It feels beyond surreal to be immerse myself into the madness of Las Vegas after a year in the bush of Alaska. 107 degrees of scorching heat are simply intolerable. Even walking by the entrances of the casinos delivers a welcome breeze of cool air oozing out of the air-conditioned palaces of game and glitter.
Hordes of women in super short, and breathtakingly tight dresses (ed. leaving it open whose breath they are taking away), and men from chic to shabby parade the Strip, chasing their dreams. Weird plastic containers in the shape of a water pipe filled with gallons of a cold drink seem to be en vogue. Wearing black is still fashionable, despite the heat. Then there are street performers fully dressed as spiderman, the hulk, Kiss and robots. And some dancers, lesser dressed, who have their picture taken with tourists. It’s a zoo.
Flashing billboards and other light effects turn the night into an outdoor spectacle. Loud music is drowned by a dozen of Ferraris roaring down the Strip.
My biggest adventure that night was that I lost my car. Couldn’t find it to save my life. I thought I returned to the parking structure where I had left it, to no avail. A security guard on a mountain bike scanned the building after I had searched for an hour, walking miles and miles in a smelly parking structure. After that I got a ride with another security officer, checking every floor. No luck. They hadn’t towed a car on a long time, maybe stolen? Well a long 3 hour story short. I retraced my steps as well as I could, which isn’t that simple in Vegas, and finally found, exactly where I had left it. Uff. I didn’t get lost in the Alaskan wilderness in a year. In Vegas, I was lost within a day…