I'm at the flash new airport waiting for my flight to chilly Chicago, looking forward to somewhere real. Vegas was fun, but it's also very silly, and nothing is what it seems, from the buildings to the shows to the people on the streets. In one block of the Strip, I saw Marilyn, Elvis, the Super Mario Brothers, Dora the Explorer and a couple of Minions, most of them pretty tatty, all touting for photo ops; as well as sundry beggars, buskers, grifters and hustlers, and one man peeing against a wall while he was using both hands to check his phone. Which was kind of impressive, but not in a good way.
All the glitz is still there, but when you're short of sleep, your feet hurt and your eyes are stinging from the air freshener constantly squirted into the air in the casinos to mask the cigarette smoke, it's less easy to accentuate the positive.
So I'll be glad not to see slot machines everywhere (they're even here at the departure gates) and to get somewhere real. And damper. My sinuses haven't appreciated being taken to Nevada, and my hair could do with some bounce back.
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