Sunday, June 15, 2008


I arrived in Las Vegas last night. I'm here for work, which means that I am here chaperoning teenagers. Because I'm a consummate professional, that means no drinking or gambling, though I have reserved the right, through a blanket, anticipatory apology, to swear -- especially while driving.

This, of course, does not mean that on some night off I can put on my watermelon-colored, Catherine Malandrino dress and go somewhere -- anywhere without kids (still no drinking, but I don't like to drink anyway unless I'm with people I trust -- really, just with Jeff -- because then I know I'll get home safe).

That isn't to say Vegas isn't about kids -- just about adult kids. The place reminds me of Disney World, Epcot, an airport, and Casa Bonita rolled into one. First of all, it's all so big. I mean the scale -- everything looks like it's been built to one and a half scale. I feel Lilliputian walking along the strip, or pulling up to my hotel.

Then there's the hyperreality of it all, if I can borrow a word from the great Umberto Eco. Everything is so realistic, in only that artificial way that realism can suggest. But that same realism suggest surrealism -- especially when you realize that you are actually being just swept along in this place -- literally. Everywhere there's an elevator, or an automated walkway -- they just take you from venue to venue, most of the time before you even know you are leaving one to go to another.

1 comment:

TeacherRefPoet said...

This was a great year to not go to Nats.

Please tell me you're not staying on the Strip. Swatting the whore trading cards out of my boys' hands is not the best way to spend a week.

I like Vegas...for three days out of every two years. Swankette and I go pedal-to-the-medal, constant-action, no-rest-whatsoever...and that's sufficient for another two years.

Anyway, best of luck to your kiddoes.