Sure, those three places are all different, for different reasons. Las Vegas is, by and large, cleaner and nicer than the other two. Atlantic City is cheaper and no frills, plus it has a beach. New Orleans has zepolis (come on already with the fucking beignets) and no issues with drinking in public.
But what they have in common is that they’re all dens of sin. Whether it’s gratuitous drinking, excess gambling, wild overeating or any combination of the three or those unlisted, you never leave there without some level of regret.
A full weekend in any of the three is more than enough time for any of us to spend there on vacation.
So, when it’s time to finally pack it up, get in the cab and head to the airport or bus terminal or wherever you’ll spend the next few hours feeling sad about your life choices, the only thing that should stop you from taking your life or laying face down in your own vomit is the clear notion that you’ll be rid of these places in short order.
To be clear: I love going to each of these places and I will go back multiple times before I’m done on this Earth. However, each time it’s over, I’m more than ready to head home.
Polar Opposite of this Feeling?: It’s hour three of a delayed bus/train/plane and you haven’t left yet. And you don’t know when you’re going to leave. And you’re hung over. And you’ve got no money left. And you hate your friends.
scott spinelli 