Sin City Motion
by Jake Diaz
Las Vegas is a monument to all of our sins. Although most major cities in the union were built on the backs of promises of stability and opportunity, Vegas was built on the ability to allow its patrons access to any excess they desire. The city, as it stands now, would not exist had the corrupt not built it--taking advantage of Nevada’s desperation to bring people into their state and money into their economy. As law enforcement around the country cracked down on illegal gambling rings, the city and state welcomed the mobsters who ran them with open arms.
Vegas is a monument to the flamboyant and eccentric. Entertainers such as Liberace and Elvis were given top billing in the earlier days of the city’s explosion. It soon became common for headliners here to earn more than one-hundred thousand dollars a week playing nightly shows. Howard Hughes, the founder of Hughes Aircraft who was known to be Obsessive-Compulsive, spent years in his suite at the Desert Inn, refusing to leave.
The city is now the largest growing city in the country, with Phoenix coming in a close second. With all of the concerns surrounding global warming, people still seem to flock to desert cities in droves. Walking up and down Las Vegas Boulevard on a summer afternoon reminds you that it is, in fact, a city in the middle of nothing. Barren, sandy desert would be the terrain had there not been hotels and casinos surrounding you. Flooding the summer streets in the middle of the day are thousands upon thousands of people. As you stroll past them, you hear each one of them complaining about how miserable the weather is in the middle of July, and how they vow that they will never go in the middle of summer again. They never fail to return the same time each year, failing to keep the vows they made twelve months earlier, and failing to realize that before they get in their car or on their flight to leave, they will swear the same things again.
The people on the street are a curious lot. Watching them act and interact when on the strip is a morbid interest of mine. It falls in line with other morbid interests I have, such as engineering disasters and aircraft accidents. With the thousands of conferences and seminars that take place on or near the strip, it is expected that you will encounter at least one wandering businessperson, well dressed, with a suit or pantsuit and a lanyard with their affiliation on it. They might be on the phone, discussing business with an associate, or taking some time out of their schedules to see the sights a bit with their colleagues, waiting for the next keynote speech or discussion session to begin.
More often, however, is the random visitor on vacation. The standard American visitor is dressed in the same clothes that you would expect them to be wearing on any given weekend at home: blue jeans; T-shirt, with the logo of their favorite sports team or clothing company; and a pair of sneakers, sandals, or flip-flops. No real concern is involved in the choice of wardrobe they have made for the day besides comfort level, depending on weather or personal taste.
These vacationers come in all shapes, sizes, and flavors. On occasion, you will see a couple who haven’t been dating for a long time. They are easy to spot, because the gentleman is usually overdressed for the occasion and weather, paying for everything that the lady on his arm wants. The more items he purchases for her, the lower the chances of the relationship lasting, but he doesn’t realize that yet. The lady is also overdressed for the situation, although it isn’t to impress her new beau. The skirt and high heels are there to make her feel she deserves everything he is purchasing.
Everyone, regardless of class or intent, ends up hemorrhaging their hard-earned dollars on the random, useless trinkets that pass for souvenirs. Pyramidal key chain flashlights that sell at the Luxor, swords and shields at the Excalibur, Eiffel towers from the Paris, marble busts from Caesar’s Palace, and my personal favorite, the T-shirt sitting at Fashion Place mall that states: “The Genital Herpes you got in Vegas will not stay in Vegas.”
When the sun and temperature drop, the atmosphere and attire change simultaneously. Everyone heads to their rooms to clean themselves up for whatever overpriced event they decided to attend. The adults dress up to justify the price of the tickets to the shows they paid “half price” for. (Though it’s obvious that the casinos that put the shows on still make a boatload of money off of these tickets, or else they wouldn’t honor them.) The twenty-something kids spend an hour dressing up to spend three hours in line to get into a nightclub that charges twenty dollars to get through the door, and another fifteen dollars for a drink. They must dress well, or the bouncers will refuse to let them past the door. They choose to dress nicely in hopes of being noticed by an attractive member of the opposite sex, or running into a celebrity. As soon as they brave the long wait, they get inside the clubs to realize that the places are usually too dark for anyone to see them, the music is too loud to talk to anyone, all the men want is sex, and all the women want is a free drink.
The city brings in people from around the world. Walking down the strip is a cultural experience in itself. Listen long enough, and you will hear German, French, Italian, Spanish, Chinese and Japanese. Their attire is a mixture between American culture and their own, seemingly wearing the same brands as Americans, but a little more colorful, a little more noticeable, and a little more or less stylish.
Las Vegas is reflection of our worst excesses. If you don’t believe that, all you have to do is walk down the strip or into the casinos. You will see rolling billboards, and fliers and magazines, advertising the availability of “hot girls,” delivered directly to your room, and alcohol by the yard, in containers shaped as the Statue of Liberty, the Eiffel Tower, as well as other forms. The appeal of the city, for many, is the ability to indulge in the excess--the chance to do things that they would not be able to do at home.
The city is made to lower our inhibitions, stretch our morality, and make all of us give into the desire for instant gratification. We are called in with promises that “Whatever happens in Vegas stays in Vegas” and “Open 24 hours.” Only here do people meet someone, fall for them, marry, and separate the next day.
What draws me here is not the potential for debauchery; it isn’t the alcohol, prostitutes, overpriced clubs and shows. What brings me back, again and again, is the release from responsibility, the lack of stress. The city makes me feel like a kid and an adult, all at once.