I’m not going to write a blog post today.
There are more pressing things at hand. Like driving through the desert to a neon-lit oasis where gambling is permitted, alcohol flows like wine and where the beautiful women instinctively flock like the salmon of Capistrano.
I am embarking on what will likely the last bachelor party I’ll ever attend. One of my last single buddies is getting married, so my merry band of idiot friends and I are once again on our way to Vegas.
A few months ago, I asked the groom if there were any plans for a bachelor party. I was aghast when he said there were none and offered to help plan it. (I was made for organizing stuff like this—especially Vegas.) Now after a couple of months of internet research, phone calls, confirmation numbers, dinner reservations and emails, it’s finally here.
I used to go to Vegas every six to nine months.
It’s been three years since I was last there.
I absolutely love Vegas.
I love my buddy.
I can’t wait to celebrate.
And this is why there will be no blog post today.