There are a lot of things that exist on this planet that are gross.
Cottage cheese.
Wet cat food.
The president's tweets.
Considering the gravity of some of the aforementioned gross things, it's hard to postulate there's room for anything else gross in the world.
Fortunately, there is. And most of it gets sucked up in a place called Circus Circus.
I'm not actually sure where to begin.
Is it the old q-tip I found in my room? The on-site McDonald's? The smell of the entire place that may or may not remind me of burning tires?
No clue. It's a hard call.
Despite my hesitation to partition the yuck of Circus Circus to one specific cause, I can say that it is, well, yuck.
But, my car didn't get stolen and I didn't lose an eye here. Which is an accomplishment for any place on the strip.
Can't say I'll step foot here again, and I suggest you don't, but if you do remember to wash your hands.
Wash them many times.