It is 106 degrees. It’s unbearable, but we’re all walking around pretending it’s okay. “It’s DRY heat,” we’re saying, while gallon after gallon of bottled water is washing through our pores. I didn’t expect Vegas to be a detoxing experience, and it’s not like my diet is encouraging that, but i can barely stay hydrated. If I had a turbine, I could fuel a small suburb.
I am stunned by Vegas. It is everything that is bad about America, with the volume turned all the way up. It would be wrong to say that everyone here is shallow and fat and consuming, but it certainly feels like that. Everywhere, there are girls with fake breasts in revealing tops and high heeled sandals. Everywhere, there are thuggish young men, swigging beer from cans or slurping giant margaritas through straws as they stroll the strip oggling the girls. Everywhere, there are overweight humans, feeding at the buffet, reminding me of nothing more than the scene in Spirited Away when the little girls parents turn in to pigs.
We walk around the Venetian and I am slackjawed with wonder at the Disneyland-ization of this gem. After Venice, we wander over to the Rome of Cesar’s Palace. I have a much needed 10 dollar cocktail and we watch the laser show at the fountains. I try not to ridicule the absurdity and poor implementation, I try for detactched bemusment, but I can’t muster the distance. Clearly, I need another 10 cocktail.
I am beginning to understand why everyone is drinkng on The Strip. It is not a luxury, it is a coping strategy for Vegas.
What in G_D’s name are YOU doing in Vegas?
Do the ambulances still park waiting for accidents like they did when I was there back in 1989?
One of the most exhilerating experiences I’ve ever had was to fly into Vegas, rent a car, and drive OUT of there, with the desert opening up in front of me and the Grand Canyon three hours ahead.