A Quieter Las Vegas Than Last Year

— Impressions of a Chinese Visitor

The plane landed in the desert at dusk. Through the window, Las Vegas shimmered with that familiar light — a brilliance that belongs only to the desert, a mix of neon and dust, magic and heat. But as I stepped out of the terminal, I faintly felt that the city had slowed down a little.

At this same time last year, the arrival hall was packed, casino seats were scarce, and the Strip was buzzing with energy from around the world. Today, the crowds remain, but the feverish excitement seems a notch lower.

While waiting to check in at the hotel, I overheard the front desk clerk telling another guest, “We have quite a few promotions now — occupancy is a bit lower than last year.” Her tone was calm, not worried — Las Vegas has seen too many ups and downs. Room rates aren’t much cheaper, though. That nine-dollar cup of coffee made me ponder, perhaps for the first time, what “inflation” really tastes like.

When night fell, I walked along the Strip. The neon lights still dazzled, but the pace of the crowd was looser. Last year, I was almost swept forward by the throngs at this very corner; tonight, I could slow down, stop, and take photos for myself. The giant glowing Sphere rotated its massive eye and constellations in the distance, while new theaters and restaurants breathed under the lights. The city is still renewing itself — but now, it feels like it’s catching its breath rather than sprinting.

For a Chinese traveler like me, the most visible change might be that there are fewer compatriots around. Last year, I could hear Mandarin everywhere — in restaurants, shopping centers, on sidewalks. This year, it’s mostly English, Spanish, and French. It isn’t loneliness, exactly — more like realizing that the banners of tour groups, Chinese menus, and “WeChat Pay Accepted” signs have quietly faded away.

Yet this gave me a chance to rediscover the city. Las Vegas is not just a “paradise for Chinese tourists.” It is a city constantly adjusting to heat, economy, and its own balance. Maybe because there are fewer visitors, I finally chatted with a waiter about his post-pandemic life, and for the first time, sat quietly on a bench outside a casino, watching headlights stream through the night like rivers of light.

People say Las Vegas is a mirage of glamour. But today, I think it’s more of an honest glitter — still bright, but no longer desperate to shout. Perhaps this is what it means for a city to return from noise to life itself.

On my last morning, I saw a short desert dust storm swirl past my hotel window. The wind swept down the avenue, and sunlight softened on the billboards. A line came to mind:
A city’s prosperity isn’t measured by how many tourists it attracts, but by the memories it chooses to keep.

And right now, Las Vegas is waiting quietly — for the next wave of people to set it aglow again.