Life in the big sin city (Feb 21st)

ost people back in Los Angeles think my life in Las Vegas is occupied with casinos and strip joints.  Unfortunately, your boring writer does not have any interesting gambling or sleazy stories to share -- nor would most people who live here.

Of course, that's a common perception of Las Vegas locals, most of it based on weekend trips here or TV commercials.  But to most people who call Sin City home, "whatever happens in Vegas"...is unremarkable.  Casinos may have rendered the city globally relevant but serve only as fleeting afterthoughts in our everyday lives (that is, unless you work in gaming).  For outsiders to think our lives are filled with gambling is like assuming everyone in Los Angeles are preoccupied with surfing and chasing celebrities.  Beyond a narrow geographical strip, Las Vegas is an ordinary city that betrays its hedonistic image.

Well, it's almost a normal city.  I say that because this is an unusual city -- for reasons different from what one may think.  It's different not because of casinos for 90% of Americans already live within two-hour's drive from one.  And it's definitely not different because of all the supposed “sin” that transpires.  When compared with Macau, Asia's gambling mecca, Las Vegas appears puritanical by comparison.

In my opinion, Las Vegas is unusual because this is a city of transients.  Almost everyone I've met here were recently from somewhere else and most younger people have no intention on staying for the long haul.  For various reasons, 10,000 residents pour into this desert metropolis every month while a few thousand bid it farewell.  Because Las Vegas' two million people are constantly coming and going, there is little feeling of permanence or stability.  For most, Las Vegas is a glittering subway station between where someone wants to leave and where someone wants to go.

Personally, I envision myself being in Las Vegas for 2-3 years and, afterwards, return to California or Hong Kong (the reason I took a job with HSBC) or wherever business or job adventures take me.  But no matter which station I turn up next, I'll always remember time spent in this strange city filled with strange characters and never regret standing on this platform waiting for the next train to arrive.

Boulder hides boulder-sized gems (Feb 20th)

his article in the February 2nd edition of Las Vegas Sun is the perfect follow-up to the entry I wrote here on January 22nd about the Nevada Palace (my favorite casino).  The entire Sun article is available online here.

When people think about "The Strip", they're usually talking about THE Strip (aka Las Vegas Blvd), not Boulder Highway.  But along Boulder Highway, there also exists a strip of casinos, albeit not as picturesque or outlandish.  Running directly between Downtown Las Vegas and Henderson, a cluster of modest casinos line a highway taking patrons back in time when slot machines paid actual coins and $5 blackjack tables were reserved for high rollers.  They're also great places to grab an inexpensive dinner without long queues or nightmarish traffic.

It's a shame for unadventurous visitors who remain solely on The Strip to miss out on these small establishments and a nostalgic slice of a bygone era.  But that's good news for us locals who prefer for these gems to remain hidden from the onslaught of tourists.  Good values should always be hard to find!

Surviving the filthiest roommate (Feb 18th)

Beneath that perpetual mountain of rubbish is my roomrate's coffeetable.  Everything you see on it is hers.  In my six months of living in that apartment, I don't recall ever seeing that surface free of trash.

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ejoice! I've finally moved into my own apartment and no longer live with the filthiest roommate ever!  Thanks to her, the entire apartment was uninhabitable except for my private bedroom and bathroom.

Although Alyson (the roommate) was punctual about meeting financial obligations, her living habits were models of filth and disorder.  The problem wasn't a matter of her not having enough time to tidy up.  She simply doesn't see anything wrong with living in this conditon or, worse, subjecting others to it.  Funny, she'd have time to watch the entire NBC Thursday night line-up but not enough time to wash and put things away.  After countless times reminding her to clean, I figured I should simply bite the bullet and vacate as soon as the lease expired.  Besides, I saved a lot sharing rent and utilities.

These photos were not taken on a particularly messy day. This is how the apartment looked at any given moment.  Furthermore, these photos are of public areas.  It would be one thing if she kept her mess confined to her private quarters.  But these are kitchen and dining areas that others must navigate.  It was embarassing inviting people over.

I'm not posting these pictures to be vengeful towards her but to show those who thinks I've been exaggerating about my living condition.

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In the living room was a cage Alyson used to house her dog. Most afternoons, before she returned from work, this area smelled like a pet store or an overflowed toilet. I often held my breathe walking through to prevent vomitting. Notice a dog diaper is lying in the foreground. There is also a spatula she used to remove dog poop (I hoped she didn't cook with it afterwards).

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The kitchen was the worst.  Everything on these three photos (except the rice cooker) are hers, including that bowl of dog food high on the kitchen counter.  I'm surprised this area wasn't overrun by an army of roaches.  Even though I granted Alyson a vast majority of the cabinet space, she still preferred storing food on the counter and utensils and unwashed cookware in the sink and atop the stove.

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Why are her medication on the floor when there are perfectly good medicine cabinets in her bathroom?

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Her desk (which she kept in the living room).  Why not store some of that clutter inside desk drawers? Notice more medication is on the floor. There is also a red squirt bottle of carpet cleaner she used every time her dog poops and urinates on the carpet (the dog wasn't potty trained).  This brings me to the next photo:

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Dog poop and urine stains on the carpet.  Granted, my roommate was usually good with picking up poop within minutes of it hitting the floor.  But the thought of it touching the carpet even for a nanosecond grosses me out.  In my six months of living there, I estimate over 600 pieces have touched the carpet, some of it leaving permanent stains.