Vegas High

There have been few cities that conjure an image quite like Las Vegas, NV. Who needs a tourism board when you have decades of iconography to pull from? There’s the Elvis Presley song (and films). There was the wedding chapel that would be officiated by an Elvis impersonator (R.I.P.). There’s The Welcome Sign, as recognizable as The Statue of Liberty. You know the nickname (Sin City). You know the motto (“What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas”). You find slot jockeys challenging one-armed bandits™ regularly. The casinos have their own rich history along with the most ridiculous per capita architecture promoting celebrity residencies. Las Vegas. Even if you haven’t been there, it feels like you have. It’s the hometown of reckless abandonment, glitz and glamour, adult frivolity, and all before returning home from a hyperactive haze. Few cities in America are met with as many assumptions as when you say, “I’m going to Vegas.” If you don’t leave with a story, were you even there?

I say this because, until 2023, I hadn’t been to Las Vegas in over 22 years. The last time that I was in Nevada, the world was a much different place. As a preteen, I recall walking around the strip and seeing all the lights. On the speakers was a mix of turn-of-millennium Top 40 like BBMak’s “Back Here” and Dido’s “Here With Me.” Advertisements for an upcoming Aerosmith concert to promote their recently released “Just Push Play” were everywhere. I saw the robotic Marilyn Monroe in front of a pink backdrop. We visited what I’ll just call Coke World and M&M World: the only real places where families were allowed to bask in a PG-rated environment. Because of my size, the whole world seemed never-ending. From the back seat of the car, I recalled walking through an MGM Lion’s head a few years prior where silhouettes of The Wicked Witch flew around and I got to talk with a descendant of L. Frank Baum. 

The remainder of Las Vegas was appealing only because it symbolized an adult world that I didn’t have access to. Why did they get to play with those toys (slot machines) while I would be handed over to security if I so much as stepped off the carpet that lined the center walkway? I’d watch various family members pull that lever as the symbols swirled. Legends would emerge about friends of friends who “won big.” Not enough to retire, but it was clear that Las Vegas had some addictive qualities that were trying to be instilled in my impressionable mind.

But to a preteen me, Las Vegas was merely a pit stop to our ultimate destination: a family reunion in South Dakota. It’s maybe the most elaborate road trip that I’ve ever taken. As I’ve gotten older, I do wonder how I survived a drive so mundane. Sure, sometimes you land in cool places like The Rocky Mountains, but Midwest America beyond Nevada doesn’t have much to stare at from a window. All I could do was put on Sugar Ray’s “14:59” and wait for the next pit stop so I could stretch my legs. 

The year was 2001. I was in between my own transition from a terrible school to a much better one. The World Trade Center Attacks had yet to happen. It was an innocent time where you could walk people to the gate at airports. I don’t know. People just seemed more welcoming. 

That was the world I had left Las Vegas in. My absence was old enough to gamble. In that time, I’ve grown to adulthood with the mythology becoming more parallel and accessible. I’d be at work listening to coworkers who were planning post-work drives to Las Vegas to see friends. I was 20 when The Hangover (2009) came out and revived the city with one of the most successful comedies of the young century. The allure never went away. One of the most successful players on Jeopardy!, the self-described “Game Show Villain” James Holzhauer, was a gambler from Vegas. His high-stakes betting translated well to the syndicated format and even reignited the idea that people are just different in Vegas. If you know how to strategize, you could legitimately make a career by waking up and going to the tables.

But even at 20, I didn’t have the gambler’s mentality. Much like my sober 21st birthday that followed, I wasn’t exactly seeing a gate open with each new milestone. As much as I understand the value of money, I never bought into the illusion that gambling provided. Maybe it was because of my experience working as a courtesy clerk where I dealt with very rude customers who only ever turned in lottery scratchers for cash. I am unsure why the rush never entered my system. I do love sports where small factors can alter the game immensely but gambling never made sense to me. Hell, I’d go so far as to suggest that I struggle to be driven by money as I quickly became the employee who wouldn’t pick up their checks for three weeks. Long story short, the financial eroticization of Vegas never appealed to me.

But there has been one drive over the past three years to want to visit Las Vegas. Besides the simple fact that it had been two decades, I was curious to know how the city would play to an adult me. Something would reveal itself in that desert mirage. Maybe my fear of impulsive behavior would go away. Beyond all that, there was one major reason that I wanted to step foot in Nevada and take in the hot air. 

I wanted to see The Las Vegas Aces.

