For the longest time, I thought Las Vegas was exactly like how it was depicted in the 2009 film “The Hangover.” Despite how ludicrous the idea of a tiger in a hotel bathroom, a drunken friend on the top of Caesar’s Palace and a marriage with a stripper sounded, I always assumed there was some truth behind the city’s reputation for bringing out the wild side in practically everyone. 

Most of my birthday celebrations have been pretty tame, with the exception of my iconic “Breakfast at Tiffany’s” themed Sweet 16. So, I decided it was only fitting to spend my 21st in Las Vegas. 

With my birthday landing on a Friday, I jetted off into the Nevada desert with my boyfriend toward a weekend full of adventure, thrill and more alcohol than I had ever consumed in my life. 

Once we arrived at our hotel, the Encore Tower Suites, we met up with my parents. The clock had just struck 5:30 p.m., and the night was about to begin. When I walked into our hotel room, I was greeted with a sea of pastel pink and white balloons 一 two of which were in the shape of the number 21 一  confetti all along the bed and Frank Sinatra playing on the speaker. We popped open my favorite bottle of rosé and toasted to the amazing weekend ahead.

The first night we ate at Catch, a modern sushi restaurant that also has locations in Los Angeles and New York. As I eagerly anticipated the opportunity to order my first cocktail at a restaurant, I sat up straight and waited for the waitress to ask what I wanted. 

I proudly said, “I would like a greyhound please,” which is grapefruit juice and vodka. I practically had my wallet in my hand waiting for her to card me, but she just nodded her head and wrote down my order. After all this time, I wasn’t even going to get carded on my birthday?

Nevertheless, after a delightful dinner of hand-cut rolls and sashimi, we headed to the slot machines at the casino. Some may find the slots corny, but I couldn’t stop thinking about the episode of “Friends” where Phoebe fights with another slot player in order to get the machine with the best luck. 

Even though I’m not much of a gambler, the mesmerizing graphics and the cacophony of dopamine-inducing sounds with each match had me practically hypnotized. Plus, my dad took the chance to teach me his favorite game: “craps.” When I tried to classily roll the dice for him, I guess I did so with a bit too much panache, because they almost collided with an unsuspecting stranger. 

Later on, my dream of finally getting carded was achieved at a Dueling Piano Bar, where essentially two pianists play hit songs at the same time. Due to the excitement of the hostess not only asking to see my ID card but also wishing me a happy birthday, I delightfully downed two more greyhounds. When every single person around you is constantly saying, “happy birthday,” the alcohol seems to go down much more smoothly.  

The next morning, I realized I needed to rally up for another night of celebrating. So, my dad, my boyfriend and I shook off our grogginess and headed to the New York, New York hotel to ride their iconic roller coaster. 

I went on the Big Apple Coaster a few years ago when I came to Vegas with some family friends, but this time around was far more chaotic. The ride features an upside-down loop, a corkscrew and a 203 foot drop that wraps around the entire hotel.

After blasting down the track at nearly 63 miles per hour, my father lost his glasses, I got a crick in my neck and my boyfriend was shaking in his boots. Sure, we giggled on our way back, but we were thankful we made it out alive. My next vodka soda really helped calm the nerves after that one. 

It wouldn’t be Vegas without a little splurging on items I didn’t really need. My mom and I had ourselves an afternoon filled with window-shopping. In a few hours time, we had actually sealed the deal on a pair of sparkly René Caovilla heels. We also got our hair done at the Tom Ford salon in our hotel, where the hairdresser formed my hair into a sleek high ponytail with a handful of mousse. 

It goes without saying that an updo at the salon would not be complete without complimentary birthday champagne. 

Our final meal in Vegas was at The Mayfair Supper Club at the Bellagio Hotel, a modern-take on supper clubs from the 60s, where dinner, entertainment and booze were all included. I felt like I was plopped into the Christina Aguilara film “Burlesque” as glamorous dancers, outstanding singers and fantastic cuisine swirled around me.

A point in this trip I will never forget is when the host of the show came to our table, and within two minutes of telling him it was my birthday, he urged me to dance in the Conga line with the other dancers. Normally, I would respectfully decline something like this (I’m a writer, not a Conga dancer), but I actually said yes. I’m not sure if it was the cosmopolitan I had just had or the freewheeling vibe of the city itself, but dancing around the restaurant with the other entertainers felt really freeing. 

Going to Las Vegas for my 21st birthday brought out a different version of myself I had never seen before: I was adventurous, daring, spontaneous, and let’s face it, a little tipsy. I could attribute my heightened extrovertedness to the fact I had finally aged out of the awkward in-between phase of being 20, but I think Vegas was more responsible than anything else.

I was able to wear outfits adorned with feathers and sequins, gamble a little too much and eat all the birthday cake I wanted with the added bonus of carrying around a drink at the same time. My dream of becoming a classy, empowered Carrie Bradshaw-esque woman who orders a drink at dinner was finally coming into fruition. 

I want to thank Vegas, for not only giving me a scrapbook of embarrassing and ridiculous memories, but also allowing me to spend my birthday with the ones I love. And of course, for the never-ending stream of alcoholic beverages. I mean, that was kind of the whole point right?