Just north of the Las Vegas Strip lies a graveyard of relics that recalls the boomtown’s lofty ambitions.
Dented metal signs, neon bulbs humming, lie in the desert dust, welcoming you to a city as varied as its defunct businesses: the bright pink feathers of the original Flamingo Las Vegas Hotel and Casino; the Red Barn’s crimson cherry in a martini glass, homage to one of the city’s first gay bars; the dancing “Happy Shirt” of Steiner Cleaners, Liberace’s one-time laundry.
They are reminders of long-closed places in a city that has reinvented itself time and time again.
I love Vegas. Mostly because Kathy loved it.
Never big gamblers we always managed to enjoy ourselves and had a bucket list of attractions we hoped to tick off on our next visit.
One day I’ll complete that list.
It sounds like the corporate pirates have worked their magic and turned their back on Middle America.
That’s worked great for Disney and Netflix.
Viva Las Vegas!
