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Chapter Two (Paradise City)
As I wake up in the early morning haze of 25 cent beers and
ringing beeping slot machines, I'm reminded of that old G'N'R song Paradise
City, where the grass is green and the girls are pretty. But in Vegas, what
grass there is, is brown, and so are most of the teeth. Looking out my hotel
window, you can see the city that never sleeps, but often passes out because of
exhaustion. This was it, Capitalism, to its ugly extreme. It was a long way for
me from 1993, back in my first year of University, were taking a trip of this
magnitude to such a huge city of excess would seem like a horrible idea. Where
the first year of University had opened up a whole world of idealism, where all
it need was a spark to start something. Where everybody with a wild hair up
their ass would seem like they, had a worthy cause. But somewhere along the way
the idealism was replaced with, well, realism, where all those hopeless causes
were just a waste of time in a world filled with strip bars, video games and keg
parties. But if you look far enough out a window in Las Vegas, you can see,
Toronto 1993.
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