My Week in Vegas
Vera Blossom, Neon Lights, & The Ninth Island
On my flight to Vegas, I finished reading How To Fuck Like A Girl by Vera Blossom. It’s a fine collection of essays from a writer who coincidentally moved from Vegas to Chicago. Towards the end of the book, in her essay Born Again, And Again, And Again, there’s this passage that I can’t stop thinking about because of the ennui it invokes.
“The world projects onto Las Vegas an idea of opulence and luxury, so it becomes true, the city is a place for indulging and gambling, sailing up through skyscrapers, and an endless meal at a buffet. But the city struggles against itself. There’s a version of Las Vegas that wants to be a shining, glamorous star, and there’s another version that crawls toward entropy, towards natural equilibrium, towards a slow life.” - Blossom, 149
When I landed, the first thing I noticed was the air. It was rich, and clear in a way Chicago could never be. If you ask more Chicagoans about the air pollution, and how they deal with it, they’ll likely look at you with a blank stare. City living requires you to endure and adapt so often, that at times the problems you’re avoiding become invisible.
Las Vegas is unapologetically car-centric, and has molded itself in the image of commerce. Walking to the store or out for lunch is simply unheard of, unless you’re in the strip or on Fremont Street, or one of the other tourist traps. I’d hope that the residential areas are far different, but judging from how many of my coworkers owned a car, I doubt that’s the case.
I work in tech, so most of my coworkers are male and/or white, so many of my non-work related conversations were simple to the point of almost being a stereotype: stock market this, coding that, hey isn’t Taylor Swift overrated.
Married men tend to be an exception. They’re a bit less aggressive, their sharp edges have been smoothed out by a wife or daughter. And they often think before they speak, conscious that their words reflect/impact not just them, but the community that relies on them. While this isn’t a universal truth, there are certainly trash husbands out there, the difference between manners and house training between a married man and a single one is stark. Like the difference between a family dog and a hyena.
None of this applies to black men though. Tech as an industry is as racist as it is sexist and in my seven years as an engineer I’ve never worked with a black engineer (man or woman). Ideally the streak ends soon, but I remain doubtful.
On day three, I ventured out to the strip with a few coworkers, and although my expectations were lower, they were still too high. Tourists were sparse, the massive hallways of the casino felt daunting, a bit haunted without the people to fill them. Workers looked bored, and desperate as they made eye contact with every person that passed by. When I talk to folks that live and work in Vegas, they often say that the city is in a slump, that things aren’t as good as they used to be. But ironically, when I talk to my family from Maine, or people who live in the burbs of Chicago, they say the same thing. So while Vegas may have been disproportionately impacted by our country’s decline, it is certainly not alone in its suffering.
During one of my Lyft rides back from breakfast one day I was picked up by a man with a “47” hat and an American flag on his sleeve. Years ago, I’d probably be more wary about being in the presence of a Trump supporter, but the conservative men in my family have worn down my fear into indifference. I wasn’t eager to start a conversation but this man was curious about me and my work so I told him a bit about what I did. It didn’t take long before the conversation somehow turned into “illegal immigrants getting free healthcare on the American dime”, which was odd because I neither talked about immigration nor healthcare. I tried to steer the conversation back from the Fox news talking point into what I viewed as the larger issue of affordability, and how no state in this country, red or blue, offers citizens free healthcare. But the man said he didn’t have health issues, and had no kids (reinforcing my aforementioned point) so why should he have to pay taxes for others. I briefly thanked him before checking out of my hotel.
The food in Vegas was probably one of the high points of the trip, especially Hawaiian food. I learned from some locals that Vegas has been called the “ninth-island” because of its large Hawaiian population. They tell me it’s because there used to be a highly attractive direct flight that went straight from Sin City to the islands, but I know enough about colonialism to know this isn’t entirely true.
There’s still so much of Vegas I haven’t seen. I didn’t see any museums, or wildlife, or learn much about its origins. I don’t know much about the city and where it’s been, but I’ve learned quite a bit about what it is; a prototypical American city. A city that exploits and abhors its immigrants. A city with poor infrastructure due to segregation. A city unlikely to change its ways until it has no choice. Vegas, as Vera Blossom says, is a city that tries to exude wealth and glamor, even as it crumbles toward entropy, toward sameness.