My never ending search for the macabre and the decadent during Labor Day Weekend started very promising. The Pimp and Ho Festival, held in Las Vegas, was hyped up to be an extravaganza of outrageous proportions. The men dressed like pimps and the women dressed like hos. Not wearing a costume incited a $20 costume tax, so everyone was highly encouraged to revel in splash and color and the basic human desire we all repress in our normal lives. As you can see in the picture, people normally conservative in their corporate lives, were given the proper setting to dress scantily and courageously, and behave very badly. I was geared for a lifestyle that would go from night and well into the day, where I was only aware of the time because the sun was rising. Uninhibition and mischief and downright genuine connections that people never get explore in their lives because they are living out the Grade A government issue social conventions. It started out with promise. the costumes were fabulous and revealing and sparked a vibe and an edge that felt exhilirating. The conversations were free-flowing and uninibited. It ended up being a cocktease of despicable proportions. Unfortunately, I was hooked up with a contingent from the Asian Pursuasion, and they all dressed with flair, but by after-hours, in a private suite, they were extraorinarily and frustratingly sedate and demure, even after taking a plethora of rave culture drugs, namely, E and G. It turned out to be a costume party for them, and not a lifestyle. By around 4AM (when the Festival was finally over) everyone was in their PJs, snuggling with their significant others. Imagine the Math Club taking drugs. I kept the faith until 6:30 AM and I came away only with my riding crop missing. Not even a voyeuristic adventure. It was all just gradeschool shlock. A yawner.
