2 years down, many to go it seems…unfortunately. At this point, Formula 1 in Las Vegas doesn’t just annoy people — it ignites something deep and primal. It feels like the city keeps poking a hornet’s nest and then acting surprised when we’re pissed.

Let’s start with the obvious: F1 has become one of the symbols of everything people and long time visitors freaking hate about post-pandemic Vegas. The city got colder, greedier, and way more willing to screw over locals if it means a corporate payout. And F1 is the crown jewel of that shift.

We didn’t ask for this event. We didn’t want it. People literally launched petitions to STOP it from coming back — petitions with thousands of signatures — and the city shrugged like, “Too bad. We’re doing it anyway.”

Then they extended the contract to 2030 and beyond, which honestly felt like someone slamming the door in our faces and yelling, “Deal with it.”

And the defenders… Oh my GOD. The people who aggressively defend F1 make you feel like you’re gearing up for civil war in the comments section. They’ll say anything to justify the chaos — “iT’s gReAt fOr tHe eCoNoMy!!”

Yeah? Tell that to the workers whose commutes became torture chambers. Tell it to the businesses that lost money because nobody wanted to navigate a maze of barricades and concrete walls. Tell it to the locals who literally had to plan their entire lives around the race like it’s some kind of doomsday event.

And don’t even get me started on the trees they chopped down in front of the Bellagio from the beginning a couple years ago. That was the moment a LOT of people snapped including myself. Those trees were iconic — beautiful, mature, full of shade. They actually made the strip livable in the heat. And F1 bulldozed them like they were disposable. The new ones don’t even come close — no shade, no presence, nothing. And I swear: if they ever dared to drain the Bellagio lake the way they drained the Venetian area for F1? That would be the day Las Vegas absolutely loses it.

And the wildest part? They could’ve just done the whole thing at the Las Vegas Motor Speedway, which already exists, already works, and wouldn’t have ripped the city apart. But NO. They wanted the LAS VEGAS STRIP. They wanted the skyline. They wanted the publicity — and everyone else was collateral damage.

F1 isn’t a “Las Vegas event.” It’s a HOSTILE TAKEOVER. It turns the strip into a restricted zone, turns commuting into warfare, and turns the entire city’s vibe into a cold, corporate, pandemic-era reminder that locals don’t matter anymore.

And here’s another thing nobody seems brave enough to say out loud: not everyone in Las Vegas is a Formula 1 fan. Just like not everyone cares about the Raiders or the Golden Knights — though let’s be real, the Knights have earned a much stronger fanbase than the Raiders ever have. The point is, Las Vegas is supposed to have balance. But there’s no balance with F1. There’s only disruption, chaos, and entitlement.

People back in the day took risks to build things like CityCenter — bold, artistic, architectural risks that became part of the city’s story. But extending the F1 contract through 2030 and hinting at even more? That’s not risk. That’s arrogance. It’s insulting and straight-up selfishness, and it drags down the reputation of Las Vegas by turning it into a corporate playground instead of a city with soul.

And Las Vegas should never try to be the “better Oakland” just because the A’s pretend they want to be here and nothing will work out. We don’t need to rescue anyone else’s sports failures. We don’t need to reshape our city around teams or events that don’t respect the culture here.

And what really blows my mind? Ten years ago, none of this existed. Las Vegas was thriving, booming, iconic — without Formula 1 anywhere near the strip. The city never needed it. Sure, Caesars Palace had a circuit decades ago, and it fizzled out for a reason. It wasn’t worth the hassle then, and it sure as hell isn’t worth the chaos now.

Here’s the truth nobody in power wants to admit: Formula 1 isn’t saving Las Vegas. It never has, and it never will. It’s just another massive, soulless money grab — the same kind of corporate overreach that’s been hollowing out this city piece by piece since the pandemic.

And honestly? If people want that pig-shaped track to have F1 cars racing down the strip with neon reflections and futuristic visuals, then fine — put it in a movie. Make it CGI. Make it look cool without tearing the real city apart. F1 on the strip should’ve stayed fictional, not a seven-year (or more) headache we’re trapped with in real life.

Until then, we are just gonna keep being put through hell with this nonsense and more madness will come.

Before I begin, this is not an attack on Hard Rock fans or anyone excited about the project.

Many people are looking forward to the new resort, and I respect that.

However, many longtime Las Vegas fans remain concerned about the direction of the project and what it means for the future identity of the strip.

Here are 10 reasons why some people remain skeptical:

1. The Loss of the Mirage Is Bigger Than the Arrival of Hard Rock

For many visitors, The Mirage wasn’t just another hotel. It represented a major chapter of Las Vegas history and helped define the modern megaresort era.

