Vegas. I don’t know why, but I cannot handle that trip. In fact, I prefer the infinitely longer trip to Australia, in terms of collateral damage to the body.

David Snook

It was thus at G2E in September that I sprang around like a spring chicken (relatively) in the mornings and dozed off over my notebook mid-interview in the afternoons and was positively comatose over dinner. Know the feeling? And this year it was a new hotel, the Hard Rock Hotel and Casino and into its splendid rooms in the Tower block. But I was unnerved by the lady at the car rental desk at McCarran: “You’re staying at the Hard Rock? A par-ree hotel!”

Noting the modern tendency to omit the ‘t’ when in the middle of a word had spread across the Atlantic (irritating), I was uncomfortable at the thought of being in a hotel with the kind of mindless early hours partying so prevalent in many Vegas establishments. I shouldn’t have worried. The Hard Rock – at least its Tower – was quiet as a cemetery at midnight. But Vegas wasn’t. The city remains as thriving, partying and vital as ever and G2E as artificial as it always is.

Artificial? Yes, the ability of the masses to enthuse over the mediocre was as prevalent on the glittering booths as it always is. There were, in fact, few high spots. Never was the old exhibition cry of “there’s nothing new!” more apt. The odd spot showed glimmers of hope, it has to be said, but in a non-partisan column such as this, they will remain anonymous. But the unabashed insincerity of the city remains something at which I marvel. No-one could be offended by the raw adulation of hedonism which is Vegas; it’s in the middle of the desert so no-one’s going to stumble across it by accident and have the vapours. 

It is about as sincere as Ryanair boss Michael O’Leary having to be nice to his customers (told to do so by shareholders after a profits plunge). I shall remember that if ever I meet him and am greeted by a fixed smile, when I know he’d prefer to shove a metaphorical stiletto through my forehead.

There isn’t really a connection between the insincerity of Vegas and O’Leary – I just wanted to get the line in about the stiletto.