I just returned from an annual polygraph conference in Las Vegas.  It used to be inexpensive, but now, or since COVID the prices of everything in Las Vegas have sky-rocketed.  Another thing about Vegas is it is one of those places that doesn’t ease you in gently.  It grabs you by the collar the moment you arrive and says, “Relax, I’ve got this… also, you’re probably going to be making a bad decision tonight.” Remember, “What happens in Vegas does not always stay in Vegas!”

The first thing you notice about Las Vegas is that time immediately becomes meaningless.  Casinos don’t have clocks. (They don’t want you looking at the time)  Windows are optional.  You could be winning $12 at a slot machine, if you’re lucky, at 3 a.m.  or 3 p.m.  and honestly, who can tell?  The city operates on its own time zone, best described as “Just One More Round Standard Time.”

Walking the Strip feels like visiting several countries without ever leaving the sidewalk.  In ten minutes you can stroll from Paris to New York, swing by ancient Rome, and you used to be able to end up staring at a volcano that erupts on schedule, unlike anything else in your life.  It’s impressive, confusing, and exhausting, all at the same time.  By the end of your walk, your step count says you’ve hiked a national park, but your brain says you’ve only gone three blocks.

Then there’s the people-watching.  Las Vegas attracts every type of traveler imaginable.  You’ll see honeymooners, bachelor parties, retirees who clearly came here in the 1970s and never mentally left, and a male wearing heels any time of the day.  No one judges, because no one can afford to.

Food in Las Vegas deserves its own warning label.  You can get a $5 hot dog or a $200 steak, sometimes in the same building.  Buffets promise abundance, but test your moral character and budget.  Somewhere between plate three and plate four, you start asking yourself hard questions like, “Do I really need shrimp again?” (The answer is always yes.)  The big problem with Vegas buffets is they are usually so large, that your food is cold by the time you return to your table.

And then there is the gambling.  (I’m not much of a gambler either)  Las Vegas casinos are master classes in optimism.  Every slot machine whispers encouragement.  “This one’s hot.” “You were so close.” “The next spin could change everything.” Meanwhile, your wallet quietly files a missing persons report.  Still, there’s a strange joy in it, because in Vegas, they have a way of making you feel that losing $200 somehow is entertainment and not failure.

What really makes Las Vegas special isn’t the lights, the shows, or the fact that you can buy a frozen margarita at any hour of the day (And I don’t drink at all).  It’s the shared agreement that while you’re there, reality is optional.  You suspend normal rules, embrace the weirdness, and allow yourself to enjoy the ride, sunburn (in the summer) and sore feet (year round).

Eventually, you leave.  You’re tired, poorer, and carrying stories that begin with, “So this happened in Vegas…” And as your plane lifts off, you already know something important: Las Vegas didn’t change you, but it definitely gave you something to laugh about later.

And honestly, that’s a pretty fair deal.  I know I’ll be back for the same conference next year.