Since becoming a fan of The WNBA back in 2021, I latched onto The Aces as a favorite team. Part of it was the novelty: a Las Vegas basketball team. Other factors revealed themselves as the seasons went on, notably that I just think they have one of the best teams going. I remain a big fan of Kelsey Plum as much for her gameplay as I am for her overall personality in interviews. The bias is so strong that even when I saw Dearica Hamby play for The Los Angeles Sparks this year, my predilection was to remember how great I thought she was on The Aces. Still, I had seen them in our desert of Los Angeles, CA, but I wanted to see them THERE. To sit in an arena with like-minded fans meant a lot to me. So, of course, when it was announced they were making The Finals for the second year and playing my sister’s favorite team (The New York Liberty), we made a plan to go out.

The one disillusionment about visiting Las Vegas under these conditions is that we weren’t spending the night in any expensive hotel. We weren’t staying off the strip. The game was at noon and then after an hour or so, we’d be turning around and driving back to Long Beach, CA. It was a four-hour drive not including any pit stops. To break down the plan even further, we were leaving at 4:30 AM and arriving about two hours before tip-off. Then again, nothing feels more fitting for a trip to Sin City than to be a bit loopy. 

There is something to be said for arriving in Las Vegas after a four-hour drive. Prior to our destination, cities popped up every half hour like carnivals designed by 12-year-olds. Casinos are a bawdy class of artwork unto themselves. You can’t help but stare and think of the endless number of people who had to design and raise the beams on these buildings. It was so silly, so campy. The first major city we passed through was Primm, NV. We stopped at the gas station where we were parked next to some guy wearing a sweatshirt supporting Drake’s “For All the Dogs.” We were across the street from someplace with a casino AND a roller coaster. Maybe we were all dehydrated and going insane. Nothing made sense even from an air-conditioned car. Why did everything look so ridiculous? Then again, it was better than the nothing I had been seeing for the past two hours.

I can’t tell you how grateful you become for any stimulation after starting a drive at 4:30 AM. There’s a numbing quality to the drive. You eventually become entranced by the random minimalism of your surroundings, where signs for Peggy Sue’s Restaurant or Alien Fresh Jerky just consume your every desire. The trip to Las Vegas (from the west) is boring, boring, boring. The roads curve so much that you must be strategic with your yawning and hand lifting to stretch the fingers. Given that many were driving 90 MPH through the area, it’s easy to feel like you’re doing it wrong.

What’s amazing is that in the 22 years since I had last been to Las Vegas, it has felt like it has shrunk. The desert seems all-encompassing of these select few buildings. I guess it could be that I’ve spent many days in-between wandering Los Angeles and Hollywood, CA, and really know what cramped spaces feel like. You must know what you’re looking for in California. All you need to do in Las Vegas is look to the sky and see what the top of the building looks like. To be fair, I didn’t wander around as much as I did last time. However, a drive around allowed me to gawk at the buildings and admire their perplexing nature. Here was a place that felt very PG-13. On top of gambling, there were ads for burlesque shows. While there was a Pinball Museum off in the distance one way, there was an “Erotic Heritage” center on the other. It made me contemplate how much arrested development came with wanting to be here. Then again, you had to be as rich as you were antsy and horny to make any of it matter. With that said, I did see a billboard for Liz Phair’s Guyville Tour and got very excited. I’m not totally immune.

I saw the places I had loitered decades prior. They all seemed so small and inconsequential now. As much as I would love to revisit Coke World and M&M World, we didn’t have time on our trip. There was also the matter of parking. We would end up paying $30, but I’m sure other places would’ve been more expensive, and/or the miles to get to these spots would not be worth it. I didn’t feel the heat while I was out there, but I’m sure spending another 10 minutes watching cars drive by might’ve altered that.

More than the game itself, one of the most enjoyable experiences of being there came with being in the elevator. To open the doors on any floor was to see The American Dream in action. People from every walk of life were staying in this hotel, eager to walk around and stare in awe at the world they had entered. You can sense the optimism that existed in every tourist’s spirit. Maybe they wouldn’t get past the casino floor. Maybe they would stop by the Michael Jackson Cirque du Soleil store or just admire the chandeliers that hung several stories high. When you’re at the center, everything seems so lavish, creating a maze that only experienced veterans can navigate in under 20 minutes. 

The casino floors were filled with lights. It reminded me of a Dave & Busters with how much it blurred together with the dim overhead lighting. Every machine was accompanied by an ashtray giving the room a rich tobacco smell. Every machine had the seductive coloring that drew you in. Some had characters, often women of ominous background, trying to lure you in with their Sirens call. For me, it was all a confusing jumble because I couldn’t differentiate any of them. Sure, I knew how a traditional slot machine differed from solitaire types, but when my sister encouraged me to sit for a few minutes and try my hand, I didn’t understand the gravity of my decisions. Was betting more going to get me more? I was just pressing buttons. I won $1 at some point but immediately lost it. I suppose to some it’s a thrill and encouragement to try and make $2 next time, but all it did was make me hyperaware that I was losing $1 on a game of chance, and not even one that I had all that much emotional investment in.

