Bald Man with tattoo on Chest, Las Vegas
From the Las Vegas I collection
Las Vegas– or as I think of it, Disney on Steroid– for adults has always been the kind of place that was a gas for three or four days. That coincided with the length of time I spent for years at Photoshop World. God knows why they wanted me there. Possibly as comic relief. I mean I’m the kind of guy who hates sitting at any computer. Still don’t know how to really use my iPhone and even have troubles with microwave ovens.
Thus I had no interest in learning anything at these conferences. I did my talks, met with friends, and had a lot of time to go out shooting for myself.
All over American there has been homogenization of our cities. You could be dropped down in most cities in the country and have no idea where you are. Not so in Las Vegas. The whole place is unapologetically screaming, “This is Las Vegas and we’re bigger, better, and brighter than any other place!”
Who ever heard of a place where taxis don’t cruise for fares–they wait at hotels and casinos. You have to go find them.
Walking is the best way to see Vegas. The crowds are all tourists; basically everybody is a tourist. The locals live elsewhere. Nobody can afford to actually live in Vegas (Henderson, a suburb, was at one point the fastest growing community in the known universe.)
The buildings are breathtaking masterpieces of overstatement. Grandiose is the keyword and minimalism an unknown word here.
Beautiful showgirls, great entertainment, amazing food, eccentricity is the norm, and a graveyard of neon signs, shooting ranges, canopied streets (Fremont). Details of the airport are visible from your hotel room, but the cab ride there will astound you.
I don’t gamble much, don’t drink at all, and I still have a great time in Vegas.
But after three or four days in Vegas the soul cries out for normalcy.