To those of us unfortunate enough to have involuntarily been assigned an upcoming weekend in the Nevada psychic shithole, this is not a silly search query. It is very important.
It’s called hope in the face of hell.
Seems Google’s results missed the mark.
I hate Vegas for many, many, many reasons. Gambling is just one. Gambling is a boring intellectual drain. I derive ZERO enjoyment from the act of robotically pulling a lever or pressing buttons; while other snobs steer “higher thinking” toward card games which don’t excite me either. I’d rather channel my brain power at objects other than 2-dimensional playing cards. I see no joy in participating in an activity that will, in sum, take more money that it gives. I’m a bit of a miser, a minimalist. I see no pleasure in placing my precious money on the line in a low-odds-of-multiplying context. And what is Las Vegas but one big-ass lavish shit show of overkill? The city oozes excess and waste and superfluous garbage.
One result caught my eyes. It was Las Vegas for people who hate Las Vegas, naturally. The travel blogger, Gnome Trotter, pretty direclty lays it on the line.
Though I’ve been a couple of times, I really truly don’t like Las Vegas. I don’t really gamble. I certainly don’t fuck prostitutes. And after one good night of drinking, I’m down for the count for the rest of the weekend. So how can you enjoy Las Vegas if you kind of hate Las Vegas?
I can relate. L.A. is pretty close to Vegas, just close enough to offer a weekender outing for most people living here. I certainly was no stranger to the drinking and partying life when I was younger; I indulged in most bad habits you can be troubled to contemplate, but even within the depths of my darkest depravity, I found it in myself to hate Las Vegas. I’ve tried it a few times in my life. Always gave Vegas a fair shake, a chance. On paper this was the place for a degenerate such as me, but I always found it underwhelming, vapid and desperately banal.
Gnome Trotter is well-intentioned and suggests other activities for those who don’t partake in booze, gambling or whores. I appreciate his efforts but I hate the city so deeply for what it essentially is: an extroverted, loud city. I am introverted and quiet. There is absolutely no overlap between my persona and Las Vegas’s. I can’t stand crowds, needless noise, yelling, loud sights, loud personalities, artificially recreated places (see Disneylandtopia).
Some of Gnome Trotting’s non-sinful alternatives are:
Yes, food is plentiful in LV. Big food, grand food, hedonistic barrels of food of every color, texture, origin and culinary method slammed down your throat with a gluttonous hammer. Thing is, I am not a foodie. I eat whole foods and rarely string together more than a two 2,000+ calorie days in a row. Buffet lines mock me and pocket their profit while I walk away with a barely covered plate (and sometimes, I actually serve myself another!) If I lose at the slots, I surely lose at the all-you-can-eats.
Watch the Bellagio fountain show
Crowds, lights, loud, don’t think so.
Sorta like the Grand Canyon Effect. Lights look purdy for 10 seconds, good, ok. Now what?
Take a nap by the pool
Crowds and too much sweaty, wet and lubricated molted skin. Sunbathing is the most useless activity I can think of. Nix!
Watch a show
Potential, but doesn’t eat up enough of the rest of my Vegas limbo
Ugh, enough, enough. I can’t go on with this interminable incantation of Vegas diversions. It’s a dead list – Vegas is a one-trick town. Any attempt to find a semblance of sane and decent humanity in that city is to peer into the void of spiritual squalor.
What happens in Vegas needs to never leave.