Flyfishing Sin City

I WAS STANDING in front of the floor-to-ceiling window of my hotel room in The Paris Las Vegas at dawn. The gigantic replica of the Eiffel Tower was before me, and a deep orange glow reflected off The Bellagio’s thousands of windows. A few pedestrians scattered the walkway of the Vegas Strip, but my gaze fell upon the unobstructed portion of Lake Bellagio in the distance.

I thought I was still buzzed from the night before when I first saw what appeared to be a person lounging in a yellow pool-floatie on the water. “Only in Vegas,” I thought. Some drunk idiot ends up using Lake Bellagio as his personal swimming pool. But looking closer, I could see that the person was a man moving his arm back and forth a few times before bringing it to rest.