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Have you ever walked into a place and thought, “Where the hell am I?” or “What the hell am I doing here?”

I had one of those moments last week. My husband and I went to Las Vegas for a few days. In the dead of the night (well, okay, dead anywhere else except Vegas which had traffic jams) we arrived at our hotel–after spending an incredible amount on cab fare. We walked into the shiny, glamorous entry of the hotel, our backpacks slung over our shoulders only to be met by a gaggle of Howie Mandel’s girls from ‘Let’s Make a Deal’. Okay, okay, not really. But they could have been stand-ins judging by the way they were done up. Or maybe they were call girls. Really, how can a country bumpkin like me tell? 

So, after weaving through the look at me giggles flicking their blown out fancy hair, we found ourselves in a sparkling, shiny casino. Huh? All I could think was, “Where the hell are we? And cigarette smoke?” The stale booze smell wasn’t nearly as shocking as the stunning cigarette smoke. It is incredible how quickly you get used to public spaces being free of cigarette smoke. (It is banned where I live, but not in Vegas casinos!) After my husband dazedly turned a circle, he discovered the check in desk behind us and off to the side. Whew.

The next stunner was customer service. They immediately began upgrading us and I of course, began panicking. But all for naught. Evidently upgrades are free. And thank goodness the room was said to be smoke free as I could already practically feel my lungs seizing up. So, off through the jangling casino we strolled, feeling self-conscious with our luggage slung over our shoulders. Finally, we arrive at the elevators. In case you are curious, no 13th floor. Up to our room which of course, smells like stale cigarette smoke. <Sigh.>

The next day, after a HUGE (and pricey–$3.50 for a beverage) breakfast we headed out to check out the strip. This in itself was an adventure as after walking for approximately forever, we discovered all sorts of things that were not in fact the strip (flamingos, a topless pool, people still drunk from the night before, a grocery store that advertised guns and booze, and some homeless people). And then at last, the strip. Wow, are Casinos really hard to get out of! We soon discovered that it usually took two of us to navigate through their wily keep-you-inside schemes. (In one Casino, we walked for over a km before finding our way out at the other end. Those things are mammoth!)

But we found the strip. Unfortunately, we wanted to cross the street. But it was blocked! Tricky, tricky. Eventually, we discovered that the escalators we had been avoiding were actually a way up to the fancy pedestrian bridges that we had previously not noticed. These pedestrian bridges were tricky too because they would often dump you into a casino. Sometimes, there would be stairs back down to the street–often set back so if you weren’t paying attention you would land in the casino. All the tricks to get you to spend all your money!

Here is a photo to show an amazing walkway which will spit you into a casino:

But soon, we were experts on making our way around the strip and put over 35km on our poor little legs in 3 1/2 days and found that the strangest things became entertaining rather than brain puzzles.

Tags: Travels //