I spent the last half of this week in Las Vegas for the Consumer Electronics Show (CES). I had never been to Sin City and the truth was I was a little wary. In my darkest weirdest moments leading up the trip I had a recurring vision of becoming one of those women who winds up on 48 hours:
Emily Mendell was a devoted wife and mother of two when she left for a business trip in early 2011. She was a respected vice president at a high-powered trade organization. But on the night of January 6, 2011 something went terribly wrong….There would be grainy, choppy surveillance footage of me at the trade show, stopping at various Mommy Tech booths, attending an industry gathering, and leaving with some unidentified man in a cowboy hat or a bandana. My purse, with my blackberry still in it, would be found in a dumpster along the strip. There would have been a cell phone call made at 2:01 a.m. My last ever. My body would never be found.
Okay. I know. But don’t tell me you don’t have these same thoughts when you are sitting on a 5 hour plane ride, zooming towards Las Vegas in the middle seat between two rather large, sleeping people. One can only go through SkyMall six or seven two or three times before you have to go to your mental jukebox of dark thoughts.
But if you are reading this post, it means that my fatal vision was for naught. I think my fear of the place (which was actually real) kept me from getting into any trouble. (as if) I was too intimidated to gamble any real money, too busy to see a show, and too indecisive about the right design to get a tattoo.
The pure “bigness” of Las Vegas was fascinating but, in the end, a turn off for me. I like small and intimate – not big and glitzy. I often wonder if anyone really likes “big and glitzy” or, like me, they just visit these venues for the experience and never need to go back.
I also think the whole Sin City thing was completely baked into my brain. You have to admit for better or worse, LV has a brand. I was generally scared to touch anything in the entire city for the first 24 hours upon landing. Once I was in my room and breathed my own germs on every inch of the place, I was almost able to deny forget what might have gone on in there on previous nights this past week. This is harder to do in Las Vegas than anywhere else I have stayed.
What happened in Vegas will indeed stay in Vegas. But only because it was not remotely interesting or scandalous enough to bring home, share on MoB, or show up on 48 hours. Maybe next year, I’ll do better. I really want to have surveillance footage – but only if it makes me look skinny.
