I am not a fan of Las Vegas. I passed through it a few years ago and was, well, unimpressed. The Strip struck me as oddly artificial, like a simulacrum of a city like New York. A recreation in a controlled environment without the perceived dangers of a real city, where a visitor doesn’t need to worry about businesses that don’t cater to them and are surrounded by familiar chain restaurants and brands. It is Disneyland but for adults; a theme park with safe thrills — and strip clubs and casinos. Vegas is a city only skin-deep.
It was only while passing through it this weekend on my way to the Grand Canyon that I finally decided to actually look up the city on the last good website. It turns out that the famous Las Vegas Strip isn’t even technically in Las Vegas proper, but rather a chunk abutting the city limits. There’s a whole downtown and metropolitan area beyond the Strip.
Which makes sense, so much sense that I can’t believe I didn’t clock it earlier. Of course there’s more than the Strip, of course the entire population doesn’t revolve around the Strip, no more than all of New York revolves around Times Square. My harsh snap judgement would have been like writing off Singapore based on Sentosa or Orlando on Disney World.
The Las Vegas Strip, though, remains its own oddity. It still feels hollow and artificial, but perhaps there is a measure of performativity to it all. Las Vegas was a city that rose on permissive laws (amusingly, Wikipedia cites both Nevada legalizing gambling and reducing the residency requirement for divorce to six months as being pivotal for the city) and so it trades on that reputation. The Vegas wedding still occupies part of the American psyche, even as courthouse weddings have become more common across the United States. Sports betting is commonplace and most American states have casinos, but there’s still the allure of Caesar’s Palace and the Bellagio. The myth of Las Vegas is strong and so the Strip strives to fulfill a tourists’s image of itself and thus the myth perpetuates. The Strip abides.
A cursory search tells me that residents of the city proper don’t exactly frequent the Strip, having a similar attitude towards it as most New Yorkers do towards Times Square. But as I would berate any tourist who didn’t venture beyond 42nd and Broadway, I feel like my own read of Las Vegas has been unfair, born out of a too-ready dismissiveness. On my way back on Monday, maybe I’ll drive through the city proper and see if I can get a glimpse of what’s beneath the neon surface. More likely than not, I’ll just grab a cup of coffee and a quick meal while driving through. Nonetheless, it serves as a much-needed reminder that behind every tourist trap are real people, a community trying their best. The allure of Sin City may be performative, but there is something beneath it. Maybe I’ll like the actual city of Las Vegas, maybe I won’t, but it’s unfair of me to say I’m not a fan of Las Vegas when all I know is the Strip. I do not like the Las Vegas Strip, but the city itself remains an open question.
Essays, Not Rants! 