Like a floating raincloud dumping drops into the sea, our AmericanWest flight arrived at McCarran along with a few hundred thousand other gawkers on the busiest weekend of the year. Aluminum clouds spewing Jet A arrive day and night, belching their human cargo out into the Glitter Gulch. An unending train of taxicabs, shuttle busses and limos transport the masses to one of a hundred mega-resorts. Vegas is the ultimate symbol of excess; you gotta love it.

Our shuttle was packed with couples from Texas, Wisconsin, and states and nations unspoken by their glazed over residents. While you could hit the Luxor from McCarran with a good seven iron, the shuttle ride to the hotel took almost half an hour. The check-in process was as smooth and polished as the black glass exterior and we were soon ready to go. Except that it was now 9:00 pm EDT and we were starved having not eaten since the day before. Two hours and 6000 calories later, there was just enough energy left to sit out by the vacant pool and watch the full moon rise over the black Luxor main pyramid.

Nowhere near adjusted to Las Vegas time, Saturday began at dawn (5:30 am). We packed down another 6000 calories in typical Columbus style and were ready to hit The Strip. Las Vegas distances are not like distances elsewhere in the world. What looks like a solid eight iron can take 20 minutes to walk. What looks like a typical par four may take an hour. It's a matter of scale. Things are very, very big here. After an exhausting few Las Vegas blocks in the 110 degree desert heat, the Luxor pool was looking pretty good.

In addition to the constant stream of people watching entertainment, that evening we experienced the Blue Man Group. Much like Cirque du Soleil's Mystere, you've got to see Blue Man to understand it and even then the show leaves you speechless. Blue Man is a collection of sights, sounds, and experiences that commands your undivided attention for the entire 90 minute show and leaves the sounds reverberating in your mind for hours. Unlike a lot of Vegas shows, Blue Man has assigned seating. We chose row 5 in the poncho section to be close to the action. After repeated vows against flash photography (not a single flash popped during the entire show), the experience begins with a deafening introduction of rhythms, both visual and auditory, that continued for the entire show. The Blue Men do the most unusual things including catch paintballs in their mouths from across the stage, wander into the crowd, beat drums that spatter bright red and blue paint ten feet into the air, and inexplicably transform from their semi-human form into living neon entities. Before the show starts, they pass out lengths of white crepe paper with the instruction "just have fun." Mine became a bandana. Like I say, you've got to see it to understand it, and even then it takes time to sink in. The Blue Man Show gets my highest recommendation. Buy the CD too, you'll love it.

Our tour of the Vegas spectacle continued, though still dazzled by the sounds implanted by Blue Man. The hordes of foreigners and gamblers have funded the growth of several new properties along The Strip since our last visit here in 1995. New York, New York had only recently broken ground and The Rolling Stones were playing The MGM. While it's not quite as impressive as the real Manhattan skyline, the real thing doesn't have a roller coaster careening through the buildings. The views from the coaster offered a unique perspective on the glitz.

Near the top of the favorite list is the Belagio. In a land of excess, this place takes the cake. The Belagio doesn't have the surrealism of the Aladdin or Paris Las Vegas, instead it has the genuine articles and plenty of them. Elaborate indoor gardens (yes, the flowers are real), a simple and elegant water show on its 30 acre lake that draws thousands for the ever changing shows, an original Dale Chihuly ceiling in brilliant colored glass flowers. Words don't describe it; make sure it's on your list to see.

Las Vegas sits in the middle of a vast desert and if it weren't for the water tapped from the Colorado River, none of this would exist. Vegas literally sprang up from nothing. Given the heat common to most deserts, one of the recent tricks Vegas architects use is to create the outdoors indoors. Using depth perception manipulation and ceilings painted like the sky, you can be magically transported to an outside anywhere in the world. Yeah sure, it's fake, but it's damn realistic and it's a lot closer than the real Champs-Elysees. Plus, you can walk from the canals of Venice to the port of Casablanca to the streets of Rome to the Village in New York all in a matter of minutes. Try that without a magic carpet.

We were feeling pretty smug and familiar as the weekend was coming to a close, that is until the bizarre titer shot through the roof. Judging from my Lowe Apline T-shirt and the other pages at this site, we're obviously on the conservative side. Still, I have always prided myself as being able to hang with other worlds and enjoy the finer points of life. Conservatism will never make a Saint of me. When the ratio of pimps and prostitutes to Fly-Over types began to skyrocket as we approached Mandalay Bay on Sunday night, I began to wonder if Vegas had swung too far. These weren't the usual Vegas call girls advertized by the ever-present swarm of street "vendors." These were a special, extreme breed of girls sporting thongs and see through mesh body suits, bras but no shirts, and painted on shirts with no bras. The sky was the limit: guys in purple felt hats and leopard furs, real stereotypical stuff. Thankfully, it turned out to be just the Rubber Club's Pimp 'n Ho Medieval Ball. Truly the spice of life. If you're feeling extreme, check them out at www.pimpnho.com.

Pimp 'n Ho not up your alley? Try the Burning Man Festival far out in the Black Rock Desert north of Gerlach, Nevada. This annual event brings artists, partiers, performers, and gawkers in from across the land and is reportedly second to none in breadth, diversity and outlandishness. From a Burning Man first timer: "You belong here and you participate. You're not the weirdest kid in the classroom -- there's always somebody there who’s thought up something you never even considered. You're there to breathe art. Imagine an ice sculpture emitting glacial music -- in the desert. Imagine the man, greeting you, neon and benevolence, watching over the community." Cool, huh? The moon set over Mt. Charleston one more time. We soaked in the sun by the pool for a few more hours then caught a flight back to reality. Strange days indeed.