Apologies to those who love Vegas, because I know you're out there, but I can't understand what you love about it. I found it the fakest, least-pleasing place I've ever vacationed at. To me, there's nothing enchanting about a "fake" Paris that purports to harken to the real one. If I want Paris, I'm going to Paris. Caesar's Palace was cloying for the same reasons--it's not as if the Roman ruins in the actual Rome are gleaming white; no sort of clever decoration or paint technique can equal the actual wear and tear of time on ancient buildings. It's fake, I know it's fake, and I don't understand why I would like this fakeness.
This may seem like some sort of disgusting elitism, simply because there are plenty of people who can afford Vegas but not Paris, or Rome. But Vegas is so crass that I feel like people would be better off never seeing Paris (in France) than thinking that the Vegas hotel is some sort of substitute for the real thing. It's just patently not. The whole thing--the glitz, the falseness, the superficiality--left me slightly uneasy. Vegas is about playing pretend, and I guess some people love to do it. I just find it difficult, and trying. I don't want to pretend that we don't need to worry about conservation (Vegas could get rid of HALF its lightbulbs and it would still light up the desert) or what a bad thing drinking and gambling to excess are. I don't want to pretend that the greed manifested EVERYWHERE in Vegas isn't ugly, because it is. I've never been to an airport that was more of an advertisement than the one in Vegas, and I've never felt so crushingly defeated upon arrival at an airport (though, in the interests of full disclosure, we arrived LATE/EARLY at McCarran, at 3:30 am our time, 1:30 Vegas time, and didn't actually get into bed at the Bellagio until 3, Vegas time.).
People, when I said these things to them this weekend, were quick to point out the good things about Vegas--the shows, the food--but those "good" things are SO damn expensive. If I have enough money to pay for a nice room, shows, and good, expensive food, I might as well stretch that money to take me to New York, or San Francisco, or London, Paris, Rome, Barcelona, etc. I can't imagine giving up the real deal for a few days in fake paradise. It seems like an awful trade-off to me.
And you know, I don't like to drink (though I somehow ended up VERY drunk at my dad's wedding), and I really don't find gambling fun, so I'm not necessarily the ideal Vegas person. Some of my relations stayed up until 5, 6, 7 in the morning a few nights, and that to me seems like the dumbest and most un-fun thing ever. I'd feel like shit if I did that even once. Maybe this seems curmudgeonly, or old-ladyish, but oh well. I like my vacations to take place during the daylight hours, I guess.
Maybe it seems like I didn't like any of the vacation, and that's not true. I really did eat amazing meals in Vegas. The wedding dinner was delicious, and leaves every other wedding dinner I've ever had lacking greatly. (Though, with only 44 guests, it's slightly easier to make very good food. You know, as opposed to those gigantic, 150-person extravaganzas.) The hotels all have their moments of beauty, where instead of seeming fake, they just seem lovely. The room was outstanding; the customer service is incredible. My spa services, on Sunday morning, were perfection. Simply the best spa experiences I've ever enjoyed. (Though I suspect that part of the reason for this is the cost of them; I've never before stayed in such an expensive hotel [okay, once before, and it was just as amazing, in New York City. The Alex. Amazing.], or gone to such an upscale spa. I suspect I could say those things about anywhere you spend those big chunks of money.) We saw a show--Ray Romano--and he was funny. I suspect that I would ADORE the new Cirque show, Beatles LOVE, and I will admit that I'm considering going back, just to see it.
So yes. Individual experiences were nice. But Vegas, collectively, is disturbing and I feel guilty spending any more money there. I might, but I'm doing it with the awareness that I don't feel any sort of passion for the place, and there will be a sense of squandered travel if I do go back. (Damn Beatles LOVE! Making me want to come see it.)
Anyway, I'm hungover, tired and starting to stress mightily about the move, so I'm going to go lay listlessly on the couch and drink gallons of water. But yeah, that's Vegas. I'm glad to be home.
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