You don’t have to go to the party

I know. Everyone is going.

Someone has a table. Someone knows someone. There will be drinks, music, introductions and another room full of people you’re supposed to meet.

You’ve already spent the entire day meeting people.

Duck out.

From the moment you leave, you don’t have to make another decision.

I’ll whisk you away from the lights and noise and into the quiet, where you can simply be yourself.

No velvet rope.

No booming music.

No one asking what you do.

Maybe no one else around at all.

The lights of Las Vegas disappear behind you.

The sky gets dark.

On the right moonless night, the Milky Way appears.

Not projected on a ceiling. Not another Vegas attraction.

The actual Milky Way, overhead.

Look at it with your own eyes.

Feel small.

Maybe there isn’t another soul around. Just the warm desert breeze and the city suddenly feeling very far away.

Talk to the person you came with.

Or don’t.

The silence is enough.

The party will survive without you.

Tomorrow, while everybody else drags themselves in and compares notes about where they went—and who they saw doing what—you’ll have something much better.

A memory of Las Vegas that you didn’t have to share with anyone.

The flex isn’t getting into another Vegas party. It’s knowing you didn’t need to go.