Las Vegas. Lit in a blaze of neon and fueled by alcohol, the city itself seems to be weighed down with secrets and promise. The polished gloss of its sparkling skyline is a siren song to anyone searching to become someone else – if only for a weekend. Whether it’s the darkness of the kinky sex that permeates the background on CSI or the sunlit drunken amnesia of The Hangover, Las Vegas has been the setting for numerous stories that twist like tangled vines through its history. The truth is, most of the fiction couldn’t hold a candle to the facts.
They say what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, but is that really true? The basic premise of this catchy and oft-repeated slogan is that Vegas cultivates the idea that it’s okay to lie, to change who you are and to do things you would never do, because when you leave, you leave it behind. But memories are like fingerprints; everyone has a unique set and they will always be a part of you. Everywhere you go, your experiences are stamped in your brain like initials in sealing wax.
My experience in Vegas is usually a whirlwind of bad behavior, chance encounters, dance beats and hotel sheets- somewhere between Ke$ha’s “Take It Off” and Katy Perry’s “Waking Up In Vegas”- but nothing I wouldn’t do in any other town, including this one. The only difference in this equation is the introduction of a brand new catalyst. Or two. Or three at a time. Maybe it’s because for the very reason that people believe they can be and do whatever they want within the confines of this jewel embedded in the desert, it changes their attitude and their approach to others.
Within the parameters of our cities and towns, everyone knows who you are or what you do, or even the image that they perceive as genuine. When you leave the steel and asphalt bubble you live in and travel somewhere else, no one knows you at all. It’s liberating for some, because it gives them the chance to try on a different guise; someone they always thought they could be or even the person that they truly are inside.
Take Micah, for example. When we met, I was enamored of his big blue eyes, his pillowy lips and the gap between his two front teeth. We had some drinks and talked about bullshit – the fugu I had tried, the charm of Amy Schumer, and what would happen on the new Heroes reboot. He told me he was just out of law school and his new position in a corporate law office was stressing him out. I told him that sounded rough, and then ordered another round. Soon we were in a cab, and before long, we were “discussing important issues” elsewhere. I noticed the paint stains along his fingernails and asked him if he was changing the color of his bedroom, and that’s when he told me he had lied. He wasn’t a lawyer at all. He was an art major at UCLA. The funny thing was, where he thought it would sound better to say he was a lawyer, I found the fact that he was an art major much more appealing. Guys who are creative tend to be more creative. Just remember that, kids.
Then there was Paul. Paul is a professional dancer with a smile like heat lightning and a body like a superhero, both of which are qualities I tend to admire in a guy. Add a pierced nipple and a voice as deep as Vin Diesel’s and you’ve got yourself a pretty darn good combination. Paul came to Vegas from my hometown, Chicago. He was a skinny kid who reinvented himself as a dancer, working his way to the Vegas stage through hours of practice and a side job on the unforgiving brass pole. Needless to say, we both had a laugh about our shared experiences dancing in our underwear. It seems strip club patrons all act the same no matter where you are. We stayed up all night and ate blueberry pancakes while the sun came up. That’s when he told me how whenever he met someone he really liked, they were always from somewhere else. “It seems like no one is ever really from Las Vegas”, he said. This wasn’t the first time I had heard that statement. Almost every guy I talked to that lives within the glitter-dusted city told me the exact same thing.
Vegas is a city of tourists, not only from the United States but all over the world. When you travel to Miami, Dallas, or Chicago, the odds are you will meet someone from that very city. In Vegas, the odds are you will meet someone from another city altogether. I met people from Norfolk, Denver, and L.A. while I was there. I even met a guy from Kensington, a swanky neighborhood in London. The call of Vegas reaches around the globe, promising dazzling nightlife and a place where you can gamble – and not just with money. To gamble means to take risky action in the hope of a desired result. We gamble every day with our hearts, our minds, our jobs and our partners. Life itself is a roll of the dice. When it comes to gambling, there is a Chinese proverb that can be used not only for games of chance but for every single decision you make: decide upon three things at the start: the rules of the game, the stakes, and the quitting time. These rules apply everywhere. It doesn’t matter if you are in Vegas or Kensington or Indianapolis.
The two guys I mentioned, plus the newly out-of-the-closet Gavin from New Hampshire, taught me something about why people flock to Las Vegas every day of every year. To become someone else; whether it’s for a moment or a lifetime is something we think about every day. Did we make the right choices? Have we done all the things we have wanted to do? Have we acted impulsively and recklessly as if tomorrow might never come? Under the shadow of the Stratosphere, these thoughts come to fruition as if they yearn to connect with all of the other thoughts and dreams of all the people that line the streets and clubs on the Strip. Here in this modern day Babylon it seems all is permissible. But what most people don’t realize is that you can ask yourself these questions and bring them to life no matter where you are.
As for my trip to Vegas…Did I literally lose my shirt? Yes. Did I lose my phone only to discover it in my back pocket? Yes. Did I have a stripper with the words No Remorse tattooed below his navel pour liquor down my throat? Yes. Did I have tequila and red velvet cake for breakfast? Yes. Did I take everything I needed from Las Vegas and return not only with stories for this column but a better understanding of what Las Vegas is really all about? Definitely. Do I recommend the experience for everyone? Of course I do. But take my advice when I say that you don’t have to turn yourself into a fictional character to find everything you need in Las Vegas. You’ll learn more about yourself and others if you tell the truth. The only thing you need to change is your level of inhibition. Are you willing to go all in?
Article republished with permission from The Gay Word.
