Phil sat in the shade of manicured imported palm trees and watched the irrigation stain leech towards the crisp edge of the artificial turf. He is reviving in a place where value is relative, where worth is conceptual and where merit and morality have dollar equivalency. The streets and pavements are spotless, polished by the tyres and shoes of those entranced, entrenched and enticed. There is a cleanliness that impresses, an order, a photogenic neatness that pervades all images. A beauty of façade, a glimpsed obsolescence, a romantic nod to history but no regard for preservation. There is spectacle, encouragement and entreaty at every intersection along The Strip.
And of course there are the people, the genuine, the pleasant, the scammers, the criminal, the kind, the helpful, the cruel, the nice and the deceptive. Vegas is a desert oasis fought over by cowboys and Indians, miners and traders, a community built by enterprise and motivated by envy.
Phil's chair was positioned away from the castellated wall to ensure it would not pierce the resin-covered styrofoam faux stonework . His mood was being slowly fuzzed by the iced yard of cocktail he'd half consumed. The be-jewelled, be-feathered and near naked girls working the passing crowd for photo tips had started counting their money, removing their headgear and slipping on more comfortable flat shoes as they prepared to relinquish their spot to the Grand Canyon trip hawkers, pimps and ticket scammers.
The girls, Phil had decided after watching their smiles and nubile bodies, were sweet college kids who had sourced last season's showgirl costumes in order to display and pay their way in this place where money talks and more money talks more. Phil felt in his pocket for the shrunken fold of dollars. Mostly singles for tips, a couple of twenties, one fifty and a fiver or two. He didn't have much to say in this place now. After a year of saving and a bit of borrowing he landed into McCarren LVA pumped, primed and eloquent. That was five lost days ago, four nights of high limit craps and blackjack, limo trips, sexed up nightclub visits and fancy restaurant meals for fun friends he didn't know. This morning he'd walked from the free tram, ignoring the $8 temptation of the air conditioned Deuce to bring him here where he could use a discount coupon to buy this watery cocktail. He had three more days. He would be hungry by Thursday.
Vegas is a desert valley. A dessert valley with ten trillion gallons of stored water. Vegas is happiness and fun. It is fake and there is nothing more real. Vegas is bright light and despair, oblivion and world renown entertainment, fine food and homeless hunger. Vegas is dark and joyful. Vegas is underlying threat, unending optimism and omnipresent opportunity.
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