Some weeks back I visited Las Vegas for the first time in almost 30 years. In the intervening time since I rushed through it as a teenager tagging along with parents I missed the transformation of the old school gambling mecca into the adult playground it has become. As a teenager I have vague impressions of sun-baked hotels, dark dungeonous casinos (and being chased out of them for being underage) and the neon tapestry of the night. I barely remember the old Vegas, actually, and now only know the new one.

I was tagging along again this time with friends who work in video production, ostensibly to visit the National Association of Broadcasters show -- and we saw that for a few hours one day. Although I'd been in the video earlier in my career most of the developments that I saw in the show were a blur of cranes, 3D-cameras, super high speed cameras, and virtual sets. And that was just the hardware portion of the show. I only ran through the Adobe pavilion, gawked a bit at the Canon fortress and oo-ed and awwed at the Giger-esque cameras in the Red Digital house.

I do have an affinity for the weird life of a convention, and a bit like Martin Parr, I like the oddities on the sidelines more than the actual products on show. The girl with the motion capture dots on her is earning her living providing the live motion data for the bigger-breasted fantasy figure on the screen behind her. Anywhere else, that is wierd. Here, this set was one of dozens with the same idea and same semi-bored performer lounging or dancing on a stage for men in suits.

In early spring Vegas outside was actually fairly pleasant but cool hotel lobbies still were necessary havens from what felt like a marathon regime of walking and gawking. When hotels occupy mile-long blocks it seems designed to make you pop into each and every hotel just for a respite. The funny fake classicism of Caesar's Palace seems to define the faux stature of the city. It is beyond jokes about new-Rome. All jokes are brushed aside by it. You chose to come here, after all. Similarly, having canals in The Venetian hotel and a fake sky ceiling is up there cheekiness. (I recommend the buffet at Caesar's, by the way. It rated up there for the money. On another day we ate at an excerable buffet when McDonalds would have been a step up.)

I was only here for a handful of days but, like those who are much more familiar with the lore of the place, I was struck by a thread of loneliness and outsideness. People rush in and have their fun - as we did. But some people stay, work, have stories that you don't really know. Are they on the sidelines for some reason?

Did they get ground down by it and want to leave? Like the cocktail waitress who bummed me out with her story about her handicapped kid and her ex and then laughed as she took all my quarters and jammed them into the machine for me. That was on Fremont -- the old Vegas -- the one place I remember from my only other visit. Not gaudy enough, and shorter than I remember, but with some ugliness, CSI-ness. The overt trash of the pornography parading on the sidewalk or on the main strip.

That same loneliness struck me as I straggled behind my group looking for images. You can't come to Vegas alone. I saw happy newlyweds, older couples, large families, Hangover-fans, but the people by themselves seemed too odd.

A girl with a guitar like this is everywhere in Vancouver but in Vegas, singing folk songs? A curiosity.

A moment like that can shake you out of the din and movement of Vegas. At some point you have to evacuate to your hotel room, to the swimming pool or lounge. Just for some quiet, sleep. Where you can put out signs like this one:

And then the next day, recharged, you charge out seeking that fun innoculation you've been saving up for all year. The day outside beckoning from the elevator lobby, the noise from the street below never really dropping below a buzz of a bee hive.

After only three days of this my energy level had been sapped and couldn't be replaced. We'd shot guns, played slots, run along sidewalks, bought strippers and other girls drinks and all of that "trying too hard" energy hadn't quite boomeranged back into our bodies. On the third evening I had had enough. I liked experiencing it but I needed to just stand and watch -- like this couple -- from the sidewalk, as new planeloads of people seeking entertainment swarmed the streets.