Las Vegas is the city that never sleeps—unless it’s taking a power nap between poker games. It’s where dreams are made, fortunes are lost, and neon signs are so bright they could guide an alien spaceship to the nearest all-you-can-eat buffet.
Las Vegas is the Entertainment Capital of the World, a neon-drenched oasis of indulgence in the Nevada desert. But after the sun sets and the Strip's dazzling light displays take center stage, Sin City takes on an even more peculiar glow – literally becoming the brightest place on planet Earth.
The iconic Las Vegas Strip packs an astonishing amount of illumination into its relatively small 7 km stretch of road. Some 30 gargantuan casino resorts and hotels line the boulevard, each more ostentatiously bedazzled than the last in a perpetual game of can-you-top-this luminous one-upmanship. From Las Vegas's shimmering glass Eiffel Tower replica to the blazing volcanic eruptions at The Mirage, it's a cavalcade of incandescent excess visible from space.
The light emitted from the Strip is so extraordinarily bright that it outshines every other metropolitan area globally, including Hong Kong, which is considered the world's brightest city. Vegas's luminescent glow is so potent that people hiking nearby mountains have reported being able to read books at night just because of the ambient radiance.
Even astronauts have commented on the Strip's visibility as one of the brightest clusters of illuminated civilization on the entire planet's surface when viewed from orbit.
Residents joke that upon arriving in Vegas, visitors should stop at their local optometrist and get issued a pair of industrial-grade welding goggles before venturing anywhere near the nuclear glow of the Strip after nightfall.
Certainly, UV-blocking wraparound sunglasses are a must for strolling the sidewalks and gawking at the million-watt marquees and glaring spotlights after dark. A nice pair of stunner shades will keep your eyeballs from being sizzled right out of their sockets.
Las Vegas Underground
Beneath the glitz and glamour lies a secret world—the underground tunnels of Las Vegas. Forget about the Rat Pack; it’s the Rat Hole Pack down here. Approximately 1,000 people call these tunnels home, and they’ve turned them into a quirky, subterranean community.
Many of these industrious underworld denizens are former gambling addicts who spent every last penny chasing their big score at the tables, only to end up broke and with nowhere else to go but into the network of flood tunnels running beneath the city.
But don't imagine a grim, hardscrabble existence in these man-made catacombs. Thanks to the thriving underground economy, with savvy entrepreneurs offering services like food delivery and even hired muscle (don't ask too many questions), some tunnel residents have managed to carve out quite comfortable domiciles amid the dank passages.
Meet Tony, the tunnel’s resident artist. He decorates his humble abode with discarded casino chips and glitter. His living room doubles as a blackjack table, and his kitchen? Well, it’s a slot machine that dispenses ramen noodles. Tony’s motto: “When life gives you lemons, bet on red.”
Then there’s Gloria, the tunnel’s unofficial mayor. She hosts weekly bingo nights. The prize? A lifetime supply of neon-colored socks. Gloria’s tunnel is the envy of the neighborhood—it has a walk-in closet, a faux palm tree, and a disco ball. She throws legendary parties with glow sticks and a DJ named DJ Mole Rat.
But the real question is, how do they survive down there? Simple. They’ve mastered the art of underground gardening. Tony grows cacti, and Gloria has a thriving collection of glow-in-the-dark mushrooms. It’s like a psychedelic version of “Little Shop of Horrors.”
Families have been known to decorate their humid little caverns with Christmas lights and inflatable furniture, giving their homes a festive, if slightly moist, ambiance. One longtime subterranean squatter was famously discovered to have an entire underground apartment setup, complete with running water thanks to an illicit tap into municipal pipes. His grotto also featured a big-screen TV powered by an illegal splice into the city's electrical grid.
When investigators questioned the eccentric resident about how he obtained his luxury appliances, he shrugged and replied, "I hit a pretty sweet jackpot at the Tropicana back in '04, but unfortunately broke shortly after. Decided to make the tunnels my forever home."
These entrepreneurial tunnel rats take the adage "what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas" to the extreme.
Number Superstitions
Speaking of jackpots and lucky streaks, if you plan to visit Vegas and try gambling, you'll want to be keenly aware of the superstitions surrounding specific numbers. Many Asian-centric hotels and casinos go to great lengths to avoid referencing the number 4 anywhere on their premises, as in some Eastern cultures, it is considered highly unlucky.
Hotels like the Wynn, with its substantial Asian customer base, have eliminated entire ranges of room numbers and bypassed having a 4th floor at all, jumping straight from 3 to 5.
Other properties have removed all mention of the number 13 to cover their supernatural bases. The 13th floor is like the Bermuda Triangle. People vanish, and their room service orders are never found. Legend has it that the 13th floor is a portal to another dimension where Elvis is still alive and performing nightly shows.
So if you wander around McCarran Airport unable to locate your hotel's Room 413, relax – it doesn't exist. The number-phobia logic is a bit fuzzy, but hotels would rather avoid any hints of misfortune, real or imagined.
Still, whether you gamble in Las Vegas or at casinos.com, beware of those unlucky numbers!
If you find yourself overwhelmed by the searing brightness of Vegas at night and seek refuge underground or get disoriented searching for your superstition-avoiding hotel room. Remember—what happens in Vegas stays in Toledo. And perhaps it's best not to ask too many questions anyway.
