Tourism

posted by Christopher James

We're back on the air after going deep black inside Area 51. And let me tell you, Dear Reader, have we got some information for you.

{{THIS BLOG HAS BEEN CENSORED BY THE U.S. GOVERNMENT}}

Wow! You read that here first!

But we've also gotten to see some really amazing unclassified sights, too. Like Cathedral Gorge, outside Panaca. The snowmelt made rivulets of mucky red-brown water that carved out the rock before our eyes. It was like a live action miniature Grand Canyon. We also went exploring through the Valley of Fire, a beautiful canyon of bright red sandstone thrust up and twisted by the forces that made the Great Basin. Huge slabs of crust are being uplifted and tilted here, creating the distinctive basin-and-range topography. (Note to teachers: geology and P.E. really ought to be taught simultaneously.)


Nevada's main industry is, of course, tourism and we are, of course, tourists. It's always intrigued me to understand why people are tourists. What do they get from it? One academic suggested that the architecture of the resort casino is a conceit between the guest and the company. The company leaves just enough of the seams and scaffolding visible so that the guest feels that they are still in control. The guest enjoys the privilege of losing himself in the company's purpose-built labyrinth, and willingly parts with oodles of cash.

Rachel, the town just outside the gates of Area 51, is a town that redefines tourism. It started as a mining camp (albeit much, much later than Pioche or Virginia City). Then things got weird. When a man told a Las Vegas TV station that he worked on alien space craft at Nellis and spied flying saucers along lonely Highway 375, seekers from all over came to see for themselves. Before long, the local bar was rechristened as the Little A'Le'Inn.

Locals regale visitors with stories of unexplainable incidents Army bombers, Zuni shamans who gave them their destiny, and the cowboy life that leads from one state to the next. Everyone's friendly, everyone's sincere. Is it all just stagecraft put on for my amusement? Over all our heads, meanwhile, international war gamers send down startling sonic booms. They repay the bartender appropriately the next morning.


Highway 375 has been officially named the Extraterrestrial Highway in honor of the many visitors. Geochachers, too, have started to visit. When GPS was opened for civilian use, they made a sport of finding hidden cairns all over the world. They come down the highway in minivans, and they stop to gawk at the mysterious Black Mailbox. Some think it's a means to communicate with entities from beyond our realm. Really, it's just the local rancher's mailstop. Some years ago he had to plant it in a cement foundation and make it bulletproof.

Now we find ourselves in another Nevada tourist town: Las Vegas. The Fremont Experience, a big light show meant to revitalize downtown, is used to sell us rum and classic rock. Overworked waitresses and bartenders and dealers and maids are everywhere. Again, I find myself wondering why I'm here, why are all these people here? Are we really here for the rum and classic rock and the pervasive (perverse?) sexual innuendo? "Come get some hot action with our loose slots!"


It's easy to get lost, but very hard to really lose yourself. For that experience, people will pay a hefty premium.

Location: Las Vegas
This post was modified from its original version. It incorrectly characterized the origins of Rachel.