What happens in Vegas...

Is evidently more boring for me than for most, though by choice.

I flew to Las Vegas Tuesday morning with 6 co-workers for an economic forum on Wednesday. We drove the strip, with those who were familiar with various projects pointing out to the rest of us what was going where, how construction was coming, and gaining a familiarity with the heart of the city that drives Nevada's economy.

We had lunch, and heard some presentations in the afternoon about the state of the Las vegas economy. Interesting for me, probably boring for anyone without an Economist's twisted take on the world.

We got to the hotel in the afternoon - staying on the Strip so it was accessible to anyone. I went out on my small balcony to take in the unimpressive view - the other hotel tower. I thought I heard someone sasy "Dave!" so I looked around, thinking a co-worker might be trying to get my attention. I finally spotted the man trying to get my attention, but he wasn't a coworker, and he had no shirt on. After a couple baffled looks from me, he finally conveyed his message.

His room number. A shirtless guy in Las Vegas was shouting his room number down to me. Ick. I left my balcony, went back inside, shut my curtain, and turned on the news.

I had dinner with my coworkers in a mall attached to Caesar's palace. I took a wrong turn on the way out, and walked a bit of the casino floor, leaving by the main entrance to Caesar's, instead of the mall entrance. On the way, I passed throngs of people gambling, and scantily clad women dancing in what may have been like the oft-seen-in-movies "cages" that women dance in in clubs - except these were surrounded by a bunch of slot machines.

I was going back to my hotel room, with my skin almost crawling with the debauchery all around me. The faux statues of Bacchus seemed more and more at home with every step. Here is a city that thrives on gratifying the lusts of the flesh. Vans driving by with 4-foot letters announcing "GIRLS WHO WANT TO MEET YOU DELIVERED TO YOUR DOOR IN MINUTES." Guys hanging out flyers on the street that (I have heard) announce much the same thing (hands in pockets, I strode past, trying to avoid eye contact). Wedding chapels and adult theaters sharing the same building in strip malls.

Everywhere, the message flows over you in torrents: do what you want. It's okay. Indulge your pleasures, live your fantasies, ignore consequences. It's nigh impossible to find a message more at odds with what I have been contemplating most of late. But that's another post entirely...