I was more entranced by the décor of the place. Along with the Michael Jackson store, there was a House of Blues across the way. There was a bar where what looked to be a few hundred people gathered in chairs looking at a giant screen watching a football game. You could hear their cheers as you walked by. Given that this was the home court of The Aces, there was plenty of marketing for the team as well, but it was meshed in with a larger image of gambling leading to prosperity. You were likely to win it big and buy a great dinner at any of the multiple restaurants scattered in just this one building. I never walked outside and yet it felt like I had seen the whole experience.

I had a great time at the game. Much like the ring that surrounded this Jupiter, it was a place full of bravado. Everyone wanted to bet big and I think you could see it in their budget. Outside of the ball play, you could watch the screens and see The Aces athletes acting out taunts and cheers. The hosts of the game (C.J. & Joe) came out decked in luxurious outfits that suggested a royalty that goes with The Las Vegas spirit. Their mascot, Buckets, was just as much into the playful nature, at one point acting out a video Whack-A-Mole game with The Liberty’s mascot Ellie. There was nothing outright vindictive about the showmanship, but it was clear that they appealed to the slot jockeys. They wanted to make you feel like every move was going to change your life. It was a gambler’s mentality that allowed the crowd to be actively boisterous. 

Hero

Most of all, I’m grateful to have seen a game with a crowd of like-minded fans. In line, I saw jerseys for four or five players (some autographed). The line for merchandise was rounding corners. It was crowded in the best ways possible. While I don’t know that the game was as “sold out” as they claimed (a few seats in my section remained empty), it was still packed enough to make me feel the energy. For as much as the eight hours of driving that bookended this endeavor drained us, the moments to see both of our teams fight for the opening game win were very much worth it.

I am unsure how things differ in other cities in regard to W/NBA games. In my experience, Los Angeles teams have largely been centered around DJs. When I’ve gone to The Sparks or The Clippers games, I am made aware that the DJ is “in the house.” He’s always amping up the crowd with whatever upbeat music speaks to the moment. There’s crowd work to get the audience excited. While I can’t say that the rest of the game differs all that much, I think The Aces have managed to make it their own. They played Phil Collins and Frank Sinatra. They built tension in more subtle ways that felt less party city. It was cool to see how it was less driven by wall-to-wall noise and more about selective suspense. Even the introduction of teams had a nice spin where The Aces announcer pretty much glitched his way through New York before giving the home team their due diligence.

I’m not fully sure what could’ve been done to make my stay in Las Vegas more enjoyable given our quick turnaround. There wouldn’t be enough time to enjoy the kitsch. We had enough time for a few slots and even then I found myself underwhelmed by it. Once we had waited long enough for the game crowd to go away, we left and began our long journey home. Maybe I would’ve loved to have a more thorough tour even of that hotel, but for what it was, I was able to feel immersed in a Las Vegas that had been removed from me as a minor. Now it was accessible and encouraged curiosity. 

Will it be another 22 years before I return to Las Vegas? It is doubtful. However, it’s not the city that I’m most eager to visit. For personal reasons that I may explore one day, I want to visit the northwest. I want to visit Oregon and possibly Washington. I want to break free of Southern California more often and recognize how amazing the world around me is. While I’d argue that there’s enough here to give me years of wonderment, it’s not the same as forcing yourself to be free of the constraints of your home county. There is a world out there that I haven’t yet explored which I don’t even have memories of yesteryear to fall back on. That is where I want to go next.

Because that’s what I have realized as I’ve reached my Mid-30s. The pandemic only enhanced my awareness of claustrophobia in staying still. As much as I’m scared of potentially getting sick still, I am trying to not find myself hesitant to indulge curiosity. Sure, it comes with a budget and one that I am hoping to build in time, but I want to have goals. Maybe my gambling doesn’t involve putting quarters (err… dollars) into machines. Maybe I risk something more personal in my decisions. It’s there in my career. Whatever success I have there is much more thrilling than winning that $1 on a machine. Still, visiting Las Vegas meant that I had experiences, a story that I could share with others. I had a connection to the mythology that I had been consuming from people like Elvis Presley, Hunter S. Thompson, Todd Phillips, Katy Perry, and even recently with Kylie Minogue. 

All in all, I spent less than 10 hours in Vegas, and even then, it was enough to write home about if I truly wanted to. I’m grateful to have done it and I’d argue the sacrifice of nothingness at times only made it more worthwhile. Personally, I think it will be some time before I plan another trip like this, but one can hope it’s not as distant as it used to be. Life is short. It’s important to pack it with memories that you can look back on and potentially smile over.