Very cool description of the day

Wil Wheaton's in Vegas, and last night he wrote this:

On my way out of the casino, I saw a man and a woman in a lounge. A half-empty bottle of wine sat on the table between them. A common scene in any hotel, except . . . he was an Elvis impersonator, dressed in the jumpsuit. She was a bleached-blonde in a spaghetti string top that was having a hard time containing her rather large breasts. Her hair was teased up almost a full twelve inches above her head. They smoked cigarettes while they drank their wine. They were both in their late fifties, and she was in a motorized wheelchair. I am not making this up.

I love how the details about the couple slowly emerge, like single beads being slipped down a string, until finally we have the full picture, and it's nothing like what we expected at the beginning.

Wil is a master.