Swede and I went to Vegas recently for a friend’s wedding. (Sidenote, I now have two—count ‘em TWO—weddings underneath my officiant belt. And yes, I am available for hire.) I hadn’t been to Vegas in close to 10 years, and to give you and idea of just how long that is in Vegas Time, the last time I was there the Wynn was just being built, I stayed at the Sahara, and none of Hugh Hefner’s ex-girlfriends had cameras following them as they tramped around and/or hosted their own peep shows.
I’ll be the first to tell that I don’t travel as much as I wish I did, but traveling to Vegas is an exercise in throwing everything you know and come to expect about travel out the window. And I’m not sure if I mean that in a good or bad way.
That in mind, Dear Las Vegas:
- I know you are the preeminent nickel and diming town, but please. Stop charging people for Internet access in the hotels. That’s just ridiculous. There’s a thing. It’s called free wifi. Look into it.
- Same thing for the hotel gyms. Also, Paris Resort and Casino, $25 per day to use your so-so gym? Are you joking? You’re joking. Wait, you’re not joking. Crimony.
- While your casinos can be intimidating, particularly if you don’t really remember how to roll craps, I find that a lot of your dealers are incredibly helpful in giving you tips and instructions on how to play properly. Which makes sense, because the more you know, the longer you’ll play. But to the opposite end, it’s surprising how many of those working the tables are so lacking in personality. Can I get a smile? Some small talk? Anything? I promise I’ll stop making Ocean’s 11 references.
- Eventually you don’t even blink at having to peel playing-card size advertisements for nudie-tudie women off the bottom of your shoes. I was not expecting that.
When we meet again, Vegas, I am sure you will have changed much. You always do. But I expect your lights will still burn bright, the dancing girls will look just as exotic, and I will still not understand how or when to double down.