The engine of our blue Pontiac hums steadily beneath us as Dave and I drive straight into the heart of Las Vegas.
Our final stop before Los Angeles and it's...
Absolutely. Frigging. Breathtaking.
The city unfurls before us like a neon mirage, shimmering with the promise of both reckless adventure and pure decadence.
"Wohoo!" I press my forehead against the cool glass of the window, wide-eyed, open-mouthed, as the skyline comes into view.
The first thing I notice is the explosion of color and light.
It's like nothing I've ever seen before. The newspaper photographs cannot compare to the real thing at all.
Towering signs blaze with a dizzying array of neon hues, flickering and flashing, demanding my full attention. I really don't know where to turn first.
There's this electric energy that crackles in the air, making my skin tingle all over.
The buildings are crowned with a myriad of neon lights, their reflections dancing on the glossy hoods of the cars surrounding us, blinding me.
"Wow. Look at this."
I get where Dave is pointing at.
The Strip.
It stretches out ahead of us, a gaudy ribbon of excess. It's lined with colossal casinos and hotels, and each one that pops up seems more extravagant than the last.
I see "The Stardust" first: its sign is an explosion of stars that appear to burst into existence right before my eyes.
Then: "Flamingo" — pink and orange glow bathes the street in a warm, surreal light.
"Caesar's Palace" looms like an ancient monument, its façade a tribute to Roman grandeur, complete with massive statues and ornate fountains.
"That one really earned its name," Dave says, and I know exactly what he means.
His hands are gripping the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles white with excitement or nerves, I can't tell.
Probably both. I know I am nervous and excited.
We pass a line of showgirls on the sidewalk, their glittering costumes catching the streetlights, making them look like moving constellations.
Each one a little shining star.
"Hey, handsome, looking for some fun?" one of the showgirls calls out to Dave as we drive by.
Dave's face turns beet - red as he stares at her, and then back at me. "Who, me? Uh, no, no, thanks," he stammers, eyes wide in surprise.
It's just hilarious how blushy and confused he is.
I can't help but burst out laughing. "Oh my god, Dave, you should see your face right now!"
He shoots me a sheepish grin, still blushing. "Not funny, Lewis. Not funny at all. Not even a little bit."
"Except that it is. It's hilarious." I stick my tongue out at him, and manage between giggles: "You look like you just saw a ghost."
"Yeah, well, I wasn't expecting that," he mutters, trying to hide his embarrassment.
I wipe a tear from my eye, still chuckling. "Welcome to Las Vegas, Dave Rivera."
Tourists and locals alike swarm the sidewalks, and suddenly it's all blur of faces, laughter, and shouts.
Everything is in motion, a living, breathing spectacle that sweeps us up in its wake.
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Love, Dad | ✔️
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