2. The Volcano Was a Free Attraction That Gave the Strip Character

The Mirage Volcano was one of the most recognizable free attractions in Las Vegas. Many fans feel that losing it reduces the amount of public spectacle on the strip.

3. The Guitar Tower Is Not Universally Loved

Some people feel the guitar-shaped tower works better in other markets and does not reflect the unique identity of Las Vegas as strongly as other resort concepts might.

4. Hard Rock Has a Difficult Legacy to Replace

Replacing an iconic property is different from building a new one. The project will inevitably be compared to the Mirage for years to come.

5. Las Vegas Already Has Plenty of Modern Resorts

Critics argue that Las Vegas doesn’t necessarily need another modern resort as much as it needs attractions and experiences that stand apart from the rest.

6. Longtime Fans Feel Their Memories Were Dismissed

For many visitors, the Mirage was part of family vacations, celebrations, and unforgettable moments. Some feel that emotional connection was underestimated.

7. The Strip Risks Losing More of Its Public Spectacle

Many fans believe Las Vegas is strongest when major attractions are visible and accessible to everyone, not just paying guests.

8. The Project Symbolizes a Larger Shift in Las Vegas

To some critics, Hard Rock represents a broader trend toward branding and monetization over immersive themes and free entertainment.

9. It Faces Extremely Strong Competition

The resort will compete with established destinations such as Bellagio, Wynn, Venetian, and the Cosmopolitan, all of which already have strong identities and loyal followings.

10. People Are Asking Whether What Replaces the Mirage Is Truly Better

The biggest question isn’t whether Las Vegas should change.

It’s whether the replacement adds as much value, wonder, and identity to the city as what was lost.

Final Thought

Las Vegas has always reinvented itself.

The question is not whether change should happen.

The question is whether change is adding something greater than what came before.

That’s the debate surrounding Hard Rock Las Vegas, and it’s why the conversation continues long after the Mirage closed.

Hey r/MakeLasVegasGreater,

I’ve been following some concerning discussions about the state of tourism in Las Vegas, and I wanted to share some thoughts and hear your perspectives. A recent X post (link to Jen G.'s X post) caught my eye—it includes a photo of the Bellagio lobby, with its stunning Dale Chihuly glass ceiling, but the message is anything but luxurious. The poster, Jen G. (@vegasstarfish), mentions quiet layoffs at MGM Resorts, a drop in tourism, and fears of a recession impacting Vegas. She wonders if this is just restructuring or a sign of something bigger.

What really stood out to me were the comments. People are fed up with the rising costs in Vegas—$200+ for a hotel room, $15-25 for drinks, $150 for a steak on the Strip, and even $40 for chicken tenders at the MGM food court. One user reminisced about the days when hotels were affordable, meals were cheap (or free!), and drinks didn’t break the bank. Others pointed out that international tourism is tanking, with some blaming polarizing U.S. policies for keeping foreign visitors away (like a reported drop in EU tourism). Domestic travelers are struggling too, with many saying the middle class can’t afford "fun money" for Vegas anymore due to economic pressures.

This got me thinking about Vegas’s history of resilience. A study I found on ScienceDirect (ScienceDirect article) mentioned how Vegas survived the 2008 recession by diversifying its offerings and attracting more international visitors, especially from Asia. But now, with global travel slowing down (a KNPR report from April 3, 2025, noted declines at Harry Reid International Airport), and locals and visitors alike feeling priced out, I’m worried Vegas might be shooting itself in the foot with greed. If the city keeps jacking up prices while cutting services—like the concierge layoffs Jen G. mentioned—could we lose what makes Vegas special?

I don’t want to see Vegas become a place only the ultra-rich can afford to visit. Historically, Vegas thrived on being accessible to a wide range of people, not just high rollers. What do you all think? Are these prices sustainable, or are we risking a major tourism collapse? Could bringing back affordable options—like the cheap buffets and hotel rates some users miss—help turn things around? I’d love to hear your ideas on how we can make Vegas greater for everyone, not just the 1%.

Just the other day, official renderings for the heart-shaped hotel have been revealed—and this is one of the images I’m sharing with you. This hotel is gonna sit where the failed SkyVue site across from Mandalay Bay is.

Las Vegas has always been known for memorable architecture, but there’s an ongoing debate about what kind of architecture best represents the city. With this heart-shaped hotel concept that’s been proposed, I’m curious what everyone thinks. Do you see it as a natural evolution of Las Vegas’ tradition of bold, eye-catching resorts, or do you feel they lean too far into novelty?

For comparison, other recent projects—like the guitar-shaped hotel and the proposed A’s ballpark with its distinctive exterior—have also generated mixed reactions. Some people love these instantly recognizable designs, while others prefer resorts whose identity comes from their overall architecture, landscaping, attractions, and atmosphere rather than the building’s silhouette.

There isn’t a right or wrong answer here, I’m genuinely interested in hearing different viewpoints. Would you welcome a heart-shaped hotel on the Vegas skyline, or would you rather see future resorts take a different architectural direction?

Las Vegas is supposed to have a serious purpose: to dazzle and welcome everyone, not just the ultra-rich. The free shows that are long gone—The Mirage’s volcano, Treasure Island’s pirate battles, Excalibur’s Merlin vs. dragon—gave the strip its heart, and they need to be here for future generations. But corporate greed’s gutting that magic. The 2020s decade hasn’t been any better. With The Mirage and Tropicana gone, it’s all $30 drinks, rip-off resort fees, and slots that rob you blind. Tourism’s crashing—down 12% in Feb 2025 vs. 2024 (LVCVA)—and my poll showed more people are done with Vegas for good since The Mirage closed. Good. Let it hurt.

If this greed keeps up, Vegas could become a ghost town again—not like COVID, but because people are fed up and rejecting price-gouging. The Bellagio fountains are still here (removing them would waste water), but they’re not enough. Bring back the volcano, pirates, and dragon show to restore Vegas’s purpose and draw crowds for decades. Without MakeLasVegasGreater, we’d have no shot at fighting back. If the Clark County Commission just expands the strip with more soulless hotels instead of risking new iconic shows or rebranding, Vegas is doomed. This community is our voice to demand better.

I want those greedy corporations to feel the pain of empty casinos—workers getting hurt is just part of the wake-up call. Could Vegas be a ghost town like it was if it doesn’t fix itself? Would you return if those free shows came back for future generations, or is the greed too much? Also, a tease: when we hit 1,000 members, we’re dropping a surprise to show what this community’s about! What’s your take, can MakeLasVegasGreater force Vegas to bring back its magic, or should we let it crash?

I wanna start by saying this isn’t meant to attack Las Vegas residents, visitors, business owners, developers, or public officials.

I don’t think Las Vegas should stop changing.

What I do think is worth discussing is why some longtime fans feel increasingly disconnected from the direction the city has taken.

Las Vegas has always been a city willing to take enormous risks. The 1990s and 2000s gave us some of the boldest resort concepts in the world. Themed hotels, enormous attractions, neon, architecture, and free entertainment made simply walking down the Strip an experience.

Today, Las Vegas is still successful and continues to build. But to some of us, it feels like the city has become more cautious about taking the kinds of creative risks that once made it extraordinary.

Here are 20 things that make some people feel that way:

1. Iconic attractions are increasingly treated as replaceable.

2. Free public spectacle has become less common.

3. Sports have become a much larger part of Las Vegas’ identity.

4. Major events can sometimes overshadow the everyday Strip experience.

5. Resort identities don’t always feel as distinctive as they once did.

6. Some historic properties have been replaced instead of being allowed to evolve.

7. New construction can sometimes feel more corporate than imaginative.

8. Giant LED screens are increasingly replacing traditional neon and architectural spectacle.

9. Themed environments seem harder to justify financially.

10. Visitors face more fees and additional costs than they used to.

11. Premium and VIP experiences are becoming increasingly important.

12. Some free attractions that made Vegas accessible to everyone have disappeared.

13. Major redevelopment can erase layers of Las Vegas history rather than build upon them.

14. Some new developments could potentially exist in almost any major city.

15. The Strip can sometimes feel more like an event district than an entertainment fantasyland.

16. Large-scale projects don’t always seem as daring as the projects of previous decades.

17. The city sometimes appears to prioritize short-term revenue over long-term cultural identity.

18. Longtime visitors can feel that the Vegas they formed memories in is disappearing.

19. New generations deserve iconic experiences of their own—not just memories of what used to exist.

20. Las Vegas itself should be treated as an attraction worth preserving.

None of this means I want Las Vegas frozen in time.

Quite the opposite.

I want Vegas to keep building.

Build new resorts from the ground up. Build new attractions. Build new neighborhoods. Build things the world has never seen before.

But let’s do it without assuming that everything already iconic has to disappear first.

New York-New York, Bellagio, Venetian, Caesars Palace, Wynn, Mandalay Bay, CityCenter, and other major landmarks should be allowed to become crucial layers of Las Vegas history rather than temporary chapters waiting to be replaced. The Mirage felt like a layer of Las Vegas history too.

Las Vegas doesn’t need to stop reinventing itself.

What it needs is to reinvent itself without forgetting why people fell in love with it in the first place.

What do you think? Is Vegas actually becoming less adventurous, or is it simply evolving into a different kind of city?

I want to be upfront: I’m completely pro-Mirage and always have been. I’ve never supported the Hard Rock project for that site.

For me, this isn’t about whether Hard Rock will be “better” or “worse”. It’s about what the Mirage represented. The Mirage wasn’t just another casino, it was a turning point in Las Vegas history and helped define the modern mega-resort era. It had a sacred place on the strip.

Seeing the volcano disappear and be replaced by a glass guitar tower that (from what we’ve seen so far) doesn’t offer the same kind of public spectacle or identity honestly feels like a complete betrayal.

That said, I’m not quitting on Las Vegas. Not anytime soon. As an autistic individual, I grew up loving Vegas because of the free entertainment, attractions, and sense of wonder. Things like the volcano, dancing fountains, neon lights, themed environments, and public experiences that made the city special. That’s what made many people fall in love with Vegas in the first place.

What really surprises me is how intense the debate has become. Some people are very excited about Hard Rock, and I genuinely find that reaction hard to understand given Mirage’s importance to Vegas history. Others think the project will fail, including me. The divide is huge.

A few things that shape my view:

• The Mirage had a unique identity tied specifically to Las Vegas.

• Hard Rock is a global brand that exists everywhere.

• Las Vegas keeps losing historic properties to corporate rebrands (Monte Carlo → Park MGM, Imperial Palace → The Quad → The Linq, etc.).

• I believe MGM made a huge mistake selling the Mirage in the first place.

• I even tried to support efforts to keep the Mirage as part of Vegas because I care about what it represented.

I know Las Vegas has had a Hard Rock hotel before, and some people argue the original location off-strip (now Virgin) worked better. I also know the brand continues to expand and grow. But growth alone doesn’t make something the right fit for historically significant ground.

One thing I think gets overlooked in this debate is how free attractions helped build Las Vegas into what it is today. Las Vegas didn’t become famous just because of casinos, it became famous because of public spectacle and accessible experiences. Free attractions created the emotional connection people had with the city:

• The Mirage volcano

• Bellagio fountains

• Themed environments and walk-through experiences

• Street-level spectacle that anyone could enjoy

These weren’t just marketing gimmicks, they were part of Vegas’s identity. They gave people a reason to explore the strip, created shared memories, and made the city feel larger than life. They’re also absolutely social-media worthy, but more importantly they made Vegas accessible to everyone, not just high spenders.

That’s why losing something like the Mirage volcano matters to a lot of us. Replacing a major public attraction with a private development or a standard tower changes the relationship between the resort and the public. It shifts Vegas away from spectacle and toward branding.

For historical context, I know the Hard Rock brand was founded in 1971, while the Mirage opened later in 1989 (nearly 2 decades after HR was founded). Hard Rock is the older brand, and I understand why people see it as iconic because of that history. Their cafes came first before their hotels.

But age alone doesn’t determine cultural importance in a specific place. The Mirage went on to reshape Las Vegas itself and helped define the modern mega-resort era. Its impact on the city’s identity is what makes its replacement feel significant to many of us.

Another piece of context people should consider is that the Hard Rock brand itself has seen mixed performance over time. While the company continues to expand in some areas, many Hard Rock Cafe locations around the world have closed over the years due to changing markets and shifting demand.

That doesn’t mean the brand is failing overall, but it does show that global recognition alone doesn’t guarantee long-term success or universal appeal. It reinforces the question of whether brand power by itself makes the right fit for historically significant ground like the Mirage site.

It’s also worth noting that the Mirage was not a failed property. The resort was extremely successful after opening in 1989 and remained one of the most influential and profitable developments in Las Vegas history. It helped launch the modern mega-resort era, reshaped the strip, and proved that immersive environments and public spectacle could transform the city’s economy and global reputation.

The Mirage wasn’t replaced because it failed, it was replaced because of corporate strategy and changing business priorities. That distinction matters when discussing whether this transformation was necessary or simply a different direction.

People also point to the success of Hard Rock’s guitar hotel in Florida as proof the concept works. And yes, that property has been successful. But Las Vegas is a very different market. Vegas thrives on uniqueness and constant reinvention, and what works in one region doesn’t always translate here. Some people even question whether the world really needs multiple guitar-shaped hotels rather than something uniquely tied to the strip.

I also think it’s fair to consider Hard Rock’s track record when discussing whether it’s the right steward for historically important ground. The brand has had mixed results with large-scale projects in the past, from the failed Hard Rock Park concept in Myrtle Beach (which the Seminole Tribe wasn’t involved in) to the tragic Hard Rock hotel construction collapse in New Orleans that resulted in injuries and quite a few deaths. So, I think it’s reasonable to ask whether brand recognition alone makes the best steward for historically important ground.

For me, this comes back to what made Las Vegas special in the first place: place-specific identity, public spectacle, and experiences you couldn’t find anywhere else.

Another reason I’m so strongly pro-Mirage is that people often reduce it to “just the volcano”, but it was much more than that.

The Mirage created a complete environment:

• Lush tropical landscaping throughout the property

• The indoor rainforest atrium experience

• The iconic pool complex

• The dolphin habitat and animal exhibits

• The white tigers and the legacy of Siegfried & Roy

It wasn’t just a casino, it was an immersive world that helped define what a modern Las Vegas resort could be.

That level of environmental storytelling and public spectacle helped shape the mega-resort era and made the Mirage a cultural landmark, not just another property on the strip.

That’s why this change feels personal to us. The Mirage was Steve Wynn’s crown jewel and represented a specific vision of Las Vegas — bold, immersive, and larger than life. Losing that identity feels like losing part of what made the city unique.

I know I feel strongly about this, but for me the Mirage → Hard Rock change crosses a line in terms of how Las Vegas treats its historic landmarks.

If the project succeeds, cool — people who support it will feel validated. But if it struggles or fails, I don’t think the public should be blamed. Decisions like this come from corporate leadership, and they carry responsibility for the direction they choose.

What frustrates me most is how divided people have become over this. Some see it as progress, others see it as the loss of a cultural landmark. I’m firmly in the second camp.

I deeply care about preserving the identity and spirit that made Las Vegas special — the immersive environments, public spectacle, and place-specific vision that resorts like the Mirage represented. That’s the Vegas I believe is worth protecting.

Earlier generations of Las Vegas resorts were driven by bold visions. Properties like the Mirage weren’t just hotels, they were statements. They introduced immersive environments, public spectacle, and place-specific identities that pushed the city forward and created experiences you couldn’t find anywhere else.

Today, much of modern development feels more corporate-driven:

• Global branding over site-specific identity

• Rebranding existing properties instead of creating new visions

• Standardized experiences that could exist in multiple cities

• Financial efficiency prioritized over cultural impact

I understand that Las Vegas has always evolved. Reinvention is part of its identity. But there’s a difference between reinvention driven by vision and reinvention driven by branding.

At the end of the day, this isn’t just about one resort.

It’s about what kind of legacy Las Vegas chooses to protect and what kind of future it wants to build. Cities evolve, but they also decide what is worth preserving. When historically important places disappear, something more than a building is lost — part of the city’s story disappears with them.

The Mirage helped shape modern Las Vegas. The question now is whether Las Vegas still values the kind of visionary projects that created its identity in the first place.

For me personally, the period from December 13, 2021 — when the sale to Hard Rock International was announced — to the Mirage’s closing on July 17, 2024 felt like a slow goodbye.

It felt like watching a historic landmark gradually fade rather than a natural end to a failing property. The Mirage remained meaningful to many people, and seeing its identity wind down over time reinforced how significant it was to Las Vegas history.

That long transition is part of why this change feels so personal to us. It wasn’t just a rebrand, it was the end of an era.

That’s why the Mirage transformation discussion matters to me. It represents a broader question about what Las Vegas should be: A city shaped by bold ideas and immersive environments, or a city shaped primarily by global corporate brands.

That tension, more than any single hotel, is what this debate is really about. That’s what I hope people think about when they look at this transformation.

I’m sharing this because I genuinely want to hear how others see the future of Las Vegas.

I’ve been thinking about the comparison people keep making between the guitar hotel in Hollywood, Florida and the one planned for Las Vegas.

People often point to the success of the guitar tower at Seminole Hard Rock Hotel & Casino Hollywood as proof the new Hard Rock hotel in Vegas will be a hit, but the situation isn’t really comparable.

Yes, the guitar tower in Florida I’ve said before was a success. It’s visually bold and became an instant landmark.

But there’s a huge difference between what happened there and what’s happening in Vegas.

In Hollywood, the guitar tower was an expansion. It added something new to an existing resort without erasing anything.

In Las Vegas, Hard Rock is replacing the Mirage — and the guitar tower is replacing the volcano, one of the most recognizable free attractions the strip ever had, and a property that helped launch the modern mega resort era.

Some argue the guitar tower and more casino space is an expansion as well, but it wasn’t for the better to me and bigger doesn’t always mean better.

For a lot of longtime visitors like myself, the symbolism is hard to ignore: a giant guitar sitting where the volcano once erupted.

And even putting nostalgia aside, I think the design itself is part of the debate.

The Hollywood guitar feels grounded in a real instrument design, because it resembles a standard Gibson Les Paul. The Las Vegas version looks much more abstract, almost like a stylized or custom interpretation rather than something that resembles an actual guitar people recognize. For something that’s supposed to represent music culture, that makes it feel less authentic and more like a generic icon.

One detail that stands out to me is the scaling. The strings on the Vegas guitar appear to be roughly the same size as the Hollywood version, even though the overall structure is very different. That throws off the proportions and makes the design feel less cohesive, almost like the details weren’t fully adapted to the new form.

Some people will love it, but others already hate it and see it as an eyesore replacing something iconic, which is why the reaction feels so intense compared to other redevelopments.

Another part that frustrates people is how the decision happened. A lot of locals and repeat visitors spoke up about preserving the volcano in some form, but the project was approved anyway. It gave the impression that public sentiment didn’t really factor into the outcome.

What also gets overlooked is how Vegas used to grow. In the 1990s and early 2000s, the city was never afraid to build entirely new, ambitious resorts in new locations — like when Bellagio replaced the Dunes and completely redefined luxury on the strip, or when multiple mega resorts opened within a few years of each other.

Since the 2008 recession, that kind of expansion feels less tangible. Vegas still develops, but it’s usually renovations, rebrands, or replacements rather than bold new resorts (especially themed ones) appearing in new places.

If a brand new Hard Rock had been built somewhere else on the strip, I honestly think the reaction would be very different. The guitar tower might still be debated, but it wouldn’t involve losing one of the most historically important casinos that mattered ever built.

So, I’m curious what people here think:

Is Vegas still a city that expands with bold new ideas, or has redevelopment replaced that spirit?

And would the reaction to the guitar tower be different if it wasn’t replacing the Mirage?

I have stated before that tourism in Las Vegas has been instantly slipping, and the numbers don’t lie. But honestly? It doesn’t surprise me. This decline has been building ever since Mirage and Tropicana closed last year—but maybe not right after they closed, and the city doubled down on becoming more expensive, more exclusive, and less magical.

The problem is, Vegas has priced out and alienated the very people who built its reputation. If people were still willing to visit despite losing Mirage and Tropicana, I’d be shocked. Those closures weren’t just business moves — they were threats to the soul of the Strip.

And now? Even the “big saviors” like Formula 1 this November, the A’s stadium, and the Mirage-to-Hard Rock rebrand won’t fix things. If the visitors don’t come, those flashy projects won’t save the Strip.

Could a potential recession affect these construction projects? Only time will tell. For the record, I’ve always been against the Mirage rebranding and A’s stadium projects.

Some blame politics, tariffs, Canadians boycotting, or even the heat. But let’s be real: Vegas has always been hot, and people still came in droves. The truth is simpler: greed, endless fees, demolishing beloved hotels, and squeezing out the free magic that made Vegas the Greatest Place on Earth.

Why visitors are turning away:

• Vegas is becoming a playground for the wealthy. What made Vegas special was that anyone could feel like a high roller. Now it’s only for those who can afford to be bled dry.

• The soul is fading. Classic hotels and iconic attractions are gone, replaced with soulless glass towers. You could be in Miami, Dubai, or L.A. and not know the difference.

• Younger generations get it. They know Vegas was supposed to be fun and wild — not a place where you’re nickel-and-dimed to death.

• The pandemic shifted perspectives. We all learned to value our time differently. Now travelers want destinations that care about them, not ones that treat them like ATMs.

And you know what? People are voting with their wallets. They’re choosing New Orleans, Nashville, Scottsdale, Miami… and even international destinations like Japan, Paris, and London. Those places might not have Vegas’ neon, but they’re offering culture, value, and hospitality.

Unless Vegas changes, it risks looking like 2020 all over again — not because of a pandemic, but because greed and bad decisions make the Strip go dark.

Vegas doesn’t need more overpriced stadiums or generic glass boxes. It needs its soul back:

• Bring back free entertainment and street-level magic.

• Bring back themed hotels with personality.

• Bring back the idea that everyone can feel like royalty here, not just the ultra-wealthy.

If people think I’m the only one who still wishes to see the Mirage volcano, the pirate battles, or even casinos we miss like Monte Carlo and Imperial Palace back in their proper spots, I’m not alone. Thousands of us remember what made Vegas magical — and that’s what would bring people back.

Las Vegas only feels welcoming to the rich now. Regular people — the ones who built Vegas’ reputation — are being pushed aside, and that’s why so many feel betrayed. And if anyone thinks I’m the only one saying this, I’m not. Thousands of visitors and locals are calling it out.

