It’s 2 pm and I will be shortly landing to Las Vegas city. I look through the plane window and the first thing I see are little flat white boxes laid out in a tight stringent order stretching as far as the horizon. Blocks and blocks of suburban neighborhoods in the desert.
I walk through the main hall of Las Vegas airport. Little old bored ladies sit in front of the slot machines and tempt fortune.
It’s daytime and the city sleeps. It will wake up at night with all its furor and craze.
But now it’s so silent. I walk to my hostel, a little bit further from the Strip. It feels like daydreaming.
I find my hostel in a street packed with wedding chapels, strip clubs and some other obscure institutions.
Elvis is winking me from every corner.
On my way to the hostel I pass some vagrants with empty eyes and some young drifters who all came to this city once with big dreams.
Hello, night – cunningly whispers the city. At some point suddenly everything transforms into a huge glowing void of mad revel. The smell of banknotes steams from the casinos, old grumpy ladies distribute colorful strip club booklets and sex call phone numbers.
Welcome to Fabulous Las Vegas. A city of replicas and lost souls.