From the Choreography of Risk to the Stratigraphy of Awe
Recounting Two Spectacles in America
Before dipping my shoes into the Grand Canyon earlier this week, I submitted to the choreography of the three E’s—escape, entertainment, and expenditure in neighboring Nevada.
Spending the Fourth of July in Las Vegas meant acquiescence to consumption, with a twist. Outlays for food, lodging, entertainment, and parking come with the seductive, albeit unlikely, lure of a complete “refund” via slot machines or blackjack.
Gamble and spend more, and you have the potential to recoup the cost of everything.
Meanwhile, images and first impressions are not always clear. At a parking ticket payment machine, one gentleman asks for only a $10 bill for an otherwise $20 parking ticket. He pays with a special card. His ruse saves $10 for those who agree, allowing him to earn $10 with each tap of his complimentary pass.
History revises, and a Good Samaritan becomes a con.
In Las Vegas, risk is not a natural peril but a monetized product—faux skies of a persistent dusk scramble any sense of time. Air-conditioned cocoons foster “place participation” that is inwardly focused, noisy, and disorienting.
Things spin, lights vary, bells ring.
The fireworks over the Strip from Caesar’s Palace add more spectacle to spectacles.
And these many exposures defy the natural course of things, insulating and captivating until it is time to move on, which I did, bound for the Grand Canyon.
I’d be curious how others feel during the process of abandoning a spectacle of excess and imitation for one of the Seven Wonders of the World.
Do they share in the reorientation of the senses that I experienced—trading a remanufactured Venetian Canal for the Colorado River, strategic air conditioning for an unrelenting sun, and fantasy skylines for sudden Rim edges?
At the South Rim, scale and risk recalibrate. Hikers’ risk in the heat replaces the gambler’s wager. Complex geology stands in for the Fountains at the Bellagio.
The untamed world of Kevin Fedarko’s bestseller, A Walk in the Park: The True Story of a Spectacular Misadventure in the Grand Canyon, takes over, even for those who hike down only two miles. (Not to be missed: the Grand Canyon Conservancy Book Club session with Fedarko from last October):
I mentioned Grand Canyon people-watching in my last post—observing the quirky indulgences of Las Vegas transform into a palpable, collective awe in response to something unbelievably vast.
Like it or not, the American West continues to shape our perceptions, as evident in these two examples.
First, as a powerful escape from reality, and then as a dose of how powerful reality can be. If Las Vegas is a monument to distraction, then the Grand Canyon is a monument to the indelible.
Both spectacular, depending on perspective.
Video and photographs by Charles R. Wolfe in Las Vegas and along the South Rim of the Grand Canyon.