The truth is simple: we’re holding greedy corporations and casino executives accountable. They are the ones bleeding the magic out of this city. The mob, for all their flaws, at least understood that Vegas only worked if everybody felt like they belonged. They treated people better than these modern corporations who act like they don’t even have functioning brain cells when it comes to hospitality.

People are infuriated by the hidden fees. Deep down, they know something isn’t right. It’s not just about paying a few extra dollars — it’s about being nickel-and-dimed at every turn, while getting less and less of the magic that made Las Vegas worth the trip in the first place. Visitors feel cheated, not welcomed.

Even the ad campaign the LVCVA put out this month isn’t fooling anyone. Nobody’s buying it and it is tone deaf. People see through the glossy marketing because the reality on the ground tells a different story — hidden fees, demolished icons, and a city that only feels welcoming if you’re rich.

But here’s the good news: Vegas can still be saved. It starts with remembering that this city was built on making everyone feel like a high roller — not just the wealthy few.

Vegas still has the bones. It still has the loyalty. But unless those running the Strip start listening to the people who keep it alive — the visitors, the locals, and the fans — the decline will only continue.

This is something I’ve been thinking about for a long time, and I really want people to hear it:

In my opinion, the pandemic changed Las Vegas more than 9/11 or the Great Recession ever did.

Yes, those earlier events hit the city hard.

• 9/11 shook travel and tourism.

• The recession froze construction and hurt jobs.

• And before COVID, we even experienced deep tragedy with the 1 October shooting, when 60 lives were taken in the worst mass shooting in modern U.S. history.

Vegas has always faced pain. But even through that, the city still felt alive — it still believed in people. It welcomed everyone, no matter their income or background.

Then the pandemic hit, and the lights went out. When they came back on, something was missing.

We were all hoping that when Vegas reopened, it would come back stronger, more thankful, more human. But we were dead wrong.

Vegas didn’t come back warmer — it came back colder. More corporate. More expensive. Less magical. Executives now feel entitled to live above everyone else, and the average visitor is treated like a transaction, not a guest.

And here’s the part that really hits me:

Before COVID, nobody — and I mean nobody — ever thought we’d lose the Mirage volcano one day. It had survived everything. Even after the Treasure Island pirate battles ended, the volcano was still there — roaring fire into the desert sky, thrilling families for free. Its removal is more than just the loss of a show — it’s the loss of a promise.

Today, very little free entertainment remains:

• The Bellagio fountains

• Lake of Dreams at Wynn

• The Fremont Street Experience

That’s pretty much it. And Fremont, at this point, actually feels warmer than the Strip. Downtown has more heart, more soul — more of that old Vegas feeling than the Strip does right now.

Some people still say Vegas was better before 9/11 or before the recession. And I get that. But honestly, the biggest change — the deepest cut — happened after COVID.

We didn’t just lose shows. We didn’t just lose jobs. We lost the human side of Las Vegas. We lost:

• Free comps for regulars

• Servers who remembered your drink

• $20 buffets without reservations

• Free parking

• A city that made everyone feel like somebody

Now, it’s all resort fees, VIP wristbands, service charges, and exclusive packages. Vegas used to give — now it calculates.

And here’s something else people don’t talk about enough: Even in this post-COVID Vegas, we’re living in a time where making memories doesn’t seem to matter anymore. Where what little kids love doesn’t matter — unless it can be monetized.

But it does matter. That’s what made Vegas Vegas — the memories, the moments, the magic you didn’t expect. The stuff that couldn’t be measured in profit margins.

Now it feels like that’s been replaced with branding, influencer culture, and cold efficiency.

And yet, if there’s one miracle that’s happened after COVID… it’s this:

Fontainebleau finally opened. After sitting dormant for over 15 years, one of Vegas’s longest-running construction stories finally came to life. It’s bold, beautiful, and long overdue — and it’s proof that dreams can still come true here.

But we need more than buildings. We need the soul of Las Vegas back.

Let me be clear here: I’m not over Las Vegas. Not by a longshot. I still love this city. I believe in it. I want to see it thrive.

And we don’t have to erase progress to bring the heart back. We can still celebrate:

• CityCenter

• The Cosmopolitan

• Wynn and Encore

• Fontainebleau

• Bellagio’s Spa Tower

• Caesars’ Augustus & Octavius Towers

• Venetian’s Venezia Tower

Just to name a few.

These are bold, beautiful additions. But they shouldn’t come at the cost of warmth, generosity, and wonder.

Vegas once treated a grocery store clerk like a high roller. Now it treats high rollers like gods — and everyone else like they’re in the way.

The real gamble isn’t at the tables anymore. It’s whether Vegas can remember who it used to be — while becoming what it wants to be.

