Alisa meets Sin City

While I've been requested to provide a Las Vegas wrap-up edition of the Recovering Journalist, I'm finding it somewhat difficult to do so. As one of the last people in the world to visit Sin City, it's not exactly easy to make any unique or insightful comments.

Whatever I have to say has likely been said before. You've all taken the same pictures that I took, been harassed by the same porn peddlers on the Strip, and breathed the same secondhand smoke. You took the same gondola ride at the Venetian, saw the same water shows in front of the Bellagio, and dined at the same buffets.

That's because everything in Vegas is perfectly scripted and designed to grab your attention and preferably, your cash. It's total sensory overload times 100.

I do have to admit that I was taken aback by the fact that everything in Vegas is artificial -- every tree, every body of water, and pretty much all of the women too.

Over on the east coast our trees are naturally occurring for the most part. Vegas has trees too but they've all been put there in recent years and spaced just-so.

In a town where everyone is on vacation, the city's promotions office has done a nice job of convincing you to suspend any sense of reality (read: fiscal responsibility) and let loose. I tend not to be very good at that but I tried.

I enjoyed a $22 alcoholic concotion in a large purple tube. We ordered room service. I used two Vegas ATMs, with service charges of $4 a pop. This is from the girl who has been known to comparison shop before buying a pack of gum. So how's that for suspending reality?

To be honest, we had a really good time and will likely be planning a trip back, as long as I can be guaranteed a plasma tv in my bathroom again.