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After three days of wandering, shooting, chatting and blogging, we accepted a monorail ticket from the fine folks at Cherry Bomb and caught a cab from the MGM to McCarran International. We've seen some wonderful stuff, marveled at an insane amount of asinine crap, witnessed every walking clich one can imagine, watched a major automaker's PR people max out their credit card on dinner at the Bellagio, been chatted up by scantily-clad ladies of questionable OEM status, run into old friends and made some new ones. SEMA's always exhausting, and this year was no exception; the sheer sensory overload and teeming mass of people can leave one feeling a bit like a ghost. Now we're off to Los Angeles to find a suitable headquarters for Jalopnik's brand-spankin' new SoCal bureau. We'll yell at you more next week.
Related:
Oh Crap. Not Vegas. Not Again.
