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Essay Archive - Suicide in Las Vega
Suicide in Las Vega
Hell is expensive. This is my first thought as my plane lands in Las Vegas. The
Luxor hotel's glass pyramid seems dangerously close to the runway's edge, as do
its chocolate-and-gold sphinx and rows of shaved palms. I wonder if these rooms
tremble when jets land. Behind the Luxor are mountains kissed by dust the hue of
bone; to its left lies the Strip, where color is so bright it looks like it has
died, rotted, and come back as a poisonous flower.
I have been forewarned. First, I am told flying in at noon is "not the way to
enter Vegas." Correct entry is at night. This way I would have the full
treatme....
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