I hate Las Vegas

We’ve all come to the consensus that Vegas is not our town. Even though the good folks at Viva Las Vegas Hotel and Wedding Chapel (the only place in Vegas that does gay weddings?) were generous enough to give us four themed rooms, we’re still on a budget, and Vegas is not the place for people who don't have much bread. We realized too late that we should have gone to a dive bar or some old town casino, but the lure of the strip was strong. After a gluttonous buffet experience, we spent the rest of the night meandering about among all the empty spectacle like brain-dead zombies. Adam was the mouthpiece to our discontent, and his vocal tirades and (loud) abhorrance of the place was eventually enough to push us over the line. Even the miles of dead-eyed gamblers endlessly feeding coins into beeping boxes don't get us any good photo shoots or interviews. This is possibly the most evil, dehumanizing shithole on the planet.



When it's time to retire, we split up into our four lovely honeymoon suites at the Viva Las Vegas (the Blue Hawaii room, the Egyptian Room, the super-coked-out Disco Room and the "Gothic" Room which includes a coffin themed bed and bathtub and a mural of Dracula on the door.

The Morning is all hangovers and realizing the extent of the damage done by the india ink that was spilt all over the bedspread and everywhere else. I slept (or rather fell over) in the Disco Room where everything was soft pink neon and mirrored surfaces. I walked into a completely destroyed room complete with polaroids tossed into empty whiskey cups and watercolor paintings scattered all over the muddied floor.We were ready to go early even though our shoot wasn't until three when the "nice" Elvis started his shift. We shot two newlywed couples as they came out of the back door of their five minute wedding chapel.