You’ve all seen them, or possibly been responsible for them. The den the wife leaves to the husband to decorate, with his sports trophies, racy calendars, well-worn in lazy boy, and large screen tv. Or the hunting cabin, all dark wood carefully decorated with the heads of animals and that coffee table made from antlers. Or the bachelor pad, last cleaned before move-in not counting an abortive attempt before an even more abortive visit by a member of the opposite sex. All of these have one thing in common, interior decorating done by men.
This is Nevada. The Men’s Den of the United States. An entire state designed and decorated by men, with an aesthetic sense beyond the comprehension of any woman.
This is a state that has legalized gambling and prostitution, and has produced Las Vegas as its highest cultural and most tasteful achievement.
True, Las Vegas has evolved some, from the kicking neon cowgirls of Fremont Street to the Kitsch of the old Strip (the Sahara, Riviera, Circus-Circus …) to the billion dollar behemoths of the new Strip. (Wynn, MGM …). But despite all the money, Las Vegas is still a man’s town, with ten story posters of a showgirl’s behind and four foot round middle aged Hispanic women handing you full-color brochures portraying the girls who will come to your room to dance naked.
Several years ago, with the aging of the baby boomers, some marketing genius (or more likely the groupthink of a gaggle of marketing not-so-geniuses) had the bright idea to make Las Vegas more “family-friendly”. This involved building a number of amusement parks and arcades; but for most casinos, it only went as far as saying the words in brochures and having the showgirls wear tops for the early show. Well, to put it mildly, the town has gotten over its family-friendly stage, having decided that parents trying to control children in a purposely overstimulating environment aren’t gambling worth a darn. Treasure Island is now TI, and the Pirate show is now the Sirens Show and life has returned to normal in Sin City.
However, to really appreciate the Nevada spirit, you need to leave Las Vegas. You will find a land of miners, full of sparsely populated towns and ghost towns. Brothels picturesquely dot the countryside along with ancient trailers, even more ancient houses, and ubiquitous cargo carriers used as storage sheds. Yards make those of the Alabama hills look tidy. Nevada seems to be another state where things are never thrown away, or at least not very far.
The scenery is hard to put into words, perhaps the pictures in my Nevada album will explain it better.
p.s. When driving down the lonely roads, pay attention to where you stop for the night. For some reason, towns are located close to mountain peaks and you can find yourself at a considerable altitude. For a Florida boy, suddenly spending the night over a mile high can be an experience.
