Land of Smoke and Truth

Editor's Pick Award

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I went to Reno, Nevada for the National League of Cities conference. I heard Reno is called “the biggest little city in the world.”  Hmm. No. A city by that noble title, in my opinion, would have cultural diversity, excellent theatre, and would not have its main economy be feeding off its visitors’ greed and desperation. Sorry, Reno, I’ll give you other pet titles, but ‘biggest little’ you are not.  

What *is* wonderful about this town, however, is its old-school saloon feel and its proximity to Lake Tahoe and other beautiful nature areas. Seeing those caramel-colored mountains in the distance from my hotel room or whenever I was outside was quite cool. Unfortunately, I think most visitors spend most of their time in the (often underground) casinos, breathing stale smoky air and losing money. 

Yes, dear readers, you’ve got me: I am biased. I don’t like gambling. If you’re reading this and are a gambling enthusiast, don’t listen to me. You’ll love Reno. You’ve probably already been there, along with Las Vegas and Atlantic City. You’ve won money, lost money, and had fun doing both. You’re the carefree sort, the cocktail sort, and me? I’m sitting in the corner with a bottle of room-temperature (never chilled) water. I don’t have fun. This trip I eyed the slot machines suspiciously from the start, and by ‘start’ I mean from the second I walked off the plane into the airport where I found them awaiting for me below the sign that pointed the way to the baggage claim. (What could be more important than claiming baggage?)

It just that it seems Reno is the truth of Las Vegas if it had its glitz peeled off. The veneer worn off, the veils pulled back, all those lame metaphors (you know what I mean), and there’s just the raw fact of someone betting way against the odds often with money they can’t afford to lose. There’s less glamour and more glazed over eyes here. Same smoke, same machines, same tables, same House always winning. Or when the players actually win, the same customers feeding their money right back into the game. It just depresses me. But I’d rather have Reno than Vegas, a place that has the guts to give us what it is, with no shroud of 50,000 watt exterior to hide it.

Back to my trip! Once in my hotel (the Silver Legacy, an oldie but goodie with requisite casino in its basement), I wandered around the poker tables and eavesdropped. Nothing very exciting. There was an area around some slot machines blocked off by police caution tape which whipped me into a frenzy of imagination, but then a scantily-clad waitress wielding free drinks told me that someone had puked in the area. Therein lies a lesson: when traveling, sometimes it’s better not to know.

I gave myself a pep talk and decided to try it. Gambling, people, not puking! Because the truth is that I secretly want to be the sort of person that can play poker without having an anxiety attack. I chose the slots, because I was too busy working to learn a new game. Guess what, though? Every time I touched a slot machine I literally got an electric shock! Yes, I’m serious! But I withstood that bizarre fact (no one else seemed to be getting shocked) and settled down into my nickel-slot excitement and spent three whole dollars. Eh, it’s really not that fun. I won 20 cents and as everyone else does, gave it right back to the machine. What else was I going to do with 20 cents? Can’t even get a gumball! My dad was with me, also not impressed, insisting we do the slot machines instead of the automatics because “at least we’d get some exercise.”

Enough about gambling. Onto the food! Inspired by my friend who has a “deep love for buffets,” I indulged in the local buffet restaurants for two to three meals per day. By the end of this trip I had to waddle home, but hey. The food was great! We sampled the El Dorado buffet, Silver Legacy’s Victorian Buffet, and the Atlantis. My father said it would be a good practice of discipline (as he heaped his plate with slices of forbidden red meat). For my part, I got several slices of cake/pie per meal and sampled each one (sampling takes at least 6 large bites, everybody knows that!). Then ice cream. Then several cookies. These buffets are smart to put out cloth napkins, preventing smuggling out snacks for later. But this brings me to my most disturbing feeling about these places. Sure they are fun, affordable, and the food is pretty good, but you should see the amount of food that gets thrown away thanks to gluttons like myself. One day’s waste could feed the homeless shelters for the whole of Nevada. If you go, please make up for my mistake and only take what you’ll eat. I’m going to next time.

Next time, you say? Hell, yes! I'm actually charmed by this town founded in the Gold Rush that never got over its sad love for the thrill of the unwinning chase. Sure it's a tad run down, but that brings travelers great deals on meals and accommodation. With its tacky patterned carpets and unpretentious vibe, I grew rather fond of Reno in the end. I’ll be going back for sure. :)