It’s late afternoon in the Nevada Desert and Panic! at the Disco are, if not dicing with death, at least risking a nasty bump… the quartet have decided to amuse themselves by getting strapped into dune buggies and racing around the deserts outside their hometown at 50mph.
… the hazards here are plentiful: rocks and rusting cars dot the landsape. When the shadows lengthen, bobcats and rattlesnakes lie in wait for any unsuspecting arena rock dandies. “Oh great, we’re all going to die,” moans guitarist Ryan Ross, checking his safety buckles.
A bulldog-necked tour guide delivers some last-minute instructions. “If the car rolls over, do not put your arms outside the vehicle,” he warns. “You will suffer an injury. Apart from that, it’s 10,000 acres of fun!”
The 21-year-old Ross shrinks into his seat and sighs fearfully. In the adjacent cart, perennially animated singer Brendon Urie is whooping with glee. With his fighter-pilot goggles, flight jacket and scarf, he resembles a particularly hyperactive Biggles.
“Thank you, Jesus, for desert!” he screams, excitedly air drumming on the steering wheel. Urie squeezes the accelerator pedal, sending the sand beneath his wheels into the air. Worryingly, [this journalist] is sitting in the passenger seat next to him.
As the cars set out across the dunes, some breakneck steering propels Urie into the lead. Drummer Spencer Smith and bassist Jon Walker cruise behind. In the distance, Ross brings up the rear. “What do you expect?” shouts Urie. “He drives a Mercedes-Benz.”
With another shunt of the pedals, Urie flies over a hill and towards an immovable boulder. A quick spin of the wheel sets him on a collision course with a fearsome-looking bush. Rather than attempting an evasive manoeuvre, he crashes through the foliage and burns triumphantly towards the finish line. [This journalist] feels unwell.
“Wow, that was sick,” he laughs, his face now smothered in dust. “See, there’s more to Vegas than drinking, gambling, and boobies. I’ve got sand in orifices I didn’t even know existed.”