Flying westward is a special little type of time travel. The flight out from New York to Vegas is about five and a half hours. So while you’re trying to grab the last bit of shut eye you’ll get for the duration of your trip, you’re racing the sun westward. When the bump of landing jolts you awake with just a little bit of drool. As you take your phone off airplane mode, the clock shows up, and thanks to the timezone change, your trip across the country only took two and a half hours. I can’t tell you how many times this has kicked my ass. You leave in the early afternoon and arrive late afternoon, which means the whole night is yours. That first night in Vegas is murder, because if you crash early, the rest of your trip is doomed. You just have to power through that first night, and hope that you don’t make too many decisions you can’t come back from.