My friend, Josh, and I planned a trip (I use the word "plan" loosely here- all we did was book hotels for five nights and decide what time to leave for the 8+ hour drive) and everyone told us we were crazy, we were going to get into trouble, five days was too long to be in Vegas, and the worst- that we were going to come back married to each other (spoiler alert: we did not). Despite their warnings, I hadn't taken a vacation in a really, really long time and we felt like we deserved this.
Fast forward to the end of the week, and I didn't want to leave. I loved Las Vegas. Gambling was fun, Cirque du Soleil was amazing, the food was delicious, the drinks were free. I had the time of my life.
While we were there, another friend of mine passed through Las Vegas on his way home from a hiking trip. I guess he felt he owed it to himself to stop, so he hopped out of the car and took a photo of him and his dog by the iconic "Welcome to Fabulous Las Vegas" sign. I asked him why he didn't stick around and he responded with something like "Vegas isn't really my scene." He has mentioned this several times since in conversations about my time spent there.
This is not going to be a blog post about how I think Las Vegas should be everyones "scene". However, this friend and I have taken a few trips together, out into the wilderness, and seen beautiful, breathtaking scenery. I, too, hike at least once a week and believe that I have had some of my happiest moments when I was outdoors. I love the mountains, the trees, the rivers and pretty much all of nature. I often spend days plotting my next foray into the woods. However, I also really loved Vegas.
How can this be? Aren't outdoorsy, mountain-loving types supposed to want nothing more than to save up their money and time off for the next summiting adventure? Those who love bright lights, casinos, and free drinks are supposed to spend their off days in bed with the room darkened, waiting for an acceptable hour to consume bloody marys, right? There are "outdoor enthusiasts", "party girls", "bar flies", and so many other labels that others give us (and we give ourselves). I don't understand why we all think we have to be so much of one thing.
I'm 31, so I probably should have figured out what I am by now. It seems most people my age have- they are "mothers", or "adventurers" or "fitness buffs". But some weekends I go to bed at 8:00 so I can get up early and hike 24 miles in two days. Some nights, like tonight, I binge-watch episodes of New Girl and bake brownies for my coworkers while hanging out in my pajamas for two whole hours before the sun even sets. Occasionally, I start downing Red Bull-based shots just minutes after leaving work and end up staying awake until 4:30 in the morning, smoking (legal) marijuana and drinking cheap beer with men old enough to be my father.
Do I really have to choose? Can I like professional sports, liberal politics, exercise, nature, gambling, cocktails, art, sewing, six different genres of music, and fine-tuning my chocolate chip cookie recipe all at the same time? I say yes. Being "well-rounded" is supposed to be a positive trait. While I'm not sure it's a term I would venture to assign to myself, I guess you could say that it boils down to this: I love everything. (Coincidentally, this is something that my family also says, when explaining why they don't really need a Christmas list from me, and why I am always the easiest to buy for.)
I advocate trying new things. You might like them (or even love them), and maybe find a new hobby. If you're me, you might find six new hobbies. It seems dangerous (in this very fluid society that we find ourselves in) to be just one thing. Why not be everything, instead?
Now excuse me, I need to go book my next flight to Sin City and take these brownies out of the oven.
