The buffet breakfast was awesome and definitely worth the 14 hours wait in the queue. I've never known a place where you can have bacon, noodles and cake all on the same plate, and not look out of place.
After a leisurely stroll along the strip we got some oxygen (not because I'm fat and needed it. It was just a gimmick like at Leeds Fest) and massage. My back felt worse after it was done, maybe because we put each other in charge of the pulsing machines for a brief time. Needles to say, at one point my arms were controlling my body, and I had no say in the matter. Continuing along the strip, we see smack head hippies selling pebbles. That's right pebbles. It's not as if you can get them for free anywhere. There was a really shit version of Biggie calling some Asian woman a bomber - charming guy really. Nice to see there's no animosity between America and the Eastern countries after 9-11. Two old dudes singing RnB with some dude dancing like he was having an epileptic fit.
Fremont street...well if you're mind isn't weird before this, then it certainly will be afterwards. Midget Elvis, Mr T, Ventriloquist who spoke to Dan about Ken Bates and Thimon Graython, but kept moving the the dummy's mouth. Biggest tits ever. Bizarre Shawn Michaels character singing. Saw a Michael Jackson impersonator who was the double of him, but must have been the mid 80s version as he was still going through the change as he had white hands but his nose was still black.
The dreaded casino was nothing but a fucking bellend to us tonight. The number 27 come out about 15 times on the bounce.