I Understood the Saying: What Happens in Vegas, Stays in Vegas

The week before the Las Vegas strip closed down, my husband and I visited. The last time we visited Vegas, 10 years ago, we saw the billboards that caused me to blush, attended shows with scantily clad females and carried a colorful drink down the strip. But our recent 2020 vacation offered new and unexpected stimulation for the senses, so many they will remain engraved on my senses until the quarantine lifts.

Following the suggestion of a friend, we visited The Fremont Street Experience. It is touted as one of the most famous areas in town, second only to the Las Vegas Strip. The area consisted of approximately three blocks lined by tourist novelty stores, bars and casinos.

The stores sold everything from t-shirts, shot glasses, naked anatomy drinking cups and pooping Donald Trump key chains. The bars sported girls dancing and contorting their bodies on counter tops wearing limited clothing, and selling 14-dollar cups of beer. Every casino promised opportunities to be rich, happy, and successful. Walking down Fremont, I quickly realized anything a person might desire was readily available.

Immediately upon stepping onto Fremont, visual stimulation slaps a wanderer in the face. Overhead, a canopy covers the entirety of the outdoor street area. Publicized as the largest video screen in the world, it captivated my attention as bright colors and shapes moved across the sky projecting images that sometimes conveyed a story while triggering feelings of excitement, amazement, and expectation. And to add to the overhead stimulation, four zip-lines carried participates through the corridors at high speeds.

Music accompanied the shifting images that moved to the beat and accentuated the words motivating visitors to dance or simply sway in place. Though different genres blared they all were upbeat, energizing and held the ability to make a person forget the time or not care.

Large black-lined circles on the pavement, held entertainers and artist (terms I use lightly) who performed to entice the audience to dig deep into their pockets and share their wealth. Some exchanged flowers made from palm leaves, t-shirts sporting catching sayings, or trinkets that shocked a person into parting with their money. Others sold nothing tangible but offered an experience that supported the slogan, “What Happens Here, Only Happens Here.”

Men and woman stopped to have their picture taken with a wannabe member of the band Kiss wearing nothing but face paint, a black thong and the signature high heeled boots.

Another circle contained an older woman wearing a pink bra, sweatpants hovering below her bulging belly, and a panda bear head. Nobody crossed the black line to enter her circle and most averted their eyes as it was too painful to look upon directly.

Multiple young girls offered opportunities to be spanked, whipped, handcuffed, and . . . just let your imagination go wild. They were dressed as police officers, hookers, or in one case barely dressed at all. I discovered as long as a Band-aid or duct tape covers the nipples, clothing is optional.

One performer truly entertained. Wearing a one-piece leotard from neck to toe, he stood approximately 6 feet tall. His talent was to climb into a 2 feet by 2 feet box. I would not have believed it if I had not witnessed it with my own eyes. We donated a couple of dollars to his cause - which we assumed would be a chiropractor.

We were informed the acts were allowed to use the area within the circles for a two-hour period before they had to move to a vacant circle. (A practice that I imagine will facilitate reopening due to social distancing.) We discovered multiple people who didn’t even bother to develop an act to earn an income. They simply walked around with signs requesting money. One read, “I am not going to lie. Need beer money.” Another offered to babysit your wife for a fee while you gambled.

We arrived layered in clothing anticipating the outside temperatures, but the rush of movement, open storefronts, and mass of bodies created an unexpected warmth. The air felt sticky and heavy and the smells overwhelmed us adding another element to our already over-saturated sensory systems. On a past visit, the aroma of marijuana floated in secluded corners when we walked around. But this night is followed us and permeated our clothes. Since our last visit, the weed had become legal thus it was prevalent and seemed to serve as a substitute for tobacco.

When the live band took the stage at 10:00 p.m., I began to feel my age. We moved to a few songs before agreeing our souls required less stimulation; we tolerated less intrusion than in our youth. I got a glimpse of what a severely ADHD individual might feel like on a daily basis.

Once we left the tapestry covered experience, our discussion attempted to process the experience and we all agreed, what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas — except for this little peek.

Freemont Street is scheduled to reopen on June 4th.