CHAPTER 152

Original: 2014-01-08

Rewritten: 2026-05-06

The smell of Sin City is a mixture of “smoke” and “meat” — grudgingly bacon.

Whenever I think of Las Vegas, Nevada, in the American West, I immediately remember the cigarette smoke that was basically everywhere. That overpowering smell, impossible to escape, brings back memories of my younger days in Wan Chai on Hong Kong Island and Yau Ma Tei in Kowloon, where crowded streets were packed with smokers freely puffing away on their cigarettes before generously blowing second-hand smoke into everyone else’s faces.

Las Vegas is also a giant blend of hotels, shopping malls, casinos, and restaurants. Every major hotel complex has its own unique design and atmosphere, like a self-contained kingdom, yet none has street-front shops. All indoor passageways inevitably lead through casinos.

The interiors are designed to keep visitors from leaving. Themes may differ, but the purpose is always the same, and the style remarkably similar. Under dim lighting stand rows upon rows of gaudy slot machines, flashing with vulgar and dazzling colors like a modern-day maze.

Clocks are nowhere to be seen in the corridors or gaming halls, as if to erase the passing of day and night, encouraging people to waste away their time in the emotional swings of losing more than winning while dreaming of sudden riches. Amid the crowds chasing fortune, many hold cigarettes in hand, puffing clouds of smoke into the air. Their hazy expressions perfectly match the overheated, half-dazed atmosphere, all hoping luck and wealth will descend upon them — though in the end, money usually disappears like smoke.

The smoke is not confined indoors. Even along the Las Vegas Strip, tourists cannot escape it. People come to Sin City for pleasure. When gambling is openly allowed, who would care about smoking? Unlike smokers in Vancouver, who often voluntarily smoke outdoors and even stand timidly on street corners for fear of bothering others, smokers in Las Vegas rarely hesitate to exhale smoke boldly in every direction.

Besides cigarette smoke, I also frequently noticed the smell of barbecued pork ribs — a signature dish of Sin City, common in North American supermarkets, large-meal restaurants, and fast-food outlets alike, marinated in dark reddish-brown sauce.

Whether inside shopping mall restaurants or out on the streets near hotel ventilation outlets, the aroma was impossible to miss. One may visit Las Vegas without gambling, but one certainly cannot avoid eating — especially the enormous buffet “battlefields.”

Western restaurants and fast-food outlets seem almost as numerous as casinos. The last time I passed through Las Vegas with a tour group, our guide educated us that the city’s main livestock industry must surely be pig farming. Since both humans and pigs are omnivores, feeding restaurant leftovers to pigs would be both logical and economically efficient.

Returning to Las Vegas at my present age of 54, my senses could no longer endure it. My legs had also weakened. Surrounded by the exaggerated brilliance of its dazzling artificial scenery, every step felt exhausting. After standing in line for two hours just to eat at a buffet, I was so tired once the food settled in my stomach that all I wanted to do was sleep.

What remains most worth remembering is that only Las Vegas possesses the financial power, resources, boldness, and technical expertise to produce such long-running acrobatic spectacles. My wife and I were able to enjoy the magnificent live performance The House of Dancing Water at an affordable price. Every stunt was performed live with genuine skill — absolutely no deception. We also watched a Michael Jackson tribute dance show that seemed to bring him “back to life.”

Though exhausted, the trip was not without reward. If circumstances allow, perhaps the ideal way is to fly in and out on the same day just to watch the shows.

Then again, would living like that be a little too much?