As everyone knows, ours is a fast-paced society. In a world of instant messaging and lightning-quick jets, busy vacationers looking to make the most of their time flock to the one place where they can experience Rome, Paris, New York, and Luxor in a single night: notorious Las Vegas, Nevada. With dizzying lights and hilarious faux architecture, the city is mind-numbing and superficially entertaining.
When imagining the heart of the city, most picture “the strip,” a grandiose four-mile section of Las Vegas Boulevard South that features dozens of themed hotels like the Venetian, the Imperial Palace, and the Sahara. Tourists with cameras are often seen shooting from car windows as drivers pass the lights and neon signs, eyes wide and mouths gaping.
To Las Vegas newcomers, the city is the ultimate get-more-for-your-buck experience. Where else, they ask, can one see Elvis Presley, the Eiffel Tower, Roman statues, and Egyptian pyramids in the span of 15 minutes? But to the discerning eye and seasoned Las Vegas frequenter – like me – Elvis is just a redhead with a beer belly, the tower is a pitiful replica, the statues are obviously painted plastic, and the pyramid is a big glass hoax.
The themed hotels make no attempt to capture the true essence of the locations they represent. The Luxor, for example, features mummies and pyramids, but where is the authentic Egyptian cuisine and indigenous music? Egyptian culture does not end at King Tut.
Though the City that Never Sleeps is, true to its nickname, wildly entertaining – each hotel offers decadent buffets and endless slot machines and arcade games – the cigarette haze eventually becomes stifling, the clinking of coins rings annoyingly in the ear, and the artificiality becomes mind-numbing.
To visitors looking to sip margaritas and play blackjack until dawn, Las Vegas is paradise. But to vacationers looking to experience cultural depth and history, Las Vegas – for all its hilarious grandeur and cultured airs – is a hopelessly bad gamble.
When imagining the heart of the city, most picture “the strip,” a grandiose four-mile section of Las Vegas Boulevard South that features dozens of themed hotels like the Venetian, the Imperial Palace, and the Sahara. Tourists with cameras are often seen shooting from car windows as drivers pass the lights and neon signs, eyes wide and mouths gaping.
To Las Vegas newcomers, the city is the ultimate get-more-for-your-buck experience. Where else, they ask, can one see Elvis Presley, the Eiffel Tower, Roman statues, and Egyptian pyramids in the span of 15 minutes? But to the discerning eye and seasoned Las Vegas frequenter – like me – Elvis is just a redhead with a beer belly, the tower is a pitiful replica, the statues are obviously painted plastic, and the pyramid is a big glass hoax.
The themed hotels make no attempt to capture the true essence of the locations they represent. The Luxor, for example, features mummies and pyramids, but where is the authentic Egyptian cuisine and indigenous music? Egyptian culture does not end at King Tut.
Though the City that Never Sleeps is, true to its nickname, wildly entertaining – each hotel offers decadent buffets and endless slot machines and arcade games – the cigarette haze eventually becomes stifling, the clinking of coins rings annoyingly in the ear, and the artificiality becomes mind-numbing.
To visitors looking to sip margaritas and play blackjack until dawn, Las Vegas is paradise. But to vacationers looking to experience cultural depth and history, Las Vegas – for all its hilarious grandeur and cultured airs – is a hopelessly bad gamble.
This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.
emily S.
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