Here are the pictures.

Day-by-day, here's the Cliffs Notes version:

Thursday, Aug. 5
Arrived at the Hilton at 3 p.m., hung at the pool bar for a couple of drinks, wondered what the hell all these kids were doing here, thought it best not to kill them yet, lost some cash playing roulette and blackjack, met some friends at the Hard Rock for drinks and more blackjack, ran into a few bachelorette parties, played cards next to a MILF from Vail, left at 2 a.m. to rest up for an early day at the Hard Rock pool, played blackjack and drank till 4 a.m. at the Hilton, went to sleep down $250 at the tables.

Friday, Aug. 6
Let's just run down what I had to drink this day, in order, from noon to 5 a.m.:

• 2 beers at the Hard Rock pool
• 3 beers inside at a Hard Rock BJ table
• 1 beer at the outdoor bar
• 3 beers at the swim-up blackjack table
• 2 beers at the Hard Rock pool (again)
• 2 beers at the Hilton pool
• 1 beer with dinner at Rum Jungle at Mandalay Bay
• 2 beers at the Double Down Saloon
• 2 cranberry and vodkas at Rum Jungle
• 3 shots at Rum Jungle
• 3 beers at a Hilton BJ table

Twenty-four drinks in 17 hours at eight different places. My liver is going to sue for personal injury.

Lost only $50 at the tables.

Saturday, Aug. 7
Bummed around the Hilton most of the day while some of the crew golfed in 104-degree weather, hit the Strip with my roommate and finally got some good pictures, ate at Battista's Hole in the Wall Italian restaurant, went to Venician, Bellagio, Paris, New York New York, Bally's, saw lines for everything (restaurants, clubs, bars), came back to Hilton at 3 a.m. and had an awesome time playing blackjack with a group of strangers till 7:30 a.m.

Broke even at the tables.

Sunday, Aug. 8
Checked out at noon, needed to kill a few hours so was forced to play blackjack next to some real losers, upgraded to first-class on the return flight (only $150 more and I needed to rest), tried to stay sober, ran into some fun people at the FOX Sports airport bar which made that impossible, returned to my apartment at 3 a.m.

Lost $190 at the tables, which I didn't even want to play, but had to wait for the flight.

Now topic-by-topic:

The Hilton: I stayed there because my flight was already $380, having booked it late. So three nights for $200 at a reputable chain seemed like a good deal, and it was. The Hard Rock, by contrast, was something like $349 a night. So much for Vegas being a cheap town. But the Hilton was hardly a happening spot. It's a ham-and-egger joint, for low-rollers and the tragically un-hip. Some were absolute freaks, but I met some nice people, and the staff was great, even if the cocktail waitresses all had old, saggy boobs. The pool scene sucked. Tons of kids making background noise all day, and the usually empty bar had two TVs showing a Hilton logo all weekend. Inside, it wasn't much better. Best option: gamble.

The Hard Rock:
A few of my friends stayed there, and it was awesome. Probably the best hotel party spot, especially during the day at the pool, at which I spent Friday afternoon. Ice-T was there, but I didn't notice him, only the blonde hoochie on his arm, sporting a thong and enormous fake breasts. A couple of NBA guys were there, including one with an "In Bickerstaff We Trust" tattoo. Not sure who he was. The day started out as huge sausagefest. At one point, I counted 24 guys and one girl in the center of the pool. I was afraid to go in, for fear of swimming into a dick. Later, the ratio got better, and the swim-up blackjack table was a blast. Drinking free beers, gambling sandwiched between chicks and winning $150 is always gonna be a blast, I guess. One unattractive clown who'd just gotten to the pool asked a group of bachelorette party chicks to rub lotion on his back. He said it without the slightest bit of charm or jest. They passed.

By 7 p.m., I'd been wasted for hours and had forgotten to eat. Absolutely did not cross my mind. Still doesn't top the morning after Block Party 1992 at Syracuse University when I woke up hungrier than any point in my life because I'd forgotten to eat for an entire day.

The Chicks:
There was a lot of eye-candy, mostly depending on where you go. Pound-for-pound, the Hard Rock and Mandalay Bay were the best. The Bellagio wasn't bad, either. Said one blackjack dealer to us, pointing the direction of a hottie, "I'd cheat for her." But most had rings or boyfriends on their arms. Another clear signal that New Yorkers stay single much later in life than around the country. I met a 32-year-old with three kids. One year older than me, and her life couldn't be more different.

A couple of my friends were approached by hookers. I don't even know if I saw any, though taxi drivers asked every night if I was interested. They get referral fees, probably between $50 and $100, for passing along customers.

Vegas in General:
One thing that stuck out for me was how unnatural the place is. Meaning, it's a city that's totally been invented and could almost pack up and relocate elsewhere. Not a bad thing, but just a distinction that makes it different from other party spots I've visited: South Beach, Key West, Amsterdam, New Orleans, Montreal, etc.

The best part about Vegas, like New York, is that you say "when." Total freedom to do whatever you want whenever you want to do it. If that ain't living, I don't know what is.

Highlights:
• I should've gone to bed at 5 a.m. Sunday morning, up $200 at one of the Hilton's $10 blackjack tables, but five strangers and I were having too much fun. We were clownin', yelling and screaming over $15 wins, drinking our asses off, giving each other nicknames, relishing in just being a bunch of goofs as sunrise neared. Then came the kiss of death: a female Asian dealer. When god handed out personalities, he skipped over these gals. Not a smile, not a zinger, not a hint of a strategy tip for newbie players clearly are sweating out 4s and 3s and such. This one particular lady cleaned out a couple of our crew, doing so devoid of any personality that would want them to continue playing. One spilled a drink all over the table, drawing her ire. It was like a record skipping, the end of the great party, though a few of us did move to another table for a couple more hours, which is when the Minnesota girls had to leave for their flight. I was able to get in three good hours of sleep before my roommate checked out.

• The priceless look a friend and I gave each other when some sea hag sat next to us to play blackjack at the Bellagio. A minute earlier we had been pointing out the hotties on the floor, thinking one might wanna play a game or two. We busted.

• No less than three dealers complimented my $115 Fossil watch, which was pretty flattering in a town where people overspend just to impress.

• The Yankees went 4-0 while I was away. It's been going that way all year. And I didn't even make a dime on it. The sports book was too depressing to sit and watch, and the odds were so in New York's favor that I didn't see the point in betting on a game I wasn't gonna see. Some Sox fans were at the Hilton pool and wanted their pictures taken with seven half-yards. Before I snapped the shot, I quipped, "Say 'Go Yankees.'"

Lowlights:
• The weather (hotter than Satan's nuts), the lines (skipped every place that had one), the overwhelming feeling that it's a city of access — who you know, how much money you spend, how you look. I guess that's life, but it's not a game I feel like playing.

Sports Future Bets Placed:
• $10 on Tiger Woods to win the PGA Championship (7/1)
• $20 on the Yankees to win the World Series (9/5)
• $20 on the Chargers to win more than 4 1/2 games this season (-115)
• $10 on the Giants to win more than 6 games this season (-145)
• $10 on the Chiefs to win the Super Bowl (14/1)
• $10 on the Falcons to win the Super Bowl (22/1)