Las Vegas is not my kind of town. At a time when I realize the value of authentic, simple moments I find myself in the land of fakery and grift. The irony does not escape me. I am here for an educational conference over the next few nights, and I fear that there is little else for me to do with my time. Let me be clear: I do not gamble, I do not chase dancing girls, and I can see the con a mile away. I see very little in Vegas for poor, little me.
Given the time of year, my digs in Vegas are The Palazzo, which has put me in a room far larger and better-appointed than my condo. The cost was more than reasonable compared to other places I have travelled in the USA of late, and I have to admit that the room is stellar. I am being treated very well by staff, and this is one of the nicer rooms I have procured in my many travels. Still, Vegas is not my town.
I arrived on at about 10pm, so by the time I made it to the hotel it was 11pm…but that is really 2am in Toronto. I was hungry, but I did not want to go off too far in search of food. Fortunately the hotel has multiple restaurants that function on even a late hour, so I was able to find a superb avocado chipotle burger and a Blue Moon for about $30. Probably one of my top three hamburgers of all time. Still, Vegas is not my town.
So what is my problem with Vegas. Nothing, really. It is clean, the food is good, the rooms are nice and the weather is far warmer than in the north. It is just…well…I like real things. I want real Venetian moats. I want the real Eiffel Tower. I want a real woman in real shoes with real legs and breasts. Vegas is the show, and while I like the show, I prefer the carnivale to the circus and Vegas is a circus. So while I will undoubtedly learn a few new tricks for my classroom, and I will hopefully find a few oddball activities to try out, I know that at the end of the day I prefer Paris, New Orleans, New York and even Egypt to the reasonable hand drawn facsimiles that now surround me tonight.