Atlantic City, New Jersey

Atlantic City is the kind of place you leave with a promise to yourself you’ll never make fun of the Mormon religion again. It’s as if Philadelphia and Las Vegas fucked, but it turned out the real Father was Satan. I’ve left there single, I’ve left there broke, and most recently, I left there wondering why I was throwing up in my mouth in the back of my friend’s Dad’s car. There are two things anybody that’s been to AC will tell you. Never walk out of the casino or your hotel room, and every Cab is only eight dollars. From there, your trip is choose your own adventure. I’ve seen kids from University of Delaware fraternities awkwardly walk into an elevator with their formal date harder than Vince Carter’s knee cartilages. I’ve seen fat Italian guys gamble their daughter’s Penn State money away on Black Jack. And I’ve Let’s Go Brandon’ed my way into exchanging tongues with women my Mom’s age. 

Nobody knows how or why, but Atlantic City never became what it was supposed to be. Don’t get me wrong, it’s still a good time, but it doesn’t have the appeal of a Las Vegas or New Orleans. Sure, there’s some youthful energy, but almost every time I’ve gone there, I’ve pissed next to some guy in his early sixties talking about how funny Andrew Dice Clay was last night. Except, without fail, they’ve referred to him as The Dice Man. The Ocean has the nicest casino because it’s not dim or reminiscent of a restaurant basement in a Robert De Niro movie, but it is pricey. Hard Rock is great, but the crowd is older, and there’s always some kind of niche convention that’s just an excuse for guys to cheat on their wives going on. If you’re going to Tropicana, you should dress like Jay Oakerson because the cash in your wallet has a better chance of surviving in Andrea Yates’ bathtub than it does in your right pocket- hot girls though.

Overall, Atlantic City gets a 6.3/10. I would rank it lower, but the last time I was there, I saw this group of girls walking outside of a fake limo, twerking until their hamstrings blew out, and I thought to myself, yes I probably belong here. 

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