Substituting one form of self-destruction with another

Back in February, I won $120 in travel vouchers from WestJet. Last week I figured I'd better take a look at the fine print lest I lose the vouchers' value forever. Ends up the vouchers were good only for travel completed by June 1. Since the Sheaf is going to keep me in Saskatoon until June 8, I had to plan a quick, pointless trip in order to derive any value from the vouchers. (Sort of like "I've got coupons for 70% off lychees. I hate lychees, but you can't pass up 70% off!") (Yes, I do hate lychees.) I decided to fly to Las Vegas for four days, because I figured that flights to Las Vegas would be cheap -- they're always on sale, y'know?

Blah blah, booked tickets, hurray. The fun started when I started researching hotels.

Dude, hotels in Las Vegas are expensive. There were only two hotels which had average room rates under $100 per night: Circus Circus and the Hooters Hotel & Casino. Circus Circus was the cheaper of the two, but circuses scare me. It's like all the fun of a carnival, but with more crazy shit you can't control. (Also, I hate carnivals.) I don't need that. But then, see, I couldn't stay at the Hooters Hotel & Casino. Hooters in principle is awesome: chicks in tight outfits serving delicious wings. Hooters in in practice is a big bowl of bad: really unattractive chicks, whose cleavage is their only redeeming feature, in tight outfits serving delicious wings without napkins; maybe if the girls were more attractive, or maybe if the outfits were tighter, or maybe if they did away with the whole chicks 'n' outfits combo entirely and concentrated on the wings, then it'd be ok. As it is ... damn, them wings is tasty.

Anyway, the problem escalated. If I'm staying in a hotel whose core business was founded on the exploitation of unattractive women, then I'm opening the door to a crazy-ass bacchanal. Me, I love the crazy-ass bacchanals, but I'm a terrible liar. If people are going to ask why I wasn't answering my phone for four days, I'll have to tell them it was because I was in Las Vegas. If people are going to ask why I was in Las Vegas, I'm going to have to recount the first paragraph of this blog post, which I would have had printed onto small cards for the sake of efficiency. If people are going to ask how Las Vegas was, I'd have to tell them: it was four days of hookers and wings. Er, hooters and wings. No, no, it was actually hooters and hookers and wings. I looked up the Moonlight Bunny Ranch (you know, the place from HBO's Cathouse!) and it ends up they are going to be filming the next season of Cathouse right when I'm in Las Vegas. I can't afford not to go!

And yet, I couldn't afford not to not to go. It was ridiculous; I'd be looking at $1000 just to get to the brothel. I theorized that it might be best to cut out the middle man and just book a room at the brothel for four days, but I've seen their pool on the show, and it's kinda depressing. Just like the thought of visiting a brothel -- ha-cha! Really, once you start paying money for sex (as opposed to paying with your dignity, which is what I'm used to) then there's no undoing it. You've crossed a threshhold, no takebacks, no erasies. It's like eating a lychee.

Damn you, Las Vegas! I was hoping to get away for four days, and next thing I know I'm paying for sex in the middle of the desert!

I called WestJet and cancelled the tickets. Got a travel credit which is good for a year. That's a-ight. Of course, I still have to pay for the travel credit (minus the original $120), so that's ... something akin to "a-ight", but not quite as good.

So what am I doing with my new lease on life? Going skydiving, that's what. It only makes sense: my grandfather went skydiving at 91, and in my ongoing quest to be one-third the man he was, skydiving seems the likeliest way to continue. I sent out an email to a dozen friends because I don't have a car and because I think it will be more fun with friends and because I don't have a car. From those dozen emails, I have received one yes and two no's. My friends are apparently quite lame; their roles will be re-cast for next season.