Though the adage goes "what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas," the results of our Las Vegas excursion were too juicy to be kept a secret. Methinks we shall coin the term, "what happens in Vegas to Lumbercat gets shared to our 4 blog readers." Yeah, I like that better.

Previously this summer, we rolled through San Fran just long enough to catch breakfast and feel like true ballers. So why not roll through Vegas for dinner and continue our rockstar tradition? Decision made. After taking up half the parking garage for MGM Grand and hoping we wouldn't get towed, we figured we owned the city and it was ours for the taking. We loaded our pockets with spare change won by street performing and strutted in.

Our first plan was to grab some buffet and fill our tanks for the next few days on the road. Looking classy in our Chacos and sweaty tank tops, we strolled up to the payment counter and asked how much we'd need to spend for dinner. $32 for an all day buffet. And they closed in half an hour.

As we walked away slightly defeated, the loose change was burning a hole in our pockets, ready to be blessed and multiplied like the loaves and fishes we wished were in our stomachs. We explored the slots, looking for the one calling our Lumbercat name. The machines only took bills. We could find pauper slots that took coins of starving musicians further downtown, not in the likes of MGM Grand, no sir.

We piled in the van, filled up on gas, and grabbed some Taco Bell out of town.

Vegas sucks

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