Wandering the strip is my favorite part of Vegas. Unfortunately it’s in the damn desert and is really f’ing hot, which is not exactly pleasant when you’re wearing 3 lbs of toulle around your waist. At least L had the foresight to get white tshirts for us. (My sweaty pits thank you.)
Luckily open container is very legal in Vegas, so you can keep yourself cool and
dehydrated while you walk 7 miles to burn off your lunch of fried pickles, mingle with the Hoot clan, and cause a ruckus in the M&M store.
Paper bags are completely unnecessary, but EB is from Cleveland so it comes naturally to wrap up a cold one in pretty brown paper. Adds class, she says…
(just like sticking your hand down your pants and chugging beer does.)