Last week was my first trip to Las Vegas. Of course I had some idea what to expect — you'd have to be living under a rock to not know about the city of neon dreams.

However, my basis for prior conceptions was loosely based on the movie "Ocean's Eleven", the television show "Las Vegas" and my aunt's stories.

The reason for my vacation was my aunt's wedding. In the past, I had always thought couples only eloped in Vegas. So imagine my surprise when she decided to have a planned wedding there.

The wedding itself was very nice. It was in a clean, respectable, white Vegas chapel. But what surprised me was the drive-thru. I seriously saw two couples get married in the back of their limousine. Who gets married in a drive-thru? I just can't comprehend it.

Not to say that there is anything wrong with that type of wedding. I've just never heard of it before.

Now let's talk about the Strip. I was amazed by how highly imaginative the architects must have been to dream up these casinos. Designing a building to look like the skyscrapers in New York — who thinks of these things?

It must be just as fun for the designers, architects and other people behind the scenes as for the people that play in Vegas.

As for the solicitors, it's really not so different from East Lansing. Regardless of which city you are walking around in, fliers, posters and cards still get thrust into your hands, except the ones here normally have something to do with food from places such as Big Ten Burrito or groups like Campus Crusade for Christ. And in Vegas, well, it's mostly just porn.

Fortunately, my years of learning how to politely decline the handouts proved to serve me well. Not once did I have a picture of a naked woman with little stars strategically placed over her body parts end up in my hands. Or wait — maybe they were only trying to hand them to the men and young boys.

Anyway, while in the city of lights, my family decided to see the show "We Will Rock You," a musical based on the band Queen. Think "Mamma Mia!" with the music of ABBA but with a much cooler bohemian rock theme.

I learned from my other aunt that most Vegas shows are only 90 minutes long with no intermission. Could the reason behind this be that the Vegas crowds don't have the attention span of a highly cultured professional?

Sure enough, the crowds weren't anything I was used to dealing with in my theater experiences. I couldn't believe how many people were late and didn't seem to mind walking up and down the rows disrupting everyone in and behind them. I also couldn't believe it when two women in my row got up twice to get more snacks and drinks. This isn't the movie theater, people!

Thankfully, my favorite part of the weekend was the reception for my aunt's wedding. We dined at the VooDoo Lounge atop the Rio Hotel and Casino. Hip ambiance, scrumptious food and a little too much wine made the night quite enjoyable.

Then I hit the dance floor. I was groovin' to the music, showing everyone up. And then the go-go dancers came out. We don't have these in East Lansing — or at least not like these girls. Exactly how am I supposed to compete with sizzling flesh and thigh-high boots?

I'll tell you how — by dancing harder and better than I may have ever danced before. I left that place with the most confidence because not only had I torn the men's eyes away from the gyrating girls, but I also had an audience of women who weren't looking at me for other reasons.

But when one guy who tried to hit on me said, "I don't mean to interrupt," I told him, "So don't," and kept on dancing — I'm not dancing to entertain other people, I'm dancing to entertain myself.

After the weekend had come to a close and I was waiting in the airport for the plane, I was pretty happy with my Vegas experience. True, my body ached from the dancing, my liver was probably writhing from the drinking and there were perpetual bags under my eyes from lack of sleep, but I had a lot of fun.

I probably won't be back to Vegas for awhile. It's just one of those places where a short amount of time is all that is really needed. And so it was back to East Lansing and reality for me.

But not before I took one last pull at the slot machine in the airport of the city of sin.

Jacqueline WayneGuite is the State News arts reporter. Reach her at waynegui@msu.edu.