“What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.” But I guess I am the one exception to the rule. I grew up three miles from the Strip, where the chiming of the slots and the chinking of change into machines will forever be the sounds I hear when I think of home.
Being from a town that’s more than a hop, skip, and a jump away, I have always received strange questions regarding my upbringing. Some of which included, “Do you live in a hotel?”, “Is your mom a showgirl?”, and “People actually live in Las Vegas?” Yes, people do live there, a whopping 2.1 million of them.
Being separated from home for long enough, I realize that my “typical childhood” wasn’t typical at all. I didn’t grow up in a town where children ride their bicycles up and down the block or where family values are prized above all else. Instead, I grew up in a place that represents a haven where one can suspend who they are, evade the realities and stresses of life, and be someone else for a weekend. I grew up in a place where there is a perpetual linger of alcohol and smoke haze in the air. Essentially, I grew up somewhere that has a universal lack of inhibition that promotes your worst, most primal behavior.
My childhood memories consist of being surrounded by inebriated tourists, seeing “Hot Girls Direct to You” billboards on the way to tennis practice, and passing five strip clubs on the way to school. While these seem depressing in a way, my memories also consist of going to Cirque du Soliel shows, staying in a hotel room for a friend’s birthday party, and going to the desert for field trips.
Growing up in Las Vegas wasn’t like living on Mars or having an inherently depressing or exciting childhood. It was normal to me. I went to the movies (granted most movie theaters are in hotels, so that’s a little weird), had soccer games on Saturday mornings in the park, and had sleepovers with my best friend a few blocks over.
It’s always hard to answer the question “What was it like growing up in Las Vegas?” because it’s a mix of a lot of things. I resort to saying that it’s loud with music and people, bright with the millions of lights, and a little different. In reality, however, I have nothing to compare it to. For me, growing up in Las Vegas was a little boring, over-stimulating, and normal. Growing up in my hometown was like you growing up in your hometown. Las Vegas is home.
