They say “home is where the heart
is.” I’ve always wondered what this
means, or to be more exact how this applies to someone with a restless spirit
like mine. Is home a physical place or a
mental or spiritual place? And is your
heart this beating thing in your chest or this thing which makes you cry when
you see a slaughtered elephant on your computer screen? I’ve often struggled with this question and
the other question: “are you happy?”
I firmly believe in balance, and I
believe that happiness one hundred percent of the time is a ridiculous
notion. That would be like a serious
overdose of serotonin for your brain and we all know too much of a good thing
is a bad thing. Why? Because as humans we simply can’t deal with
too much of one thing at a time. Case in
point: I flew half way around the world to see one of my childhood friends get
married. Before the wedding I was joking
that yes it was her wedding, but it was also my vacation and a break from
living in place which I am quickly getting tired of. However, landing in New York and having the
most random conversation with the attractive customs officer I realized that
what I needed more than anything was that: humorous and silly conversations
about nothing at all.
Las Vegas gave me just that, and
more. As much as I like my private time,
I also enjoy people, and I had actually forgotten how truly amazing and
friendly Americans are. Despite our less
than ideal government, people around the world usually like us because of our uncontrollable
urge to smile, make inappropriate jokes and abuse the word friend. Case in point: on our second night in Vegas
(well, my second night, the first for the happy couple) we went into this bar
advertising stripper girls dressed as devils.
You can imagine the disappointment when they weren’t there. Anyway, everyone was getting drinks and I was
just sitting there in my happy bubble just enjoying the moment, when I saw a
guy trying to get his friend to take this weird looking shot. She didn’t seem excited about it, so I told
her to just get it and it looked like fun.
Me: Do it! You’re in Vegas!
Her: I don’t know what it is.
Me: Doesn’t matter.
Her: No, you do it.
Me: What?
Her: Please, I don’t want to. Plus, I think you need this shot more than I
do.
Me: Don’t be silly, I wouldn’t want
to insult your friend who bought you a shot.
Her Friend: No please, be a pal and
drink it.
Me: Fine.
Turns out it was a Jaeger and
something else. So for the next five
minutes this group of people were our new friends. They also had an extra shot to which I made
Justin drink with me.
Each night in Vegas is a smear of
laughter and memories, and naturally some stand out more than others. Rewinding a bit was the first night, after
three planes and more than 5000 miles; Justin, Misha and I were blinking and
staring at the city lit skyline from Mandalay Bay on the 64th
floor. Surreal doesn’t even begin to
cover it. In the morning we had all just
been in Moscow, a city famous for grey buildings and a serious love addiction
to the rectangular shape and absolute fear of anything abnormal- and now here
we were in Las Vegas with all of its sparkling lights, replicas of New York,
Egypt and Paris all crammed together, yet somehow tasteful and breathtaking. The word euphoria comes to mind when such
moments are almost beyond words.
Moving onto and fast-forwarding to
the wedding day itself. As per tradition
the night before we were on Freemont Street, the whole wedding party, with only
one mission: making sure that the couple had a great time and consumed as much
alcohol as possible. Freemont Street is
really one of my favorite places in Vegas because 1) it’s much cheaper 2) it’s
where all the super freaks come and play 3) they have music videos on the
ceiling.
On this night I brought the champagne
which I had brought from Russia. None of
us are really champagne drinkers, but a special occasion calls for something
equally special, and since we also didn’t have cups, we just decided to pass
the bottle around. I was quite relieved
that everyone liked it and it had the desired effect of elevating people’s
mood. As we were slowly, and I mean
slowly, I think a turtle could have covered more ground than we did, we took in
the scenery around us. There were a trio
of nun who felt the need to show their breasts, nice. Then there was a transgender woman with even
bigger boobs which just made our whole party simultaneously massage our
shoulders because we just couldn’t imagine carrying that kind of weight. Across from all the boobs was a man sporting
pink fairy wings and a G-string. You
know what really makes me laugh about all of these people? Since they were all wearing make-up which
requires a mirror, they all looked in the mirror and thought ‘damn, I am so
sexy!’ and in their own way, they totally were.
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