Dirty Vegas - one more from the archive

This is from June 2019, after a few days in Las Vegas during an otherwise fabulous trip to the USA

Ok, I should say at the outset that Las Vegas is not somewhere I’d ever have chosen to go of my own volition. Two things, however, persuaded me to give it a go. First, my lovely wife declared she wanted to spend her Special Birthday there. Much as I love her, even that wouldn’t have been enough usually. But several friends and work colleagues whose opinions I respect used so many superlatives about the place that I thought 'what the hell'.

Now, as with the rest of the trip, we packed a lot in. A night show, a day and night on the Strip, a full day at the Grand Canyon (which is exempt from everything that follows), the Fremont Street experience - zip wire, Heart Attack Grill, various freaky street performers, etc. - and a helicopter flight round the city. Now, the activities themselves were fun - the helicopter, the KISS Crazy Golf, Raiding the Rock Vault, and so on. But as for the rest of it - oh my God, I found it truly hateful.

First, the casinos. Dark, confusing, noisy, poorly lit, cigarette smoke palls everywhere (indoor smoking still being legal here). As for the people, I’ll come to them. But the environment - just disgusting. Quite why any non-avid gamblers would choose to spend time there is a mystery to me. 

Next, the punters. I saw three main groups. First, the actual punters in the casinos. For the most part, these were sad, pallid, alternately obese or hollow-eyed addict types. I’d be happy to bet their average life expectancy doesn’t exceed that of Somalia. Second, the visitors, those spending their days doing the strip. Aside from the relatively normal overseas tourists, there were fat girls in barely-there bikini tops holding foot-long daiquiris; redneck groups of good ol’ boys, barely able to stand after drinking too many giant size beer cans; families with small kids that just left me thinking ‘why?!’. Third, the hustlers - the topless cowboys, the virtually-topless Mardi Gras girls and the cartoon characters all vying to get their picture taken with you and lift $20 from your wallet as a result. Oh, and the oriental grannies handing out cards for escort girls; bizarre.

And then the crowds and design of the Strip. Admittedly we were there on a public holiday weekend, so the numbers were probably swelled. But the walkways round the hotels, the sheer volume of bodies, and the vast width of the road itself just meant getting anywhere was a nightmare. A hotel that looked within touching distance from the hotel window turned out to be a half hour walk, or shuffle rather. 

Talking of hotels, they’re expensive, impersonal, crowded and designed to wring every last dollar from you. It’s a transparent business model, designed to maximise short value even if it leaves guests pissed off, knowing that when you leave town there’ll be another mug along shortly to take your place.

It was at least relatively cool on our full day on the Strip. It must be an even worse version of hell on a typical hot day in Vegas. But that was the only redeeming feature of our daytimes there, other than the specific activities. I wasn’t a fan, as you might be able to tell. It’s full of people having what they think is fun, but in reality is sordid, the most expensive kind of cheap possible, pointlessly hedonistic and spiritually valueless. I won’t be going back. Other opinions are available of course; you might love it...but I don’t recommend it. Go see one of the other parts of the US that can truly justify a transatlantic trip; a great city, the Appalachians, the Deep South, whatever, but not Vegas, baby.