Observations on Las Vegas from a first-time visitor
When you land at McCarran International Airport in Las Vegas, one of the first landmarks you see—basically right next door to the runways—is the Mandalay Bay resort, site of the worst mass shooting to date in modern American history. (Sadly, given our commitment to inaction on this issue, even worse ones are inevitably to come.)
Three days into my time here, I found myself at an outdoor party hosted by the company that sponsored the conference that brought me to Vegas in the first place. It featured a plethora of food trucks, local restaurants, open bars, and a live band (Beck, to be exact), and was notably in a huge, exposed, open lot surrounded by hotel towers—a venue just like the one where nearly 60 people senselessly lost their lives last October.
I’d be lying if I said the thought didn’t cross my mind while I was there. Did anyone else think of it? If so, no one showed it. Everyone was too busy enjoying the (excellent) food, drink, and festivities.
Even in the aftermath of incredible tragedy, life moves on. Las Vegas will always be Las Vegas.
Indeed, this is a place that thrives on denying reality. The conference I attended was at the Venetian; it’s an absolutely enormous complex where you can get lost without ever setting foot outside. In fact, you could easily lose any sense of time or place, period. I’m sure many visitors do.
What’s the weather like? Is it morning, afternoon, or night? You wouldn’t know because there are no windows or clocks in the massive casino, any of the conference rooms, or the entertainment areas. To actually go outside is an undertaking because the place is so huge. It’s much easier to stay inside and play the slot machines while sipping your umpteenth drink of the day.
Naturally, this is all very much by design.
You can dine “al fresco” (not really — you’re still inside) in an area designed to mimic St. Mark’s Square in Venice; the ceiling is painted and lit to look like a romantic evening sky. Following the Venice theme, you can also take a gondola ride on a canal that weaves past cafes and shops; again, this feature is at least partially if not mostly indoors.
For a city built in the middle of a vast desert, there sure are a ton of water features here. From the sky, it looks like someone turned on a giant hose and flooded the dry, parched land to form Lake Mead. When your plane descends toward the airport, you suddenly see clusters of bright-green, manicured lawns and golf courses. And when you’re finally on the Strip, of course, you’re surrounded by water, whether it’s the Fountains of Bellagio, the aquatic “volcano” at the Mirage, or the canals at the Venetian.
Again, all of this is artificial — an attempt perhaps to repudiate nature or forget what’s real. And if your faux surroundings aren’t enough to put you out of touch with the world, there’s booze everywhere to help with that, too. Pedestrians carry it while walking down the Strip because there are no prohibitions against open containers.
Speaking of containers, recycling isn’t a thing here. With the exception of the airport, it was nearly impossible to find recycling bins. For a place that seems openly contemptuous of its natural setting, I suppose this isn’t terribly surprising, but it was still a tough pill to swallow.
All of this probably sounds like a rather harsh assessment of Sin City. It’s true that I might never have visited here of my own accord, but a work conference was the perfect excuse to come and see it nonetheless.
Candidly, I’m glad I did. Some places, when I visit them for the first time, end up defying my advance expectations. Las Vegas did not. In a word, it’s almost precisely what I always envisioned it to be: built on vice. A place where tourists go to get away from their realities and indulge activities they likely wouldn’t speak openly about elsewhere. Fake, materialistic, and gaudy. Exploitative of people’s vulnerabilities — psychological and otherwise.
For better or worse, it’s also a storied part of American culture. In my view, that alone makes it worth seeing at least once, its questionable traits notwithstanding. The glitzy lights, the devil-may-care atmosphere, the (still) smoke-filled casinos, and the artificial feel of it all might not be your thing. You may despise gambling, or, in my case, have never done it even once.
That’s okay. You don’t have to move there, but if you visit, you can probably find ways to have a good time. Just take a walk down the Strip at night, when the desert air has cooled off but there’s still a palpable energy. Do some people-watching. Listen to all the different languages. Take in the show at the Fountains of Bellagio. Step into a restaurant or nightclub for a couple drinks. You’ll see what I mean.
Visiting new places is all about the experience and the memories, whatever those might be, and for me, Las Vegas was no different.
