Las Vegas's Funeral-Personal Narrative

The sky is covered in a black blanket with shiny holes in it. It is 4 in the morning. I flop out of bed and waddle outside and into the car. There are two chairs for three people. I have a bed to sleep on while my dad drives and my mom sits on the other chair. The floor is layered with bed sheets and blankets to protect me from the hooks in the ground. I lay down and the world slowly blacks out. In a thump, my body presses through the layers of protections and hits on of the small hooks. I was asleep for 8 hours until the stupid speed bump broke my back. I scramble to get up and pull of the collapsed chair. I slide on and buckle up. I can’t see anything outside. It is too bright for my eyes to bear with. I can feel vibrations coming from the car though.

The car drives slowly forward and the pulls to a stop at a curb. We arrive at the Jockey Club. The hotel is small and isolated on the outside, but our room is huge and the roof top pool is huge and there is a kitchen there too.Yet we have nothing to do. We have already been to Las Vegas. The lights outside have dulled and they don’t hurt your eyes excessively. The shows have started to die. The fountains at the Bellagio are the same. There is nothing to do. There are no presents or christmas trees. There isn’t any snow either. There is only lights and buildings. There are only TV shows and stove tops. There are only drunk people and crazy people. There are people who dress up and those who play drums. It’s the same tradition for the past two years. The race track is closed so I can’t even watch cars drive super fast. There is whiskey and alcohol everywhere so there is no where to go. The streets are crowded and overflowing with people so you can’t move at all. There aren’t movie theatres or amusement parks to visit. There are only casinos which I am not allowed to even be near. There are only consistent clinks and clanks followed by laughter and