Here’s the thing. I’m in love with Las Vegas. I fought against it for
years and years, and then I left it to go to college, and at some point
during the transition, I realized that the reason I loathed it with
such a passion was because deep down, I was really actually rather in
love with it.
There’s no good REASON for me to love this city, though. It offers me nothing
of much use, and it has its sporadic moments of entertainment value and
it’s fun to visit, but as far as long-term commitment? I’ve always
known I could never settle here. I’ve always known I would never want
to raise a family here. But even without the hopes of a future with
this city, I still can’t let it go. I still can’t close the door. I
still can’t keep myself from coming back, from wanting to come back.
I’m not a desert person, and I don’t smoke, drink or gamble. I’m not
compatible with Las Vegas. I love forests and green mountains and
rivers and lakes and oceans and seas. I love seasons and snow. Las
Vegas is a fickle and unfaithful city, and each time I come back,
regardless of how long my absence was, something has changed. A
favorite haunt has gone out of business, or new buildings have sprung
up and now block the once-lovely viewing of this-or-that. It knows no
boundaries, forever verging on excess, forever extending its spiderweb
of housing and commerce.
California, on the other hand, has never offered me anything less than
ideal surroundings. It’s home to a host of fabulous cultures, home to great food
and music and museums and outdoor activities. Stretching up and down
its vast coastline are either memories I hold dear in my heart or
memories just waiting to be formed. California is good to me,
California understands my needs and caters to them, and effortlessly.
California recycles and thinks kindly of vegetarians.
Las Vegas is a city that doesn’t appreciate what it has until it’s too late. California is a state that *does.*
California makes me laugh and smile for a universe of countless
reasons. Las Vegas makes me cry for two: because so much hurt and
unhappiness have taken place here, and because I don’t know how to be
okay with having left.
For the most part, I like the person I am when I’m in California. Rarely does a
second go by when I don’t detest the person I feel I am when I’m in
Yet for all that, I just. can’t. let. go.
On a slightly related note– why are there always incredibly attractive
men wearing suits everywhere I look when I’m at McCarran? Certainly
they came from *somewhere,* and odds are good that at least *some* of
them came from southern CA, so why the hell do I never see them there?
Attention, attractive men wearing suits: have you heard of this great
little city called San Diego? You should maybe visit it sometime, or
better yet, just move! We, too, have an airport there. And a convention
center. Both are air-conditioned. So, you know, you can keep wearing
your suits. In comfort.
Just a suggestion.