As my plane descended to land, I could clearly make out the unmistakable skyline of The Strip, an architectural juggernaut of casino-hotels, malls and depravity, all artificially set aglow by neon, flickering LEDs, and pulsating strobes.
It was as if the entire universe had descended on Vegas - to soak up the sun, lounge at blackjack tables and prop up a million bars. A modern-day Gomorrah, its job is to lure people to party, to toss money into a bottomless pit, to bulk up on buffets, gawk at crazykitsch architecture, and sin without regret. It's mesmerising and for those with limited self-control - potentially bankrupting.
