horror show

I am in La-La Land, can you believe it Maria?

I actually can not.

Despite being here for a good two weeks now.

I’ve marvelled at blue skies laced with palm fronds, entangled amongst the infamous traffic and devoured burger upon burger and yet, it is all so surreal.

Overall it hasn’t been on the most courtliness of terms. We’ve had payment issues and I’ve had financial scares. But mostly it’s been the incessant bickering that has marred this journey thus far.

You see my travel companion is not the most mature or independent of beings. She is very much reliant on myself and for the most part incredibly naive and self absorbed. She is a forceful character and merciless when it comes to the feelings of others. She is never wrong and sees the world ever so differently to myself. Something we tend to disagree upon most of all. She sees America as “dirty” and “unmodernised” and calls Americans fat because of the “excessive” portion sizes and all the “grease” on their foods.

Everyone is entitled to their opinions, yes, but I feel like such things are best kept behind closed doors and not shouted from the pavements for onlookers to overhear.

Despite all this, the catalyst for my despondent views on this vacation stems from the horror show that was my birthday weekend in Las Vegas.

image via tumblr

The few weeks prior to my departure I’d been having serious doubts about this voyage. Despite a vacation being something that I’ve been innocuously dreaming and yearning for years now. These doubts came from the discouragement in not having my friends join me on such a venture. The thing is no one actually could/wanted to join me on my birthday carouse.

Oh what a fool I was. To think, nay, dare to dream that those I hold near and dear felt the same as I, that they would even consider such a thing.

That they would think of me at all!

I had such a vision for this birthday too. Awaking from my slumber one sleepy Saturday morn to a score of girls unabashedly rushing to my side, adorning me with flowers and balloons whilst singing a merry tune. I would have no doubt felt the most loved and cared for. And even if they did no such thing, having them there with me on an incredibly pivotal adventure would have been something I’d treasured for an eternity.

But that was not to be.

Instead I was graced with nothingness; not even a “happy birthday!”, from my only travel companion. In fact she made it even more melancholic than had I stayed back in Australia and celebrated alone (as I no doubt would have). And if I had done so, at least I’d have my wonderful sidekick by my side, knowing that she cares for me as deeply as I do her.

Overall my birthday was horrid, painful and something I wish not to think of ever. It started with opulent expectations in the city that never sleeps and like most of my dreams, ended in a cold and bitter reality. Though that Saturday morning was sunny, it was still accompanied with a hangover, followed by squabbles at lunch then more annoyance by dinner. No present or well wishes received, no cake or candles to blow and make a wish from. And to top it all off, both meals were paid for by yours truly.

Somehow my actual birthday night ended up being a celebration for hers as she proudly exclaimed to any passerby that she’d turned twenty-one some weeks ago. She’d seemingly forgotten that mine was actually that day. And even more unbelievably at bars when getting carded SHE was being congratulated for a prior birthday over my own! The most disparaging was meeting a bartender who also shared the same birthday as myself. He was one year younger than I and somehow even he managed to dismiss my own and only remember that she turned twenty-one some weeks ago. I get it, twenty-one is a big deal in America but damn it, isn’t the big three zero also?

Or is it just me? Those invisible tendencies stretching across seas now?

Geez, what the hell is wrong with me?

To make matters worse I had to play babysitter to my friend who was pulling up strangers on the street to converse. That doesn’t sound entirely dramatic, except if you factor in that I too was inebriated and experiencing difficulty walking and seeing straight. I was also feeling overly dejected over the nights events. As a “friend” she was supposed to assist me back to the hotel safely, and yet she continuously abandoned me for other more lively beings. Like making out with an eighteen year old boy (I suspected he was younger still). And at one point I completely lost sight of her and decided to make my way back to our hotel painfully alone and bitterly dissatisfied.

It was a most debasing night, doing nothing to uplift these weary spirits of mine. I can’t help but regret the decision to travel now, especially with her. Her thoughtless ways proving too irritating for me. As are the constant reminders that I am “old and boring” when it comes to what attracts me, like the sun setting, or something whimsical and art museums.

I actually feel like I’ll need another vacation because of this vacation.



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