sure. wait. what?

MY PARENTS wanted to welcome the New Year in Las Vegas, so I said sure, why not?

We flew to Sin City just a few days before 2024. I had pre-booked a ride from the airport to our hotel off the Strip, and the driver bluntly told us that the area I chose wasn’t the best. “At least you’re close to a fire station,” he said. I would soon discover that staying off the Strip during one of the busiest times of the year was indeed an awful decision, but I’ll speak more about that later.

After settling into the hotel, my parents and I took an Uber to the Strip, marking our first foray into the iconic Las Vegas Boulevard. I quickly learned that you can’t just choose a random pick-up or drop-off point for your Uber in Vegas. There are designated spots that are usually tucked away in specific corners of massive hotel entrances or hidden within maze-like parking structures. On one hand, this system helps avoid traffic congestion. On the other hand, it makes finding your Uber ride extremely difficult.

Uber drivers in Vegas also have a curious habit of texting while driving. Since our hotel was off-Strip, we relied on Ubers to get around. On every single ride, the driver was happily texting away, their eyes frequently darting between their phone and the road. One driver was even watching a Korean drama on an iPad mounted a mere inches away from the dashboard. Tsss.

Our first night on the Strip was brief because we had an early morning tour the next day. The bus tour took us to Grand Canyon West, and the driver-slash-tour-guide was a tall, wide-hipped black woman who goes by the name Miss America, and who speaks…like a black person. This was my first time hearing the so-called blaccent in real life and it was…notable? I realized that Black American is completely different from African Canadian, which one would think was obvious — like duh — but it took hearing “ya feel me?” in person for me to, uh, feel it.

Miss America was fantastic. She had a great sense of humor and she balanced her prompts, keeping our group both entertained and informed. When we arrived at the canyons, she expertly guided us to the best spots for photos. Her tour was my favorite part of the Vegas trip, which was funny because Grand Canyon wasn’t even in Vegas — it’s in Arizona. I hadn’t realized Arizona was a Red state — or is it, really? My only clue was the Trump 2024 merch I saw at the gas station where we stopped. Similar to hearing the blaccent, this was also my first time seeing the rah-rah-rah Trump campaign in person, the closest I had come to the MAGA milieu.

The tour lasted a full day, and by the time we got back to Vegas, my parents and I had just enough time for dinner and a bit of sightseeing to experience the city at night. Vegas is a spectacle at night. The Strip was vivid and vibrant, like neon pop art on shrooms. Flashing lights and enormous billboards illuminate the night with an intensity that’s perhaps bright enough to trigger an epileptic episode. Vegas is extravagance. Vegas is decadence. Vegas is aggressive, relentless excess.

For the rest of the trip, my parents and I indulged in classic tourist activities. We posed for photos in front of the iconic “Welcome to Fabulous Las Vegas” sign. We saw the lifelike wax figures of celebrities at Madame Tussauds. We marveled at the stunning fountain show at the Bellagio. We explored the opulent lobbies of The Venetian, Caesars Palace, and MGM Grand — where, as my mom pointed out, Pacquiao fights. We even caught a Cirque du Soleil show. One thing my mom had really hoped to do but we didn’t manage was dine at Hell’s Kitchen. Maybe next time.

A few hours before the New Year, the Strip was cordoned off from traffic. Ubers and taxis could only navigate through select streets, and Las Vegas Boulevard became a sea of people eagerly waiting for the fireworks display from various hotels. My parents and I chose to watch the fireworks near Treasure Island, primarily because it was closest to the Uber pickup point I could find.

I generally avoid large crowds, and New Year’s Eve in Las Vegas is the epitome of a massive, massive crowd. Armed police officers were stationed at every corner, and signs explicitly forbade strollers and large backpacks. A helicopter hovered above, its bright spotlight scanning the scene below. I was on edge, not gonna lie, nervously glaring at anyone who dared to carry a backpack despite the warnings. Meanwhile, my parents seemed perfectly content, sitting calmly on the sidewalk, patiently waiting for the fireworks to light up the sky at the stroke of midnight.

When the fireworks display ended, we made our way to the Uber pickup point. What followed was pure, unadulterated annoyance. The Uber app malfunctioned, preventing me from booking a ride. (Pre-booking wasn’t an option due to the anticipated surge in demand.) Some people resorted to stealing rides, knocking on car windows and haggling with drivers. It took us over an hour to secure a ride, and by the time we finally reached our hotel, we were sticky and exhausted and thoroughly worn out. Our first driver was right. To anyone planning to visit Vegas for New Year’s Eve: stay at a hotel on the Strip, or at least within walking distance from the Strip. Trust me. It was mayhem.

The Uber debacle was hectic, but the trip was fun overall. I’m not particularly eager to return anytime soon, and if I do come back, I’d likely explore nearby attractions like the stunning Antelope Canyon. The Strip is a one-time thing for me, though I wouldn’t mind seeing the Bellagio’s water show again. It was beautiful.

As for my parents, they were over the moon. “I still can’t believe I spent New Year’s in Vegas,” my mom said, her smile so radiant I think I saw a twinkle and heard a “ting!” As long as my parents are happy, I’m happy too.