I was on my way to a punk rock show in Las Vegas, which sounds like the start of a song somebody else has already written. The Cosmopolitan had other ideas about the route. I went up to the third floor looking for The Chelsea room, found out my photo access was waiting at the box office on the second floor, walked back down, then headed right back up. When I finally reached the pit, the staff and I got to chat about the crowd. There were little kids, people in their seventie