We Went to Zedd and Then We Went to Bed
I wake up to a text message from my grandmother: “Happy Easter! I hope you can find a nice church to go to for Mass. I love you.” My grandmother is one of the most important people in my life — incredibly strong, kind, and compassionate. A true inspiration in my life. That is why I still have not told her I read that message while in bed in a Las Vegas motel.
It’s not what it sounds like. My 24-hour stint in Las Vegas is purely to celebrate a birthday of a girl I met three days prior. I flew to California on a whim (more to come on this topic) to visit Kathleen, a childhood friend who is living in Los Angeles for a semester studying television production. While in town, I am introduced to several of her friends, including Jill, the birthday girl. Earlier in the week, while driving to Venice Beach, Jill suggests we take a last-minute trip to Las Vegas to see Zedd play on her birthday. And that was it. Before I know it, I’m in a car with Kathleen and two new friends cruising through the desert to Las Vegas.
The famous skyline of Las Vegas appears unexpectedly, rising from the cold isolation of the desert like a mirage. Suddenly we are in the midst of a city we would not believe is real had we not seen it on television hundreds of times before.
We drop our bags off at our $20-a-night-each motel and hit the strip. We spend the afternoon wandering the labyrinth of glitzy casinos, bars, and tourist traps. In the spirit of affordability, we split a bag of sliders from White Castle. Not one slot machine is played, not one hand of cards dealt. This afternoon is dedicated to taking in the extravagance that is Las Vegas.
After exploring, we head back to the motel. Another group of friends scored a suite at the Venetian, and that is where we will be hanging out before the show. We spend the next hour getting ready at our motel. Apparently, in Las Vegas, people get dressed up to go to night clubs — suit coats, dress shoes, ties — the whole nine yards. Being used to the Wrightsville Beach bars, I did not even pack a pair of long pants on this trip. Guess I missed the memo. I throw on a pair of soon-to-be-returned dress pants from Marshall’s and a borrowed blazer. Once we all look like we belong, we depart for the strip.
Our Uber drops us off in front of the Venetian, and we depart from the car completely enthralled by the larger than life hotel. Like characters in a rags-to-riches story, we completely forget that one hour ago we were eating a Domino’s pizza in a motel room blocks off the strip.
The suite is mind blowing. We spend the next hour or so soaking it all in and wondering how we even pulled this night off. Finally, it is time to leave for the show. We take an Uber and stop at Marquee, a club inside the Cosmopolitan, on the way. We are on a list to receive free drinks before 11:00, but show up to a ridiculous line at 10:58. We decide to cut our losses and head straight to the Zedd concert.
When we arrive at the hotel, it is buzzing with energy. Thousands of people are playing games, searching for Zedd, celebrating, and enjoying each other’s company. We follow the excitement deeper into the casino until we see the line for Zedd. It is the longest line of people I’ve ever seen waiting for anything, but we do not let that kill our spirits. We excitedly hop in.
After about an hour, the line comes to a miraculous end in a dark enclosure filled with security guards. Loud music pulses in the distance, ensuring us that our hour-long ordeal in the corridors of the Wynn Casino is about to end. One by one, we show our tickets and pass through the security guards and into the venue. I imagine this is what I’ll feel in my next life when I’m promoted from Purgatory to Heaven.
Encore XS, a club surrounding the pool at the Wynn Las Vegas, can only be described as a hallucination. Flashing lights guide us through a forest of lush palms to a huge pool area surrounded by private cabanas. The same pulsing music from outside is still playing, although now it is front and center. We snag a spot on the pool deck behind one of the cabanas. Its occupants are laughing and enjoying bottle service. I, on the other hand, came to Las Vegas with $40 in my bank account. Tonight, that does not matter. Both the wealthy VIP twenty-somethings and myself are all in the same place, enjoying the same concert under the Vegas stars.
It will be another hour or so before Zedd takes the stage. While waiting in line, we learned that concerts in Las Vegas rarely start before 1 AM. We approach a poolside bar, where I am told that a mixed drink will run me $17. It is in that moment that I decide to remain sober for the entirety of an EDM show in Las Vegas. I order a water and return to our coveted spot of patio space and continue taking in the scene, convinced that there is a hidden camera somewhere filming scenes for Pitbull’s next music video.
Eventually, the distant stage lights up and Zedd comes on. The DJ booth lights up, smoke appears, and the beats become bigger and louder. Oddly, aside from the few rows of people directly up front, the crowd does not interact much with Zedd. It is as if these nighttime pool-goers simply need a soundtrack to their otherwise normal night out. The lack of interest seems to be mutual — although clearly an incredibly talented and passionate performer, Zedd does not interact with the crowd much. In fact, we could barely see him, even when we moved up close.
We stick around to hear all the hits — “I Want You to Know”, “Clarity”, and “Stay the Night”, among others. We dance under the lights, not taking a moment for granted. When the show ends, we are exhausted and return to our motel, regressing to our status as poor college kids. In summary, we went to Zedd and then we went to bed.
In the morning, I write my grandmother back, wishing her a happy Easter and telling her that I will be home soon. We hurriedly get ready to head back to Los Angeles. We hit the road, and about halfway through stop at Peggy Sue’s 50s Diner for our own Easter Brunch. This Easter, a grilled cheese replaces eggs benedict, a strawberry milkshake replaces a mimosa, and an adventurous crew of fast friends replaces family. This Easter is different, but it is one I will always remember.
I may not have hit the jackpot in Las Vegas, but I did leave town a winner. I left with new friends, some cool Snapchats, and a lesson. I learned that the best trips are unplanned, the best adventures start with strangers, and the best memories can be made for cheap. I did not leave Vegas with a million dollars, but instead, the belief in all things spontaneous. And that has proven to be more life changing than any amount of money.
