Vegas, baby! Vegas!
Hours of driving through a sun-baked desert, but this is my exit.
I am so money.
Hmmm. I have to say, Vegas doesn't look like I remember it. What's with all the adobe? The empty storefronts? The ample on-street parking?
Can anyone tell me where the Bellagio is?
Judging from all the turquoise and the absence of high-roller asshole types, I may have miscalculated. And I'm okay with that.
I grab lunch at a great little Mexican cafe and then walk up to the street fair filling up the central plaza. There's a small crowd dancing to a tejano band's spanglish version of Mustang Sally. There's not a slot machine or an Elvis impersonator or anybody singing "My Way" within a hundred miles.
And I'm okay with that, too.
Viva Las Vegas. At least this one.