Blues to an all you can eat buffet with gospel singing? Yeah that was a poor life choice. I wanted to cry because the sight of all the food made me throw up at first (although I was pleased I pulled it together at the end and managed to eat the jambalaya. Man that was good jambalaya.) and then I didn’t feel much like praising the lord at 10am with a raging vodka and red bull hangover. And then we had that photo taken of us all and we look like absolute shit. I love that photo, I look at it all the time and it makes me laugh.

There were about a billion other things that happened, I haven’t even got around to mentioning the time when we saw the hookers being talked to by the police (and you taking a photo of it) and how I wanted to cry when we saw the fountains playing at the Bellagio because it was so amazing and I was so happy to be there.

Anyway I just wanted to say thank you again for taking me there. We need to go back one day you know. Then I might even work up the courage to actually gamble instead of messing about on the slots.

I miss you, you know, I think we need to work on bringing America and Britain closer together. And I mean physically. We’ve already got the ‘special relationship’ going on lady.

Love

The Girl

PS Are you crying yet?