VEGAS INC coverage
I’m writing this a few hours after landing from an Easter weekend jaunt to Miami Beach, and boy are my arms (and legs and eyes) tired. In less than 96 hours, I experienced one of the most exhilarating, exciting and, yes, exhausting trips ever; you know, fabulous. And yes it was.
Some background. As some of you know, I’m a fairly new arrival to Las Vegas and an even newer member of the city’s workforce. I was born in Boston, grew up in Miami, attended college in New Orleans (Tulane) and started my magazine career at Esquire in Manhattan, where I lived for two decades with intermittent tours of duty in San Francisco and Los Angeles. I’ve been fortunate to live, love and work in some of this country’s greatest cities so I was excited to add Las Vegas to that sexy list of chic metropolises. It didn’t disappoint.
I don’t care who you are or where you came from; if you’re a new Las Vegas resident, it definitely takes some getting used to. As noted above, I’m hardly reluctant to pack everything and invade a new destination if the situation is right. I’ve been the guy who has had to acclimate to a new city and its rhythms and quirks many, many times in my life. But Las Vegas is a beast of an entirely different stripe. The city is boastful yet socially awkward; it’s visually gaudy and unbelievably classy; it’s slick, shiny and grand but has a gooey-yummy center that keeps everything in check. Las Vegas is, in fact, a complicated, contradictory, smallish American town that’s been aggressively sold to the world as a tawdry, boozy vacation cliché.
After a horrendous red-eye flight, I arrived in Miami early Friday and made my way to Soho Beach House, the latest incarnation of the London-based Soho House (I’m a long-time member of its NYC outpost).
With this week’s cover story, reported by Las Vegas Sun Senior Print Editor Tom Gorman, we dig deep to find out what makes a world-class city a great town to live and conduct business in. So I decided to do my own unscientific survey.
Poolside or at the bar, I’d strike numerous conversations with the well-heeled folks around me, at least half of whom were European. Whenever I told anyone where I lived, 100 percent of the Europeans I spoke to were fascinated and excited about what living in Las Vegas entails, while 100 percent of the American club members I told I lived here looked at me, frankly, with slight horror. Now, I’m not entirely sure if this is a fair sampling (we’re talking maybe 30 people or so) and these particular Americans seemed more Rodeo Drive than Main Street, but, it was uncanny that without exception, the Europeans wanted more information about Vegas and my fellow Yanks were instantly put off by the mere possibility of calling Vegas home.
Though Las Vegas hardly needs defending, I took it upon myself to speak on behalf of our city to these pretentious dolts who believe we who live in Vegas are hanging from the chandeliers in smoky celebrity-filled nightclubs every night of the week. The unyielding Americans only became more embarrassed for me when I fessed up I was more likely home watching "The Good Wife" or "American Idol" than hangin’ with Kanye on the Strip. I mean, have you seen "The Good Wife?" Genius.
I started getting annoyed at the speed and consistency of the judgment being passed on as unquestioned fact by these wealthy US tourists. Don’t paint an entire city with a late 1990s neon brush, I emphatically said. Come to Las Vegas with an open mind, and see the truth for yourself. The Europeans were fascinated about the notion of conducting business in Las Vegas, how the housing crisis became a housing opportunity (Is it smart to buy a vacation home now?) and the very cool idea of living “on a cruise ship.” The enthusiastic foreigners were well read and well traveled and prepared to hop on the next flight to Las Vegas if they could. Now those are my kind of people. The whole accent thing added a little giggle to my soul.
As the packed airplane was landing back in Las Vegas—and the beginnings of my newly discovered tan began to fade—I felt for the first time ever that I was “coming home.” A big deal. Though I’ve had that feeling before—certainly with New York City—this time it surprised and amused me. After living in so many incredible places, the idea that I was coming home to Las Vegas now made sense to me. I realized that was the real reason I defended the city from those bullies clutching their pearls in Miami. Because I live here. And more than that, it’s home.