Personally, I wouldn’t go to Vegas on a, ha!, bet. I fear that it would be too much like Atlantic City for my liking: not in terms of amenities, but in terms of how people treat each other.
I once made the mistake of laughing about this song in front of my dad. Turns out that he had had a pair of blue suede shoes, back in the Fifties, and some [expletive deleted] went and deliberately stepped on them – which apparently wrecked the shoes, and that’s when the fight started.
…I mean, my dad felt obligated to take a swing at the guy who wrecked his shoes. Not at me. I didn’t have anything to do with his shoes being wrecked.
…No, the guy who my dad took a swing at didn’t get his shoes wrecked…
Look, just don’t step on the freaking shoes, OK? OK.