I’m in Vegas, it smells like nothing, and the city lights are burning my eyes out.
I’m in Vegas, I text a friend.What does it smell like, she asks. I sniff the air. Nothing. It will smell like nothing for all four days.
Once, I received a postcard from a good friend.
He wrote: “They built a city in the desert. There are casinos, there are naked women, there are mountains you can only see from observation towers.
You have to pay for the view but the tits are basically free.”
I tell Mücahit: They’ve built a city in the desert, they shouldn’t have.
I’m in Vegas and I can’t air out the room. I inspect the window frame, but it’s screwed shut, no way out. I prop the door open and brace it with a chair, but it’s so heavy I have to keep it open with my foot. A person walks by.
What are you doing?
I’m letting the air in.
You know you have two aircons in there, right?
Right. I know. But I hate them.
The breakfast serving is too much for me, I want to take the leftovers with me. They hand me a thin plastic bag with “Thank you” printed on it over and over in red letters. I know these bags from movies, shows, images, references. I’m delighted.
After two days, I throw the bag away. I’ve seen enough plastic.
I’m in Vegas, and when I want to get out of bed, I have to let myself fall down from it. The bed is taller than my hipbones. The blanket is as thin as my little finger.
They built a city in the desert, and that’s exactly how it feels: wrong. Everything is artificial. Everything is a backdrop. And every sentence I want to write about it is a cliché. I guess you had to be there.
I’m in Vegas and my pupils are always constricted, there are no big pupils here, the lights are always on, bright as day and blinking, my jet lag doesn’t get better, it gets worse every night.
I lose 8 dollars in Las Vegas. I lose my hotel key card in Las Vegas. I lose my mind in Las Vegas.
A woman won 3.800 dollars at a slot machine. But she had also invested 400 dollars.
Where are you guys from?
Germany.
Oh, I have a friend, he lives in Antwerp, and that’s really interesting with Germany.
You mean he goes to Germany? To visit?
No, it’s just that it’s interesting.
We nod.
I’m in Vegas, and it’s so loud I can’t breathe anymore.
The fake night sky on St. Mark’s Square on the first floor of the Venetian brings sweet relief. Finally, a warm light. And for the first time, it smells like something. It’s the chlorine from the replica canal.
The views expressed in this text are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views or positions of the Goethe-Institut.