Viva Nash Vegas

Is that not how the song goes?

Nashville surprised me. As I scanned the radio station for a country music channel playing something I could tap my toes to, I found a great city that can completely be related to Las Vegas – it is a city made of dreams.

The neon lit bars of Broadway splashed colour along the strip, enticing the hoardes of tourists in to hear the live music.

Cowboy boots and little floral dresses seemed to be the fashion statement of choice and more than one person had their photo taken with the giant guitar on the street corner.

Like Vegas, the main street was filled with people there to have a good time. And that vibe is infectious.

So even if you’re not into country music and Nashville isn’t your mecca, it still provides plenty of fun. Although don’t bother with the mechanical bull at Cadillac Ranch, it’s lame in comparison to the true country bull at PBR in Kansas City.

Hitting the strip

I thought seriously about what shoes I was going to wear out tonight.

I was weighing up the pros and cons of my only pair of heels (red patent leather) and a pair of coral flats. Eventually the heels won out as I’d figured we’d be sitting in a magic show and then walk to the nightclub for a night of dancing. They could hold up for that kind of activity.

However, the free magic show tickets we thought we were getting were all gone, so Dustin from Hostel Cat took us on a tour of the Strip instead. If you’ve been to Vegas before, you’ll know that the Strip is not as small as the word implies. Roaming the Strip to check out the casinos and the free shows requires stamina, and a pair of comfortable shoes. I’m not suggesting that you’d want to run up and down in your sneakers, that wouldn’t fit the picture, but a nice pair of flats will keep you on the go more than a pair of sexy heels.

We saw the Mirage volcano erupt in fire and fireworks, we saw the Treasure Island sirens enchant the sailors, we saw the Bellagio lake burst into dancing fountains and watched gondoliers sing to passengers at the Venetian. In amongst these highlights were food stops, chats with impersonators, drink stops, finding ways into others’ photos and a zillion photo stops, but all the while moving quickly up and down the Strip having a great time with new friends from the hostel.

At one stop for a photo in front of the waterfall in the Palazzo or whichever hotel/casino has the ceiling painted to look like daytime (they all kind of ran together into one) Stunt Joel grabbed a fistful of coins that had been thrown in by people making wishes and while I was posing for a photo he threw the wet coins down the back of my top. I think this was because he blamed me for splashing him with water in a wet-tshirt-competition type of way. So my top got wet and suddenly all these people’s wishes had been relocated to me. I was careful to make sure I threw them all back in the water with a sorry, but it wasn’t until I got back to the hostel and went to the toilet that I found a penny had hitchhiked a ride in my undies. All those penny sayings like “find a penny pick it up, all day long have good luck” and “then the penny dropped” and then most crucially “spend a penny” all just kind of came true in that moment.

So when in Vegas, do make sure you roam the Strip. Preferably with a bunch of people in the mood for hijinks (and a pair of flat shoes).

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Tis the season for party dancing

There’s not much I love more than carving up the dancefloor at a party.

It could be a house party, private party or wedding, if there is good music, I will be taking my sharpest dance skills to carve up the floor.

I don’t know why, but it is so much more liberating to dance at a party. I always let way loose on the dancefloor, pulling out all the stops and contort my face and body like it’s an extreme sport.

Perhaps it has to do with more space on the dancefloor in which to show off the grooves that get the cheers, or maybe it’s just that you are among like minded people that you either know or or could potentially know. Either way, there just isn’t the same kind of posing as the dancefloor of a club, where everyone is trying to look better than the next person and where a sour face tries to scare off unwanted attention yet at the same time seem just hard enough to get to attract that hot guy over by the bar.

With Christmas rapidly approaching, I’ve been hitting the dancefloor in all manner of styles from  work parties with my best aggressive dancing to Pink’s “So What” to funky beats on a friend’s dining room floor.  

My feet may be hanging out for the festive season to finish, but the endorphins are having a ball.

See a snippet of dancefloor action here: