Everyone knows that what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, and after a few days there, I’ve concluded that one of the main reasons is that it’s just hard to put the Vegas experience into words. That’s is one crazy, fast-paced, weird, and exciting city. In order to respect this creed, I’ll give just a few glimpses of my trip for a somewhat unusual but revealing perspective: my feet.
First of all, to my surprise and delight, Vegas involves a lot of walking. Taking a cab along the strip really isn’t worth it unless it’s pouring rain since traffic is slow—and it’s much more fun to walk amongst the crowds anyway. So my feet did a whole lot of strolling. Thankfully, I had an old broken-in pair of flats (shown standing on the sea glass sidewalk outside of Treasure Island):
Naturally, Vegas also involves one amazing night life. So next up is my going out feet, which were bedecked in several pairs of gorgeous shoes that my mom bought me before my departure:
All the casinos start to blend together so I can’t remember exactly where these were taken—The Wynn, Caesar’s, The Venetian, MGM (my favorite)…we did it all. Vegas doesn’t have much in the way of textiles, but the casino carpets are beautiful, no? My going out feet did more than I can recount: they danced, they drank, they saw shows, and they mostly did things I don’t have pictures of—they even gambled. Yes, it turns out I enjoy Black Jack. This is probably because I had miraculously good luck and never walked away from a table without winning—I think I have the double yokes to thank for that. I realize gambling doesn’t always turn out so nicely.
My going out feet also dined. Oh man did they dine. I don’t think I’ve been to a city with so many amazing restaurants. I can’t possibly recount all the exquisite food, but there are highlights. First of all: the meat. So much good meat. To start, Osso Bucco at Fiamma:
Then duck and seared foie gras at Joel Robuchon:
And wagyu, oh wagyu (domestic and Japanese), at Craftsteak:
There are no words. It was glorious, succulent, melt-in-your mouth good—and hey, it was Kyle’s birthday on Sunday so we felt justified in going a little overboard…all weekend long…
There was also lots and lots of good bread, which certainly inspired the bread baking side of me. Craftsteak starts you out with these miraculous little buttery balls of heaven:
But the true yeasty highlight was the bread cart at Robuchon. This is the kind of place where subtle picture-taking is best so I didn’t snap a shot of the entire cart and all its glory, but I’m estimating 20 different kinds of bread, of which we enjoyed roughly 10 (obviously, not all pictured):
Included in the mix: saffron foccaccio, bacon baguette, gruyere brioche, and milk bread. Saffron-infused bread? Now that’s something I have to try.
We also had lunch at ‘wichcraft (gotta love Tom Colicchio), where I had a ham, cheese, apple, andcaramelized onion sandwich on beautiful marbled pumpernickel, another one that I’m going to have to try making on my own:
Yes, they know how to eat in Vegas. So it’s fortunate that it’s also a really fun city for running. This was perhaps the biggest shock of all—I wasn’t expecting my attempts at maintaining physical fitness to be a highlight of the trip, but I was wrong. I quite enjoyed my running feet mode:
That’s right, those are bare legs. Compared to Boston, Vegas is balmy (in reality, about 65 degrees), so I could actually run with the fresh (well, relatively) air against my skin. But running along the Vegas strip is also wonderful because it is seriously entertaining. You’re so distracted by your surroundings, six plus miles have flown by before you know it—where else can you run through Paris, New York, Venice, and Rome within an hour? Bizarre, but fun. The skywalks also spice things up—let’s just say, sprinting up stairs works a whole other set of muscles. And fyi, if you think running up the down escalators probably isn’t that hard, as I mistakenly concluded when I saw a very muscular young man do it with seemingly no effort, you’re wrong. That’s some hardcore cardio right there. Given these runs, I felt pretty justified in my overindulgences.
But overindulgences also require the occasional recalibration, so I kept up with my daily headstands. Hence my upside down feet:
I’ve barely scraped the surface of the past few days, but let’s just say Vegas agreed with me more than I thought it would. Don’t get me wrong: I won’t be moving there any time soon, and the overall ethos of the place is hardly one that I admire. But, if you take this city for what it is—over-the-top and wild, with no pretense of having a refined culture or respectable moral values—it’s fun.
Fun…and exhausting. By the end of a few days, my Vegas feet were blistered, sore, and wacked. So much so that I bought a $5 pair of flip flops to wear on the journey home so my poor toes could breath:
I was quite happy to get on the plane and back to my crafting ways. On the flight there, I finished my first scrappy sock, and by the end of my return flights, I was a bit more than mid-way through the second (I probably would have finished it if I haven’t been so desperate to sleep):
Pardon the mediocre shot, but you’re not really supposed to take pictures on planes so I had to be quick. This is a happy, resting, warm foot—on its way home!
And here’s a better shot of the socks.
They’re my own pattern which means very simple: basically, a tube with an afterthought heel. A bit of a pattern has emerged amongst the stripes and cubes, but the color placements follow no rhyme or reason–and they certainly don’t match.
Finally, I should probably mention that today is my birthday: I’m a ripe 23 years old. Actually, writing that makes me feel really young and very grateful, as if I can’t believe all that I’ve done in a rather short amount of time. I guess that’s a good thing, right? Who knows where my feet will take me next.