What Happens in Vegas Part 1

 

I’m not a Vegas sort of person. I went for the Erotic Authors Association Conference, not for the gambling, not for the bright lights. I wasn’t there to be impressed. And yet…

We flew over the Sierra Nevada Mountains just before we landed in Las Vegas.  We all crane our necks for a look at impossibly jagged peaks already covered with snow, even as we were about to land in 97 degree temperatures. But on the ground, it was desert heat and more shades of brown and tan and olive than I would have thought possible, all set off in stunning relief against a baby blue sky puffed with clouds that were clearly only there for looks rather than business. Very appropriate for Vegas.

The woman behind me on the shuttle talked loudly on her cell phone in a Midwestern accent to whoever was taking care of her geriatric dog back home. When the conversation finally ended with her satisfied that the pooch was in good hands, we all turned our attention to the shuttle driver, a man who was a driving history book of Las Vegas. While he delivered us to our respective hotels, he regaled us with stories of Bugsy Segal and the mob history of Las Vegas. The Flamingo is the original resort hotel that Bugsy Segal built in the middle of the desert.

My room was on the 14th floor, with views of the mountains in between the towers of Bally’s and Paris Las Vegas. Once I got settled, I explored the hotel grounds, lingering in the gardens to see the habitat for flamingos, sacred ibis, and black swans. I was planning to meet Sharazade for dinner, but I’d gotten a message from her saying she’s coming in on a later flight, so I decided to check out The Strip on my own.

Las Vegas is in your face, like an arid version of New Orleans on steroids and all tarted up with neon and fountains. It’s like Disneyland for adults, Sharazade observed, when we finally connect the next day. Just as it was getting dark I wandered about with my mouth open and my eyes bugging because there was so much to see. I’ve been to Paris, so Paris Las Vegas shouldn’t impress me, but when it rises up all truncated and neon in the middle of the desert it does. I realized as I walked amid the tourists who are as bug-eyed as I am that though I’m hearing lots of different languages, a lot of the people who are here will never get any closer to Paris or Venice or the Forum in Rome than Las Vegas, and the tarted-up versions can’t fail to impress.

As I stopped to watch the volcano erupt in front of Treasure Island, along with the rest of the enthralled crowd, I realize that as much as I’d like to stick my nose in the air and be unimpressed, the spirit of the place is contagious, and it would be really hard to walk among the holiday makers and the lovers there to elope and the neon and the noise and the resorts that are several city blocks in size and not get caught up in the atmosphere.

I ended up shivering in an overly air conditioned food court having Mexican food, my first since arriving in the US. I ate and people-watched. The city was awash in spandex and suicide stilettos, and I find that, in spite of myself, I was loving every minute of it.

Outside again, I was happy to leave the air conditioning and get warm. It was a dry delicious 87 degrees, and that alone, after leaving the rainy damp of south England, was enough to make me feel festive. I walked along stopping here and there to watch people and take in the giddy gaudiness of it all. In some places Hispanic men and women lined the streets handing out cards for peep shows and escort services, and I squirmed at the contrast of people working a hard, uncomfortable job in order to put food on the table while they watch a party going on all around them in which they never get to participate.

I watched the incredible dancing fountains in front of the Bologgio amid the crowd and press of others doing the same, and I wandered along the street where tourists were having their pictures taken with Elvis impersonators and show girls decked out in brightly coloured feathers. A man who had too much to drink was propositioning every woman who walked by. I found myself lost and turned around in the maze of stylized bridges that crisscross the heavily trafficked street that runs through the strip. The bridges cross into resorts and come down alongside towers of glass and flashing lights opening onto the streets like gaping mouths exhaling the overly air conditioned breath of the casinos into the warm the night.

 I was caught up and carried along on a wave of sensory overload that smelled of restaurants and cigarette smoke and perfume and sweaty bodies and excitement; and looked like a city all dressed up for a costume ball. I let it all settle around me and flow through me until the heat and the noise and the jet lag of too many time zones passed through too quickly began to take a toll. Sharazade still hadn’t arrived, and I was fading fast. I made my way back to the Flamingo through the sparkle and the kaching of the slots to the elevator banks. I managed to make it back to the room and whip of an email to Sharazade that I’d see her in the morning. Then I slept.

