I’ve recently returned from my first visit to that glittering gambling mecca in the desert—Las Vegas. Interesting city, this place where the seedy and the swank co-exist in improbable harmony.

My first vivid impression of Las Vegas came not upon arrival, but before I even departed the slightly more family friendly tourist destination that I call home. As I sat waiting to board my Friday evening flight, I observed a man whom I guessed to be in his early 40s, and who most reminded me of the type of character who acts self-important but probably isn’t, promenading back and forth around the gate area. Never leaving his side were two pleased-with-themselves women dolled up and decked out for a night on the town, one draped possessively on each arm. Their preening strut left no question that they were seeking to be noticed. This was a trio ready to gamble the night away, and they were ready to play in more ways than one, I suspect. Yep, I was definitely on my way to Sin City.

I arrived at my hotel after midnight and, feeling the effects of the three-hour time difference, did what many first-timers likely do not—I went straight to bed. The next morning, however, I had some time to kill before the start of the conference that had finally brought me to this hedonistic metropolis, so I did what one is supposed to do in such circumstances. I headed for heart of the action. The Las Vegas Strip.

Because my hotel was within sight of the strip, I decided to enjoy a leisurely late morning stroll. (Note to self: Walking distances are much further than they appear when you’re in the middle of the desert in July and didn’t think to pack a pair of shorts because it was a business trip.) Along the route, I began to gain an understanding of why this is called "Sin City." In the locations where one would normally expect to see newspaper stands, I passed stand after stand of circulars advertising the lascivious side of Las Vegas, showing off scantily dressed women with strategically placed black boxes where necessary. These were so prevalent that I was left wondering how anyone could in good conscience raise a family there. Then again, maybe it was just my part of town. I later discovered from a taxi driver that only a block or two in the opposite direction was where crack addicts hang out, and where it was unsafe to walk after dark. Yikes!

The strip itself was a completely different experience from the hike to get there. The fabulous hotels that you always hear about are just as fabulous as they say. I visited the Wynn, the Venetian, and the Bellagio before the clock dictated that work obligations were at hand. These resorts and the others like them are destinations unto themselves, filled with beautiful scenery, sophisticated décor, upscale restaurants, high-end boutiques, and legendary shows and attractions, some of which I would very much like to see. The glitz and glamour was highly advertised, splashed on every billboard and banner. Opportunities to spend large sums of money abound before you ever even step foot in a casino. Yet despite the prominent advertising, it’s not all high fashion and expensive entertainment and haute cuisine. During the daytime, these high-ticket "locales within a locale" were largely empty, except for the average tourist joes like me who were merely sightseeing. I imagine the high rollers mostly come out at night.

I also had the opportunity to be on the strip one evening after dinner, which was truly an assault on the senses. Bright lights, loud music, flashy clothes, and people everywhere. For someone like me who likes to people-watch, it was a bonanza. My dinner companions and I played a guessing game of "real date or hired escort" for various couples we observed in the bar where we were situated, and I definitely saw more than one cross-dresser—a sight fairly uncommon here in Mickey’s backyard. I had expected to see more of the melancholy "down on your luck" types trying sadly to hit it big and change their fortunes, but mostly what I saw was people from all walks of life just having a good time, regardless of whether they were winning or losing.

Through it all, I never parted with a cent to the casinos. Not that I’m not opposed to spending a few dollars as entertainment, but I found it just as entertaining to watch everything else going on around me. And to tell the truth, I was a bit disappointed to not hear the clanging of coins signifying winners’ good luck in the slot machines. Unlike the cruise ship casinos I’ve been in, cashing out is done via paper tickets. And pushing a button instead of pulling a handle? Where is the fun in that?  

Another quirky thing I noticed about Las Vegas is that any advertising which wasn’t for entertainment or shopping or pursuits of the more risqué variety, was for energy drinks. This stuff was everywhere, no doubt positioned to keep visitors awake and spending their money. I did part with some cash of my own in the end, but not because of shopping or gambling or energy drinks.  Instead, I opted to take in the splendor of one of God’s natural wonders. With an afternoon to spare before my red-eye flight home, I splurged on a helicopter tour to the Grand Canyon. It’s something I’ve always wanted to do, and it was worth every penny. I only wish I had had more time to reflect on the awesomeness of what I was seeing. Maybe next time, I will.

Oh, and the conference that brought me to Vegas in the first place? Highly productive and motivational in more ways than one. That’s a definite subject for another blog post.