Flying in First Class is one of the last bastions of classism in America. You’re wined and dined while the poor unfortunates in coach get nothing but an announcement to stop using the first class lavatory unless it is an emergency. But it is done American style – anybody can fly first class if they pay the money (or upgrade via frequent flyer miles). I flew first class to Las Vegas (strictly business — we rented a car and drove to NAS China Lake. It makes for a long day, but hey, it’s not every day you get to blow up a tank.)
It was amazing to see how Vegas is an oasis of suburbia amidst complete desolation. You fly an hour over the desert with rarely a sign of humanity and then lawns, trees, cul-de-sacs, and swimming pools set in an endless sea of tract housing. And the airport isn’t just close to the strip – it’s right next to it. This isn’t your normal city. And I-15 was crowded between Vegas and LA on a Sunday night — bumper to bumper traffic while driving through miles of nothingness.
The next morning we put a hole in a tank, and drove back to Vegas but this time we could actually see more than just headlights, tailights, and sand beside the road. I have to admit, the desert does have a beauty all of its own. And as I stood huddled against the cold waiting for the parking bus to come at the St. Louis airport, I missed the heat of the desert too.
The resorts in Vegas really are something to be hold – they are all glitzy. The older ones have sheer bulk, while the later ones are themed palaces of glory. It really is an impressive place. Since I don’t gamble anymore — I lose so fast it isn’t fun for me — it wasn’t too expensive, either. But I have to say, I didn’t see any joy on the faces of the gamblers – even when the slot machines were merrily chinking away, the winner sat stoically. Judging by facial expression, it all seems like another day at the office.