I woke in the night and looked out at the dazzle of the lights from the 14th floor and I drift back to sleep with after images of the rich blue lights of the towers of the Cosmopolitan fading behind my eyelids. The next time I woke up, the mountains between the towers of the casinos were just blushing pink, and I was struck by the contrast of the rugged wilderness, jagged and overwhelming held at bay by towers of glass and steel and lights. Even Las Vegas seems small and demure next to such vastness.

As I looked over the schedule for the first day of the Erotic Authors Association conference, the butterflies woke up in my stomach. When I thought about the day ahead, the introvert in my cowered for a second, wanting to run away to the mountains beyond. But this would be the day I got to be on my first panel ever, and this would be the day I got to read from Holly in front of a new audience, and this would be the day I got to meet the people who I already knew would be my friends, the fabulous smutters on the US side of the pond. It would be good. I knew it would.

Stay tuned for the next installment of What Happens in Vegas.

 

12 Responses to “What Happens in Vegas Part 1”

  1. It was great to have you in our city! I love it when even the tourists see Las Vegas for what it is – an adult playground that is purposely over-the-top. Glad you had a good time!

     
    • Your city was lovely, Siobhan, as it’s people — especially the ones who write Erotica! I had a fantastic time! And I can already hardly wait till next year!
      KDx

       
      • K D Grace
  2. I’m so glad I got to explore Las Vegas (well, some of it, anyway) and the conference with you! What a good time that was.

     
    • It was an amazing time, and it was great to get to know you in person at last, Shar!

      Kx

       
      • K D Grace
  3. I love your description of Las Vegas. It’s one of my favorite places, though I do understand those that don’t feel oriented toward it. 🙂 I related a lot to how you described it, though I always felt the easy tendency to love it! I do, however, appreciate your note of this:

    “I squirmed at the contrast of people working a hard, uncomfortable job in order to put food on the table while they watch a party going on all around them in which they never get to participate.”

    I too have observed and experienced this disheartening juxtaposition as well and have found it especially poignant in Las Vegas.

    I look forward to reading more of your account! 🙂 It was such a delight to meet you in person.

    Xoxo,
    Em

     
    • Emerald
    • Thanks Em!

      It was a fantastic experience, and though I tend to be an outdoors in the woods type person, my Las Vegas experience hit all the right buttons and the right time. It truly was amazing, and especially because I met so many lovely, fabulous writerly folks — yourself included! I’m dying to read more of your work! And I’m so glad we finally got to know each other in person!

      KDx

       
      • K D Grace
  4. What a great evocation of the madness and strangeness that is Las Vegas! I too describe it as Disneyland — the dark underside of Disney where instead of bringing out the child in everyone, it brings out the drunken teenager hellbent on experiencing everything forbidden. In that way it is like New Orleans, but in a much more manufactured way.

    I can’t say I like Las Vegas exactly, but it is top notch people watching, and as a writer, that’s something to treasure.

    Your reading was fabulous and it was wonderful to meet you. I hope we’ll cross paths again!

     
    • Thanks Cecilia!

      You made my morning! I’m much more an outdoorsy person than a neon and city person, but the contrast and the people watching were just what this writer needed.

      It was lovely to finally meet you in person AND to get to hear you read too! I wish there had been more time to chat. And I too hope our paths cross again soon.

      K Dx

       
      • K D Grace
  5. That’s quite a picture you paint honey- bring on part2!! Love to Shar and Hazel xx

     
    • Thanks, Kay!

      Part two will be out by the weekend. Kx

       
      • K D Grace
    • Next time we need you there!

       
      • Shar
© 2017 K D Grace
The Romance Reviews

Site created and maintained by Writer Marketing Services | Sitemap
Social media & sharing icons powered by UltimatelySocial