Welcome to Fabulous Las Vegas

At fourteen, I wanted nothing more than to get rich and live in a glamorous metropolis amongst bright lights and sophisticated people. At sixteen I visited Las Vegas and re-evaluated my decision.

The lights are bright and the people are sophisticated, but nothing is quite as it seems. Illusion takes centre stage as you become dazzled by a concrete jungle filled with the replicated wonders of Paris, New York and Venice. And I was lured in, hypnotized by the grandeur of the city, and the swagger of its inhabitants.

Seductive whispers linger round every corner; this is a place where every wish can be fulfilled and every person can be a winner. Reality melts as the insides of buildings are prone to rainfalls and thunderstorms, and the unbearable heat of the Nevada desert makes you lose your sense of night and day. The casinos have no windows and no clocks, nothing seems real.

On the strip flamboyant displays take place every night; acrobats sail effortlessly overhead, pirates breathe fire at one another and water fountains dance in perfect time to Shirley Bassey’s ‘Hey Big Spender.’

Las Vegas, I thought, was a city of winners, but I mistook the grime for glamour and the smell of desire for the stench of desperation. From the greedy looks in the eyes of people sat shoving coins in slots to the shady figures pushing drugs at every street corner, I came to the conclusion that in reality, the city is home to the hopeless.

Except the losers aren’t hidden away, they’re standing on street corners, shoving pornographic leaflets into the hands of a sixteen year old girl.