In Vegas

We parked on the second level of the South Pointe garage before taking the elevator down to the Casino on the second floor. We would meet our dinner companions in 45 minutes, so we decided to walk around the casino.

The people who work the tables always seem bored and detached to me. I can't think of a worse job. It is based on suspicion and distrust. I am sure they would get fired if they were too friendly. There are a lot of overweight people smoking and drinking while they play the slot machines. The lights and bells are alluring, and people are easily drawn into the action.

Suddenly the place is full of cowboys. There is a rodeo at the South point Equestrian arena, and the guys from Texas, Montana, Colorado, and Oklahoma are all here. The uniform is somewhat standard: big belts, wide-brimmed hats, jeans, and boots. The cowpunchers look good, and some care has been taken with their outfits.

I find the cowboys more interesting than the gamblers, and I study them for a long time before heading up to our restaurant for the prime rib special. For $19.95 we are served a salad, prime rib, and a baked potato. Our waitress looks older than she should.  I think Vegas must be a tough place to make a living.


After dinner, we set out GPS and wind our way across the city to our motel. Even with a GPS this isn't easy as the matrix of roads is complex, and the traffic is heavy. At our motel, I reflect on the evening and the odd nature of this place called Las Vegas.