Flesh For Sale: Las Vegas

One thing that really surprised me about Las Vegas was not necessarily how they have bastardized every significant monument in the world, but rather it was the blatant flesh for sale. Vegas, essentially, is a theme park for the seven deadly sins and an interesting sociological study.

We’ve all heard the adage: what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, but I had no idea that some folks actually take it quite seriously and that casino owners are embracing it. The weekend folk seems to be there to prove the adeage is true and were a bit more wild than the weekday folk. During the weekend there were lots of young people looking for action. Girls wearing barely there dresses that could cause you to confuse them with hookers. Guys strolling around on the prowl, trying to catch the attention of passing gaggles of girls. Shops with slutty outfits in the windows. Hotels with topless pools, oh sorry, I mean, with an ‘European Experience’. Sculptures based around nudity. The weekend seemed to emphasise the Vegas flesh experience.

And that’s is to be expected. Vegas is where a sexual whack-job can go to be free. However, what was a bit startling were the lines of Hispanic men wearing bright t-shirts boasting: “GIRLS, GIRLS, GIRLS. Delivered to your door in 20 minutes.” Wow, it’s like pizza. If it’s takes longer than 20 minutes, does that mean they’re free? But not only are the men wearing the shirts advertising the phone number, they have a stack of coloured business cards with photos of half dressed or nude (white) women (where is the diversity?) and a phone number. All hours of the day there are lines of these guys up and down the strip, and particularly in areas where people have to squeeze by them as there is no other way around. Every hand that went by, they would try to slip a card to them–even though I never saw anyone other than loud drunk young men take a card–one group was collecting them like sports cards. But it was the flicking that really got to me. Whenever you walk by, even if you are holding the hand of a large man, they flick their cards with a thumb making a ‘flicking’ noise and try to slip a card into your hand. By the end of the trip, I was ready to grab one of those stupid cards and shove it up a nostril (not my own nostril in case you were wondering). Isn’t it obvious that I prefer men and am not looking for ‘company’?

So although the flicking nuddy cards were annoying, it was the discarded cards scattered on the sidewalks that really annoyed me. It is rather disconcerting for someone who likes to walk briskly and often checks where they are walking to have their attention always being caught by cards underfoot. Always walking, always walking on a half-dressed or naked woman cast down like garbage upon the ground. Littering the sidewalks in compromising positions, slowly being ground into the cement. Bothersome. It affects one’s psyche.

But that’s not all. Newspaper boxes that line the sidewalks don’t hold newspapers, they hold call girl catalogues, the yellow pages has 100 pages of ‘entertainers’–yes I counted. Everywhere you look, flesh is for sale. You look out into traffic and there is a moving billboard with a scantily clad woman with a phone number and the words, “Hot Babes. Delivered to your door in 20 minutes.” Is there some central warehouse? How big is Las Vegas anyway? It takes me 20 minutes just to get through my hotel/casino and up to my room! So, up and down the strip these billboards drive, sucking up fossil fuels, rubbing super-sized breasts in your face.

Oh, and I forgot about the showgirls. What would Las Vegas be without showgirls? Of course the casinos have waitresses wearing barely-cover-your-bum outfits and sport dancers and large posters of buttocks and ads for showgirl performances. Our ‘do not disturb’ sign for our hotel room door had showgirls on them. Even scultptures in Vegas are naked.

Sadly, Vegas has even turned Toni Braxton into a ‘showgirl’ and alluded to that her singing show may be a nuddy show by calling it ‘Toni Braxton Revealed’. Check out the side of the hotel where she plays:

It’s no wonder that after awhile you feel the urge to start dressing like a slut. Okay, no. But I could see how someone might if they were one of those who enjoyed walking the strip with their alcohol in hand–which also appears to be legal–and likes the experience of grinding with another woman on top of the bar at Coyote Ugly and taking their top off at the pool.