vegas, baby

I drove to Vegas on Monday, another quick visit for a friend's recent birthday. There was picture making and happy hour cocktails. Steak dinners in an old school establishment boasting of long gone patrons that included crooners and mobsters.

Cigarette smoke hangs heavy in the air and so does regret. There is a palpable longing that lingers. The clanging of bells on the slot machines; the slow, rhythmic shuffle of the cards on the blackjack table. 

I'm fascinated with the place. For me, there has never been a more compelling venue for people watching, you have to trust me on this one. A myriad of emotions escape as the throngs flow by. Everyone seems drunk and they probably are. Staggering about, big drinks in hand, there are sexy-ish bartenders dancing on the bars with the loud piped in music that is the Fremont Experience and I wonder, ok marvel really, at its appeal. Clearly it's a draw, there are more people than you'd ever imagine taking photos of the strange folk and buskers along the way. 

There's an overriding ambiance, (and/or my very big imagination), that has me envisioning Vegas as one big Hollywood movie set. There's a reason people say, 'what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas' and I couldn't make that shit up if I tried.