Day 3: Tour the strip, find beloved “Golden Putti”, take in a ridiculous patriotic light show that I had convinced everyone would be awesome, drink and watch other people gamble.
Day 4: Rent a car, tour the desert, drag self through endless blazing hot desert walk while not of "sound mind", catch the ol’ red-eye, get alternate ride home because car impounded, stress out with Dee about whether or not the desert scorched our fetus.It didn't, fortunately.
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