The roar of souped-up tooled motorcycles thundered on the Vegas strip throughout the night, the madding crowd flitted from one elite hot spot to the next at each delightful whim, and the mood was high-spirited and festive!
If you were not (OMG) tripping-the-light fantastic last night in "Vegas", then surely (Shirley!), you must be on God's sh** list.
Vegas is the new "it" city for the rebellious hipster youth (or young@heart), the fashionably chic, and a posse of celeb body-ink artists with motley crue(s) in tow.
At the "Salon of Beauty" (Freemont Street) stylistas - fashionably-attired in richly decorated T's, black straight-legs (or ubiquitious torn designer jeans), and a myriad of bodacious baubles, beads, and pricey eye-catching accessories - chomped at the bit to break free of the long line snaking down the legendary strip and on into the limelight inside the trendy watering hole to feast on a glorious night of wild abandon (duty free).
Downtown, across town, and all-around the town, revellers partied-heartily into the wee hours of dawn.
Whoever said "youth" was wasted on the young was dead wrong.
In the final analysis, take heed kiddies.
Life is not a dress rehearsal.
As James Dean once said:
“Dream as if you'll live forever, live as if you'll die today.”
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