Las Vegas: City at the End of the World

Fountains of Bellagio -- spoilt by patriotic soft rock
I have a thesis about Vegas. It's not startingly original, I'm sure. But it's there nevertheless. My thesis? The rise of a city like Vegas marks the end of a civilisation.

Every aspect of Vegas is absurd, and it's only a matter of time before the contradictions at its heart send it -- and probably 21st Century civilisation -- back into the Dark Ages. Let's look at the evidence.

Lions Habitat, MGM -- don't you wish the glass would break?
One: Sin City, the entertainment capital of, not just the States, but the world, is in the middle of the bleedin' desert. Now if that's not the most epic example of suicidal tendencies, I don't know what is. Places of entertainment need copious amounts of power and water to satisfy their guests -- vacation's the time to indulge, right? Already, brown outs are a common phenomenon in Las Vegas, and with the expected growth that's only going to get worse.

Two: Vegas is growing. Walking down the Strip -- not an activity to be taken likely due to its ten mile length and hundred degree temps -- there are at least two new super hotels being built: Donald Trump is getting in on the action with the innovatively titled "Trump Hotel" -- a gold leafed affair offering condos for the very well-to-do; and whoever Wynn is, they're building an identical hotel to their first which looks like it'll be called "Encore" which doesn't sound half as good in English. Personally, I think there's some reinforcing feedback loop at work here. Each hotel begets more guests which begets more hotels which begets more guests and so on. People come here to say they've been to the world's biggest hotel/casino or highest rollercoaster which makes even more people want to come. Only some cataclysmic event will stop this loop -- something like peak oil, or global warming making living a desert untenable.

Three: To me, gambling represents the insane side to humanity. To see so many faces enthralled by the glittering lights and repetitive sounds of the roulette wheel, or the croupier's deal, or the spinning reels is scary. It's like a switch-off for the brain. Let me concentrate on this little world that I have little control of, and then I don't have to think anymore. I don't think people gamble to win money -- deep down everyone knows the odds are stacked in the house's favour. I think people gamble because they want to fantasise with the idea of winning and what they would do, safe in the knowledge it won't happen. It's a means of not living. Pretending that if the roulette ball lands on the red four then my life will change, without taking the real steps to make it change. And the more people gambling in our society, the more people sitting on the fence. Waiting for the calamity . . .

Oh no, trekkies in town!
Four: And this ones tenuous, but gives more flavour of the place. Many of the hotels have a theme. The Riveria evokes the earlier, ritzy days of the city. The Venetian brings in Venice with ridiculous gondaleers punting beneath statued pillars. The Luxor, ancient Egypt. The Excaliber, the era of Knights. And so on. All this is a means of providing a time capsule when the sands that have buried the city are dug back by future archaelogists. Have everything in one place so that nothing gets forgotton.

It's just like being in Venice . . .
I gotta say, I didn't really get into the Vegas vibe. I observed, but didn't really participate. Maybe that was more to do with me than the place. I thought about playing some poker, or pulling some one-arm bandits, but I couldn't shake off the feeling that I'd just be going through the motions if I did. Poker players seemed to be predominantly older men who smelt of stale smoke and dressed badly. The slot machine addicts seemed to be mainly women with sagging eyes and defeated looks. Maybe I shoulda played dice. The few people I chatted with weren't interested in me, and I didn't even get the opportunity to pretend to be a european banker who'd just lost a few hundred thou on the floor -- I guess my clothes gave me away. Perhaps I'd have got more involved if I gone with a crowd I already knew.

Anyway, we're staring into the abyss, people! Get ready for the Fall of Rome, The Sequel!

Michael and I