My image of Vegas and the Strip has always been one of lights, money and girlsgirlsgirls. What I never realized was the degree to which those lights, money and girlsgirlsgirls have a cacophonous soundtrack. The only quiet place in this part of the city is my hotel room, and some large project involving thundering metal and cranes was going on outside my (41st floor) window last night, so even my room wasn't that quiet.
And not just the noise, the volume. I suppose the whole point is to keep people overstimulated and slightly disoriented so they keep opening their wallets all unthinking. And hooray for the diversity of experience.
In the past 18 hours since I arrived, I've had someone try to sell me mescaline and PCP, I've run into innumerable prostitution touts, I've had a drunk stagger into me then slap my arm for being in his way, I've seen a homeless guy (or at least a very grubby fellow with that outdoor tan) in full pirate drag including a noisy parrot, I've marveled at ceremonial architecture that will drive hundreds of doctoral degrees a thousand years from now, and I've discovered this place is never, ever quiet, not even at 4:30 am.
I'm glad Vegas is here for the people who want it. And I appreciate a well-designed money sieve, purely from a cultural engineering perspective. But this place...