New Girl in Town: A Reluctant Trip to Las Vegas

Until very recently, I had only been to Las Vegas once—and that hardly counts.

In 1997, my husband and I were on a road trip from Austin to Lake Tahoe and all points in between. As we approached Las Vegas, we had a modest plan: drive down the Strip, make one quick stop, and move on. Five years earlier, I had visited Luxor in Egypt and fallen completely in love with it. So naturally, I wanted to step inside the pyramid-shaped Luxor Hotel and Casino.

My husband was less enthusiastic. We compromised. He would pull up in front, I would dash inside, take a quick look, and we’d be on our way. Simple—not!

Traffic was gridlocked. The heat was blistering. Parking? Nonexistent. We abandoned the plan entirely, fled the city, and spent the night in Boulder City. My grand Luxor moment never happened—and, truth be told, I didn’t feel particularly cheated. In fact, I had no desire to return to Las Vegas. That is, until a few months ago.

My Sydney Lockhart mysteries won Best Mystery Series at the PenCraft Book Awards, and the ceremony was—of course—in Las Vegas. I had mixed feelings, but in the end, curiosity (and a sense of obligation) won out. I booked a two-night stay at the Four Queens Hotel and Casino, directly across from Binion’s Gambling Hall, where the ceremony would be held. This was in the older downtown district on Fremont Street, not the Strip. I told myself this location should be quieter. More manageable. That assumption lasted as soon as I stepped out of the Uber.

Fremont Street is its own kind of spectacle where daylight disappeared, and the sky became irrelevant. Sunglasses and earplugs, however, were essential—a covered promenade sealed beneath a massive LED canopy flashed and pulsated with the street music.

And avoiding casinos? Impossible. Every path—to restaurants, coffee shops, even the exit—leads through a casino. There was no “just passing through.” You are absorbed into a labyrinth of slot machines, blackjack tables, poker rooms, and bars. Getting from point A to point B became an exercise in navigation and persistence.

The day before the event, I ventured into Binion’s to locate the banquet room. What should have been a simple reconnaissance mission turned into a full-blown expedition. I circled the gaming floor more than once before locating the elevator. Then came the hallways—long, winding, and eerily disorienting. For a moment, I wondered if I might never find my way out.

The ceremony itself turned out to be more of an experience than I anticipated. It began with a full day of seminars. Because my email was on the blink, I never received the itinerary and ended up arriving a few minutes late. The first thing I saw when I slipped into the room was my author photo projected on a large screen, followed by the cover of Murder at the Pontchartrain, and then several more images pulled from my website. I quickly found a seat, hoping not to appear as though I were making a grand entrance.

The speakers that day were outstanding, and somewhere along the way, I realized I was genuinely glad I had come. The banquet that evening—complete with excellent food and surprisingly strong (and affordable) drinks—offered a lesson in humility. Dozens of awards were presented across a wide range of genres: memoir, children’s books, young adult, science fiction, romance, and historical fiction. Sitting among so many accomplished writers was both inspiring and grounding.

On my way back to my room that night, I heard a voice. It was Sydney, suggesting that Las Vegas is the perfect setting for a mystery. A place where time disappears, reality isn’t what it seems, and motives for murder abound. I knew she would feel right at home here, but I said no. She kept yammering and wouldn’t shut up until I finally said, “Well, maybe.”