I'll Always Remember That I Had A Swingin' Time

What happens in Vegas...must not happen to me.

My husband and I headed to the so-called Sin City last Thursday to have a weekend of fun and attend the wedding of a couple of his old friends. Neither of us had been to Las Vegas before, so we were looking forward to seeing what it was all about. We'd heard a lot about the bright lights of Vegas, the glitter, the tacky overdone-ness of it all. And we were looking forward to being a part of it, or at least observing it.

It wasn't to be quite what I expected.

I got my first clue as soon as I boarded the plane in Chicago. Stepping into the cabin to find my seat, I flashed immediately to a Sex and the City episode in which Carrie and Miranda take a bus to Atlantic City with a bunch of old ladies. The first ten rows of the plane were packed full of senior citizens.

That's strange, I thought. These are the people you see at the casinos in Indiana and Joliet. Why do they need to go all the way to Nevada to gamble their money away? Isn't Las Vegas a little too happening for the seniors?

Short answer: Nope.

I guess I thought of Las Vegas as the place I'd seen in the movies, a city where winning too much too fast will get you busted kneecaps, where you could practically get a prostitute through a drive-up window -- where they wouldn't let you leave before you'd done something completely out of character.

The Vegas I found was quite different. It was touristy. It was tame. It was Disney World with slot machines and booze. The craziest things I did were drink a $13.50 martini and watch TV in the bathroom of our hotel room. (Side note: There was no remote for that TV. I don't get that. I mean, if you're just doing your hair or something, fine, but otherwise, wouldn't a remote be a necessity for a bathroom television?)

The casinos were full of the same old people I'd seen on the plane. (Now I know why the Viagra folks went with a jingle that played on "Viva Las Vegas.") There were tons of parents pushing strollers up and down the strip. There was a Gap, for cryin' out loud.

That's not to say there weren't a few smarmy elements. In the cab to our hotel, I picked up a travel guide which included a $10 off coupon to a show called Bite, which, from what I gather, is some sort of porno vampire rock opera. There were scantily clad girls dancing on gaming tables in one casino. And there were guys on the street wearing tee shirts that said something like, "Girls Direct To You, Fast" and handing out cards with pictures of nearly naked women on them. But they were more of a curiosity than anything. I wondered about their tactics, standing shoulder-to-shoulder in groups of about 10, slapping the cards on their wrists and waving them in people's faces. I openly mocked them every time we went by one of their groups, but the only time they didn't persist in trying to get me a live girl was when they saw me walking down the street with a Starbucks.

Despite the lack of obscene and over-the-top craziness, I had a good time in Vegas. I gambled (and lost, but that's to be expected), oohed and aahed over the decor of the various hotels and considered purchasing a light-up sign that spells out Elvis. I even got to experience one of those famous casino buffets, the only place in Vegas where you'll truly get your money's worth. And, of course, I witnessed a Vegas wedding.

They say that Vegas is a place people either love or hate, with no in-between. I wouldn't say that's true. I had a great time, and I'd like to go back, but I wouldn't say I'm in any huge hurry to do so. I think for my next trip, I'll head to Orlando. I hear it's pretty seedy there.