Gonna Give Big Daddy the Ol' Rain Man Sweep...

I was originally going to do a Wine of the Week post here, but I'm just home from a 4-day trip to Vegas. Which would you rather hear about. Yup, thought so.

So: what to do about Vegas?

It's the fastest-growing city in America, by some measures; everywhere you look there's construction. It's dedicated to the notion that anything, absolutely anything can be bought - a sort of "capitalists gone wild" atmosphere. It preys on everyone's addictions - gambling, sure, but also sex, alcohol, gluttony, and luxury. At times, it feels like the most depressing place on Earth - laden with bored-looking Hispanic guys handing out flyers for hookers, retirees slowly pumping their Social Security into machines of every stripe, and plastic guys 'n' girls laden with hair gel, spray tan, and unburdened by any apparent brains whatsoever. I'm not even fully prepared to talk about the ecological nightmare that the city represents: it's like a house where everyone was given complete and total license to leave the lights on and keep the water running 24-7.

So yes, I object to Vegas - I object to it strongly and passionately. It is built on a foundation of cheap material and human misery. There is simply no defending the place, unless you're willing to give total free rein to human greed and human self-destruction.

The problem: Vegas is fucking awesome.

The poorly-built, land-wasting rental homes have pools, flat-screen TVs, and hot tubs. The casinos feature strong drinks, hilarious characters, and the sort of adrenalin-charged atmosphere that inevitably keeps you up for days. For instance: my friends and I got stuck in line at a club for over an hour and a half, and then were told we had to pay a $30 cover charge to get in. Fuck that, we quite rightly opined. It was 1 AM. Instead of having our evening deflated, it was reinvigorated; the surge of anger carried us into a bar at the Venetian, which was free, played awesome music, and got us drunk with ease and style.

At home, all of that rage might have faded to a shrug, and we might have grabbed a drink somewhere and then headed home. Instead, we closed down the bar at 4 in the morning, grabbed (believe it or not) a limo to Jack-in-the-Box and then our house, and started up a new dance party at about 5 AM. It was like a fight to stay in constant, pleasurable motion; the dull, pleasant relaxation of sleep seemed like a defeat.

So, what's the right choice? You could make the case that Vegas is like candy: it's not good for you, and you should have it infrequently. But that's what everyone does, and that's why the city exists. It demands getting rid of all your normal hang-ups, including hang-ups that you're quite right to have. Strangely enough, I don't need ideological consistency in my vacations - I think Florence and Siena are incredible, as are the volcanoes of Central America, and I think Vegas is incredible, too. I'll keep going there, and hell, maybe I'll win some friggin' money next time.