When I told people what city I was about to go see, everyone said I would hate it. Why was everyone so sure I wouldn’t like where we were going for my husband’s conference? The truth is that for a few years this city had been on my wish list of places to see in the US: Las Vegas, the place where everyone says that what happens there, stays there. I wanted to know its secrets. I wanted to see this city in real life since I had only seen it in movies.
But to be honest, by the time the trip was coming up, I was tired enough that if someone had canceled the trip, that would have been okay. Life has had some heaviness lately, and mostly I wanted to crawl into bed. Not only did I not feel like going anywhere, but packing takes me more than a few hours—sometimes a few days. This was one of those trips, especially since I needed to pack conference clothes and free-time clothes, all while keeping in mind the temperatures would range from 70 to 100.
But Vegas! We landed, and boom! there were slot machines in the airport and gigantic screens and music blaring before we had even gotten to baggage claim. I’m big, I’m bold, get ready for the ride, the introduction seemed to say.
Turns out if you want to forget about your own life for a few days, Vegas is not a bad destination. We focused on the conference at first, but finally on day three we took the Monorail to The Strip.
I. Loved. It.
Yes, I said it. I loved that first walk, when we went into Caesar’s Palace and strolled through the casino then made our way to the hallway of the Forum Shops with its artificial, late-afternoon and dusky ceiling lighting, transforming an indoor space into a seemingly outdoor space. I kept having to remind myself that we were inside, which was to be taken to a reality that only partially existed. Have you ever needed that? To be magically transported. I was, that evening.
I liked seeing the gondola rides in The Venetian, eating gelato in the plaza, standing before the ubiquitous Welcome to Las Vegas signs, and later watching the Fountains of Bellagio dance and dance, as if they were humans, choreographed like a chorus line. I even choked up they were so beautiful. The world was moving too fast on The Strip to spend time mulling, which I am prone to do. Maybe most of all, I liked the feeling I got in some of the resorts that hadn’t been updated enough to lose their 80s and 90s sense of style. They somehow brought back a little bit of my youth and the feelings I had then about possibility and hope.
One night we went to the Neon Museum, and the best moments there were when we stood in front of a spectacularly large sign that had been brought back to life—the letters and lighting rendered glorious again.
I don’t need to return to Vegas. Once was enough. But I am grateful for the moments it gave me: eating taquitos with my husband in the Sahara, sharing a milkshake at Johnny Rockets, riding beside him on the Monorail and seeing the new giant Sphere lock its eyeball gaze onto us as if to say, I see you, but are you looking? Life can be a long ride. Better not let it pass you by.
