Las Vegas and I have an uneasy relationship, not that she even notices. For some reason, I’m not able to get through a casino, or restaurant, or shop, or anything without thinking about how all of this was built.
I don’t trust her. She’s heavy on the make up with lots of flash. Everything’s artificial with her come hither looks and phony smile. In the morning, she smells of last night’s whiskey. She’s ready to take every dollar out of my pocket without the least bit of shame, those same dollars that feed my family and pay the bills. In the morning, she feels like last night’s whore.
The ding, ding, ding and the hoorays and the noise and the skanky shorts and the bright lights and the assault on every sense I have make my skin crawl. Instead of getting excited, I withdraw.
Today, I drove past a $9 billion development. That’s right, billion. It’s big. It’s ugly. It’s overbearing. It blocks the sun today and will create its own with lights blinking everywhere. And, it’s being built with money from people like you and me.
You see, they don’t make anything in Las Vegas. There is no industry making cars or furniture or dresses or air conditioners or anything. They make money, like those robber barons on Wall Street.
In a world where a dollar investment returns $.97 every time; It isn’t a game of chance. It’s a game of loss. How do you build anything with the intent of making losers of your customers? It’s a bad model. I guess that’s what they mean when they say what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, like your money.
We’ve glorified her. We’ve winked at her. Like a rattlesnake, we can play with her for a little time. But, eventually she is a snake and she will bite with a venom that is unforgiving.