Back In Vegas

I left the bubble this weekend. It's hard to believe it, but I did. I left Oxford and Miami University behind to make a trek to Cincinnati. Let me tell you, it was an eye opener.

See, here in Ox-Vegas we don't see poverty, we barely even know it exists even though it's more prevalent than we all think. Any student who drives to the local Wal-Mart can see real poverty, but we choose to ignore it. We choose to ignore the fact that there's a trailer park nearby that's filled with people who barely make the bills (or don't make them at all). But in Cincinnati, you can't help but notice it.

I stayed in the Ramada on West 8th Street. It's not a bad hotel, actually it's one I would recommend if you're short on cash. But it's not exactly set in the nice part of town. In fact, right across the street is a Marathon gas station that sells alcohol to minors, even after checking IDs. Needless to say, the setting was somewhat surprising to my sheltered eyes. What's even more surprising is meeting a guy in a pin-striped suit, wingtip shoes, and a top hat who calls himself "Panty Snatcher." He and I got along real well.

But, the 'Natti and the surrounding areas are surprisingly black and white. On one street you might be hunkering down in case you get shot at, but the next one over is like Rodeo Drive. And don't even get me started on Newport, Kentucky. I don't know if I've ever seen a town that can throw you from light to shadow in less than a block.

Back to Ox-Vegas, though. I've got no updates on the nightlife or anything as of now. My bad, I wasn't in town. But I'm sure if you wanted to postulate what happened it can be summed up in a few choice words, such as debauchery or sin (my personal favorite). You get the picture.

Seriously, though, ladies and gentlemen, open your eyes to the bubble you live in. It's far from perfect, but we can at least pretend that's not true.