Vegas is weird. It reminds me of those fish that lure little fish into their mouths with the shiny light. It’s hot, flat, and unchanging in texture in the residential areas, full of malls and condos, with a hostility in the local populace that comes from living in a place based on greed and avarice. The whole gambling lifestyle I find creepy (particularly the way it pervades all of Nevada, in the lowliest convenience stores and the bus stations, and the way all the poor people flock here to try to strike it rich). It’s pretty much everything I don’t like about American culture, all in one place, which makes it amazing and horrific all at the same time.
Given the position I’m in (a Californian from a bohemian-lifestyle family who married an Englishman), it should be a real study in sociology; but somehow, with Trump looming over the presidency, it feels a little apocalyptic. With all the awfulness going on in the country right now, I can’t help but notice how unsustainable it all is: the electricity, the water, the bad processed food and huge quantities of factory-farmed meat, the fact that no one seems to notice any of this but goes heedlessly on into the hedonism of it without a qualm. It feels a little end-of-days, like the last years of Rome: bread and circuses.
That said, the Strip is amazing, and the sheer glitz of the endless acres of gambling machines in each hotel is mind-boggling. It’s an amazing show, even if it’s not my cup of tea. Everyone should see it once, if only as an object lesson, I suppose!
Also, it’s pretty great to go out to breakfast and see people in Starfleet uniforms and Klingon outfits at the tables around you, eating eggs and bacon.