By Example

Ruth and I spent the fourth of July week-end in Las Vegas.  We hadn’t been in almost two years, and we’ve gone as often as four times a year.  It was HOT.  It reached at least 100 degrees each day.

We both like it there.  It’s a getaway from the real world, not that our real world is all that tough these days.  In our normal everyday life, I often forget what day it is.  Being retired, everyday is Saturday. When I was working, I knew every day, every moment.  Being busy makes you stop to enjoy the getaway time you have. I sometimes take things for granted because my life is pretty rich.  I have a lot to be thankful for.

One of the things we marveled at during our latest stop in Vegas is the way people dress.  Back fifty years ago, when we first started going, people dressed up for the flight out.  There were no blue jeans and shorts.  Slacks and a nice blouse was about as informal as it got for women.  Guys wore pressed slacks and a shirt as well.  You often saw some sporting a necktie.  There were no flip flops, t-shirts, and ball caps turned backwards.

Of course the airlines were different too.  Drinks and snacks were served on every flight.  If the flight took place during a normal breakfast, lunch, or dinner time, a meal was served.   Most of the time you had a choice of entree.  You ate with real silverware. The down side was people were allowed to smoke.  Non-smokers, like me, walked through a haze to get to our seats at the rear of the plane.  The only clear designation between the two sections was the haze.  You weren’t charged extra for your bags or the opportunity to sit down.  Assigned seats, checked bags, food and drinks were all included in the ticket.

As we explored the Vegas sites, we noted the dress of the restaurant and casino patrons has deteriorated.  It’s always been a relaxed city, but we saw very few people get “dressed up” for a night out.  Many of the young women wore daisy-duke style cut off jeans.  They bought the dukes, ripped a few holes in the thigh, and trimmed a couple inches off the leg.  The tighter the better.  If they had nice looking legs, bravo for them.  The majority I viewed looked like they packed ten pounds of potatoes in a five pound sack.   I saw a couple dozen young girls strolling the Vegas strip in their bathing suits.  My handkerchief has more cloth than some of the suits.  There was a time when I might have admired such a dress code, but those days are gone.

The guys weren’t much better.  There were tank tops and hairy beer bellies everywhere.  That’s not a good look. I’ll never understand the low hung jeans that some wear.

The whole dress code issue makes me wonder where their moms and dads were during their formative years.

Vegas’s mantra these days is “What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.”  I propose a minor change.  “What happens in Vegas, should stay in Vegas.”  But you know what, in spite of the relaxed dress code, I’m looking forward to our next visit, daisy-dukes and all.