Am I the only one who thinks it's not so Fabulous?

There's a scene from one of my favorite movies EVER, Clueless, in which Alicia Silverstone's Cher is explaining why their acquaintance is a full-on Monet: "From far away [she looks] okay; but up close, [she's] a big old mess." That pretty much sums up how I felt about Vegas this weekend.

What is it about Las Vegas that gives everyone the illusion of grandeur? The flashing lights and pulsing energy? The possibility of money won or inhibitions lost? The promise of a night that never ends in a city that doesn't sleep? Whatever it is, I fell under the city's spell on my first trip six years ago, but, for better or for worse, just saw a bunch of messy spackled dots this weekend.

How can you see the enchanted forest through the trees when each tree is it's own crazy sideshow? I'm curious to know the history of the city, like, at what point did someone decide to construct a circus in the middle of the desert? Who thought that building a mini-replica of New York City, or the Eiffel Tower, or any of the Seven Wonders, for that matter, would make good architecture juxtaposed against the vast, dry brown landscape? I suppose I could look this information up, but I'd much prefer not knowing for now, keeping in my head some illusion of fantasy.

A few months ago, John and I stayed overnight at a casino resort, basically because it was the only hotel that didn't require a two-night stay. We went to check it out after our wine-tasting, and instead of feeling excited or adventurous in this anything-can-happen atmosphere, I suddenly got very sad and panicky and overwhelmed at the bad energy that surrounded me. Instead of noticing wild and crazy kids out for a night on the town, all I could see were unfortunate townies down on their luck, playing the penny slots in the hopes that something, anything, would make that night special for them. I attributed it to the location in central California, that the clientele was different than the citified high rollers and risk takers in Vegas. But really, I saw those same people again this weekend. Wearing less clothing, perhaps, but there were few differences between the two groups.

Maybe I went to the wrong places. Maybe it was an unusual weekend, as the general consensus seems to suggest. Maybe I am just not a gambler at heart, and therefore don't relate to the city's central offering. Or maybe Las Vegas just looks better from a distance. After all, most people there are viewing it from behind the foggy haze of beer goggles. To the sober eye, one that sees clearly through the dim casino lights, that catches the stains on the walls in the hotel and the day-old, smudgy eye makeup on too many women - the optical illusion is revealed to be, quite literally, a Mirage.