Las Vegas. Lit in a blaze of neon and fueled by alcohol, the city itself seems to be weighed down with secrets and promise. The polished gloss of its sparkling skyline is a siren song to anyone searching to become someone else – if only for a weekend. Whether it’s the darkness of the kinky sex that permeates the background on CSI or the sunlit drunken amnesia of The Hangover, Las Vegas has been the setting for numerous stories that twist like tangled vines through its history. The truth is, most of the fiction couldn’t hold a candle to the facts.
They say what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, but is that really true? The basic premise of this catchy and oft-repeated slogan is that Vegas cultivates the idea that it’s okay to lie, to change who you are and to do things you would never do, because when you leave, you leave it behind. But memories are like fingerprints; everyone has a unique set and they will always be a part of you. Everywhere you go, your experiences are stamped in your brain like initials in sealing wax.
My experience in Vegas is usually a whirlwind of bad behavior, chance encounters, dance beats and hotel sheets- somewhere between Ke$ha’s “Take It Off” and Katy Perry’s “Waking Up In Vegas”- but nothing I wouldn’t do in any other town, including this one. The only difference in this equation is the introduction of a brand new catalyst. Or two. Or three at a time. Maybe it’s because for the very reason that people believe they can be and do whatever they want within the confines of this jewel embedded in the desert, it changes their attitude and their approach to others.
Within the parameters of our cities and towns, everyone knows who you are or what you do, or even the image that they perceive as genuine. When you leave the steel and asphalt bubble you live in and travel somewhere else, no one knows you at all. It’s liberating for some, because it gives them the chance to try on a different guise; someone they always thought they could be or even the person that they truly are inside.
Take Micah, for example. When we met, I was enamored of his big blue eyes, his pillowy lips and the gap between his two front teeth. We had some drinks and talked about bullshit – the fugu I had tried, the charm of Amy Schumer, and what would happen on the new Heroes reboot. He told me he was just out of law school and his new position in a corporate law office was stressing him out. I told him that sounded rough, and then ordered another round. Soon we were in a cab, and before long, we were “discussing important issues” elsewhere. I noticed the paint stains along his fingernails and asked him if he was changing the color of his bedroom, and that’s when he told me he had lied. He wasn’t a lawyer at all. He was an art major at UCLA. The funny thing was, where he thought it would sound better to say he was a lawyer, I found the fact that he was an art major much more appealing. Guys who are creative tend to be more creative. Just remember that, kids.
Then there was Paul. Paul is a professional dancer with a smile like heat lightning and a body like a superhero, both of which are qualities I tend to admire in a guy. Add a pierced nipple and a voice as deep as Vin Diesel’s and you’ve got yourself a pretty darn good combination. Paul came to Vegas from my hometown, Chicago. He was a skinny kid who reinvented himself as a dancer, working his way to the Vegas stage through hours of practice and a side job on the unforgiving brass pole. Needless to say, we both had a laugh about our shared experiences dancing in our underwear. It seems strip club patrons all act the same no matter where you are. We stayed up all night and ate blueberry pancakes while the sun came up. That’s when he told me how whenever he met someone he really liked, they were always from somewhere else. “It seems like no one is ever really from Las Vegas”, he said. This wasn’t the first time I had heard that statement. Almost every guy I talked to that lives within the glitter-dusted city told me the exact same thing.
Vegas is a city of tourists, not only from the United States but all over the world. When you travel to Miami, Dallas, or Chicago, the odds are you will meet someone from that very city. In Vegas, the odds are you will meet someone from another city altogether. I met people from Norfolk, Denver, and L.A. while I was there. I even met a guy from Kensington, a swanky neighborhood in London. The call of Vegas reaches around the globe, promising dazzling nightlife and a place where you can gamble – and not just with money. To gamble means to take risky action in the hope of a desired result. We gamble every day with our hearts, our minds, our jobs and our partners. Life itself is a roll of the dice. When it comes to gambling, there is a Chinese proverb that can be used not only for games of chance but for every single decision you make: decide upon three things at the start: the rules of the game, the stakes, and the quitting time. These rules apply everywhere. It doesn’t matter if you are in Vegas or Kensington or Indianapolis.
The two guys I mentioned, plus the newly out-of-the-closet Gavin from New Hampshire, taught me something about why people flock to Las Vegas every day of every year. To become someone else; whether it’s for a moment or a lifetime is something we think about every day. Did we make the right choices? Have we done all the things we have wanted to do? Have we acted impulsively and recklessly as if tomorrow might never come? Under the shadow of the Stratosphere, these thoughts come to fruition as if they yearn to connect with all of the other thoughts and dreams of all the people that line the streets and clubs on the Strip. Here in this modern day Babylon it seems all is permissible. But what most people don’t realize is that you can ask yourself these questions and bring them to life no matter where you are.
As for my trip to Vegas…Did I literally lose my shirt? Yes. Did I lose my phone only to discover it in my back pocket? Yes. Did I have a stripper with the words No Remorse tattooed below his navel pour liquor down my throat? Yes. Did I have tequila and red velvet cake for breakfast? Yes. Did I take everything I needed from Las Vegas and return not only with stories for this column but a better understanding of what Las Vegas is really all about? Definitely. Do I recommend the experience for everyone? Of course I do. But take my advice when I say that you don’t have to turn yourself into a fictional character to find everything you need in Las Vegas. You’ll learn more about yourself and others if you tell the truth. The only thing you need to change is your level of inhibition. Are you willing to go all in?
– See more at: http://thegayword.com/pecs-and-another-city/#sthash.mDzXLXpB.dpuf
