Two Prudes in Vegas

By Dorothy Nixon

I am a nineties parent; I'm not supposed to have fun.

I'm a baby boomer, a born-again prude famous for angry letters to the editor decrying every social trend that threatens to corrupt my two little boys: sex trade signs, lotteries, Nintendo, TV violence.

How, then, did I recently find myself somewhere in the Mojave Desert, speeding towards the most corrupt place of all: Las Vegas?!?

Las Vegas has long been my husband's destination of choice, but I've never felt any urge to visit. "Last on my list!" I've always said. "First, England and Bloomsbury; second, Florence and the Uffizi Gallery; then Mexico to indulge my fascination with Pre-Columbian culture. After that, the Acropolis would be nice, then the pyramids..."

But Vegas? For the honor of paying 60 dollars to watch Sigmund and Freud prance around on the stage in fancy codpieces? Never!

Yet there I was, speeding through Tumbleweed Town en route to Vegas with my husband, Blair, and my three California cousins, Peter, Kit, and Veronica. It's a long drive and the desert is boring. There's nothing to look at. (There's real meaning in the word "desert.")

All that changed the instant we hit the city. I was pleasantly surprised to find that the Las Vegas Strip is really quite alluring. I had expected to be met with tacky, sleazy, crass and crude, only to find that many of Las Vegas's exotic pleasure palaces are true wonders of playful grandeur.

The newest casino is "New York, New York." This block-long architectural marvel is a whimsical replica of the Big Apple, complete with a miniature Brooklyn Bridge and a not-so-miniature Statue of Liberty. "The Luxor," a pyramid-shaped hotel with a Sphinx head outside, is also impressive, with sleek and evocative architectural lines. "Excalibur," a candy-colored, cartoon castle-shaped complex, is also dazzling. And "Caesar's Palace" boasts a classical elegance that surpasses my expectations. The statuary, the wall- paintings, and the "blue sky" roof are all meticulously rendered. At the sight of "Treasure Island," I suddenly suffer pangs of guilt. It looks like something my kids would like, complete with a movie-set pirate ship exterior -- but I've left the kids behind in Montreal with Grandmaman!

I feel compelled to rationalize this injustice. Blair and I deserve some time to ourselves after 11 years of marriage, I tell myself silently. Don't we?

The truth is, Las Vegas makes me feel like a kid again, but the killjoy within me won't let up.

"Let's face it, the aim of all this is to awe you -- then quickly separate you from your money," I couldn't help telling Blair.

"Las Vegas isn't any different from any other place that wants to get your money," he retorted. He was busy digging out his wallet to divvy up our gambling cash.

We had allotted a paltry 100 dollars to play Las Vegas, yet I felt guilty about even that small sum. As my husband handed over my fifty dollars, I felt driven to rationalize our spending.

"Hey, we spent 100 dollars on Andrew's Air Nikes last week. Why shouldn't we have some fun ourselves for a change?" I explained in an effort to banish my guilt.

Blair didn't seem troubled. Immediately, he hightailed it to the roulette tables with his 50 bucks. (Veronica had told him that odds are best there.) I gravitated toward the more temperate nickel slots. I played for a while, but soon got frustrated. Why did it sound like everyone was winning big time, except me?

I strolled up to the roulette table where my cousin was on a winning streak. My husband watched her with greedy hawk-eyes, trying to pick up her technique. Then he started to play. I leaned over his shoulder. I wanted him to win money so bad, I could taste it!

Wouldn't it be cool to bring back a surplus? Maybe even a car? Just breaking even would be nice! My husband gave me the evil eye: this was HIS game. I wandered over to another roulette table and plunked down the 20-dollar minimum. I had no real idea how to play. The croupier looked as if he wanted to slap my hand, he was so frustrated at my lack of gambling savvy! Lucky for him, I lost my twenty in about 10 minutes.

I headed back to the slots -- dollar machines this time -- and began feeding it five dollars at a time. In two minutes, I was broke. Feeling gypped, I sheepishly headed to a banking machine and ordered more cash from Montreal. Just 40 dollars -- but did I feel guilty! I'd broken the pact. But if I won, I told myself, Blair wouldn't care.

I didn't win, of course. Penniless, I looked around for my husband. My cousin, alone at the roulette table and now on a losing streak, told me that Blair had gone to our room. I dragged myself upstairs to bed where I found my husband already asleep. Here we were in Vegas, a youngish middle-aged couple without the kids, and my husband falls asleep!

I was anything but tired. My one-day flirtation with vice, so fraught with psychological tugs and pulls for neo-puritanical me, had been undeniably invigorating. So we'd spent a couple hundred dollars under the neon glow. What of it? I could suppress my prudish tendencies -- for one day, that is.

I pulled open the stiff curtains and looked out over the dazzling strip to the dark and moody desert hills in the backdrop. Las Vegas looked like another planet entirely. I found its otherworldly beauty strangely compelling.

The next morning found us analyzing the lure of Las Vegas over crepes, sausages and Eggs Florentine at Caesar's Palace.

"Nice place to visit -- but only for a short time," said my cousin, Peter.

"Talk about a Mecca of excess!" nodded Veronica.

"All the Seven Deadly Sins are here, that's for sure," I agreed, stuffing a third croissant into my mouth.

At three o'clock we said goodbye to Vegas. We departed the Strip exactly 24 hours after we arrived. Before we've made it 50 miles into the desert, my husband begged Veronica to stop the car; he had to throw up. Veronica pulled off he road so my husband could heave into a tumble weed. I got out to comfort him.

"Migraine," he groaned. "Must have been additives in the bacon."

I smiled, wondering if his puritanical side had gotten to him after all.