Saturday, May 10, 2014

It's Britney, Bitch (and Why You Should Never Bus to Vegas)

Britney, Britney, Britney! Maybe if I say her name three times fast enough, she'll magically appear and be my best friend forever.

The minute I heard Britney was starting a residency in Vegas, I knew I had to go. Reality: She's tired, she's troubled and no matter how amazing I think she is, one of these days she's going to call it quits. So I had to see her residency, of course, and the first weekend in May I made the trek over to Vegas for an unforgettable show.

Here's a look at our weekend adventure:


Hopped on a train at Santa Ana Train Station to get to Union Station
Stopped by Olvera Street once we got to LA

Union Station—I hate LA, but this was beautiful
Before showing you some awesomely bad-quality pictures and clips from the show, my advice and NEVER ride the bus to Vegas. It sounded so great at the time—last time I drove I was rear ended off the road—but in actuality, it's not smart. It just isn't. Let me tell you why: First, you have to go up to Union Station in LA from OC. Strike one; LA has cockroaches. And I stepped on one. Second, weed-smelling men carrying a baby who sit behind you on a five-hour bus ride are just two things I detest (the pot smell and babies crying). Third, the bus drops you in the heart of the seedy end of town, where we caught a cab in the most ghetto-ass way possible. 

On the bus ... before we knew what was in store
If that wasn't enough, it was a $22 cab ride to get to our hotel. So right there, you have $40 for two round trip tickets to Vegas, and $44 worth of cab rides to and from the hotel. That's basically gas to get to and from Vegas from Orange County. Not a financially good decision, let alone one that's good for your sanity. Shudder ... never again.

But Britney is a goddess, and that made all of that turmoil just fine. Drunk Viet (who puked ten minutes before the concert) made the 24-hour trip absolutely hilarious, from his inappropriately funny and ineffective pick-up lines ("You're hot," he says to the not-so-hot hotel desk guy; "You look good in those shorts," he hollers at the stranger who's walking 10 feet away from us). Taking into account that a few of his comments had the potential to have us sandwiched between the cement and the belly flab of an angry old man who's wife he sarcastically complimented offended, it was an unforgettable weekend.

And of course, here's Britney: 




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