My Own Personal El Dorado
I’ve fallen in love again. The object of my affection? She’s hot, sinful, and seedy… and more than a little bit shady. Despite that… or perhaps BECAUSE of it… I am ensnared. Who is she? She is, of course, the mythological, storybook image of Las Vegas.
I mean, c’mon. What’s not to like? Storybook Vegas has no limits. In storybook Vegas, you never have to ask “is this legal?” It is legal as long as it is consensual and paid for (or freely given) with your own coin. In the glittery, eternal party, you’ve got absolute freedom to do anything.
But… that’s the mythological Vegas. The real Vegas is something different, something depressingly… mundane… underneath the cosplay. Visiting, I can suspend disbelief and go with the illusion. Were I to live there, the storybook would close and I’d be left with the reality… a freer reality than Virginia in many ways, sure… but a reality that would spoil the illusion I cherish when I visit.
That…. that… is why I don’t think I’ll ever move to Vegas.
…..
….so how’s Reno look for IT professionals? 