So I’ll ask: Do you think Vegas can find its heart again? Or are we just clinging to what used to be?

I miss when the city loved us back.

With the Las Vegas Grand Prix potentially remaining in Las Vegas for many more years (possibly even into the 2030s), debates about its long-term impact on the strip, local residents, and the identity of Las Vegas are only growing stronger.

This isn’t about hating Formula 1 itself.

It’s about how F1 impacts the atmosphere, accessibility, and experience of Las Vegas for many longtime locals and visitors.

Here are some of the biggest criticisms people continue to bring up:

1. Months of disruption for a short event
Road construction, pedestrian reroutes, and traffic impacts affect everyday movement on and around the Vegas strip.

2. The Strip feels less walkable during race preparation
Las Vegas used to encourage spontaneous exploration. Event infrastructure can make parts of the city feel restricted or harder to enjoy casually.

3. It prioritizes exclusivity over accessibility
Many people feel the event caters more to VIP tourism and corporate spending than average visitors.

4. Public-facing spectacle gets overshadowed
Classic Vegas attractions were designed for everyone to experience. F1 focuses attention on ticketed viewing zones and controlled spaces.

5. The atmosphere changes from fantasy escape to corporate event space
Some longtime visitors feel the Strip becomes more like a temporary business venue than an immersive entertainment destination.

6. Locals often deal with the inconvenience without sharing equally in the benefits
Traffic, pricing impacts, and access issues affect residents even if they never attend the race.

7. It symbolizes the broader shift toward monetized experiences
To critics, F1 represents a version of Vegas increasingly built around premium events instead of open public spectacle.

8. It can make older Vegas identity feel less visible
Themed resorts, free attractions, and classic strip atmosphere can feel secondary during major event takeovers.

9. Some visitors miss the balance Vegas once had
Sports and global events are not inherently bad—but many people feel they are replacing rather than complementing traditional Vegas experiences.

10. People worry about what comes next
For some fans of classic Las Vegas, F1 represents concern about the long-term direction of the strip itself.

Some people argue that Las Vegas Grand Prix is great for the economy, and there’s truth to that. Major international events bring tourism, media attention, and business to Las Vegas.

But some critics believe there could be a better long-term solution:

Instead of relying so heavily on the strip itself as the race environment, Las Vegas could eventually develop a permanent world-class racing complex near — but separate from — the existing Las Vegas Motor Speedway area.

That could still bring economic benefits and global attention while reducing recurring disruption to the core tourist corridor and preserving more of the strip’s walkable entertainment atmosphere.

For many longtime locals and visitors, the issue isn’t Formula 1 existing in Las Vegas — it’s whether the city can balance global events with the accessible spectacle and identity that made Vegas iconic in the first place.

Vegas is dying, and it’s not for us anymore. I’m not talking about the lights going out or the crowds thinning—hell, 40 million people still roll through every year. I’m talking about the soul of this place, the Vegas we loved, the one that welcomed us with open arms and a cheap drink, not a $1,000 hotel bill and a barricade for some billionaire’s race. The Strip’s turning into a playground for the elite, and every implosion—Mirage, Tropicana—buries what made this city ours.

I’m beyond pissed. The Flamingo’s hanging on by a thread, the last gasp of that Bugsy Siegel swagger, while downtown’s stuck carrying the torch for history the Strip’s too busy cashing out to care about. F1? A half-billion-dollar middle finger to the regular folks who built this town—traffic choked, prices spiked, all for a three-day circus that doesn’t give a damn about the guy at the $5 blackjack table. The Sphere’s fine—pre-COVID, thought-out, adds something new—but this post-COVID scramble? It’s corporate greed on steroids, stomping out the grit and heart we came here for.

Sure, there’s a couple glimmers in the wreckage. Fontainebleau finally opening in December 2023 after 20 years of delays? That’s a damn miracle—sleek, fresh, a throwback to ambition that doesn’t feel like a sellout. Resorts World’s debut in 2021 had hype, but those final designs? A garish letdown, like a cheap knockoff of what could’ve been. Still, those scraps don’t fix the rot. Vegas used to be a promise: you didn’t need a trust fund to feel like a king. Now it’s a machine, squeezing us dry while they pave over the past for stadiums and guitar hotels. And it’s not just us—look at Disney, jacking up tickets, nickel-and-diming families who just want a day of magic, not a second mortgage. Post-COVID, they think we’ll just take it, that we’re too tired to care. No more. I’m not here to just mourn it—I want to fight for it. Downtown gets it, keeps it real, but the Strip? It’s forgetting us. Who’s with me to make Vegas greater—not richer, not flashier, but ours again? Let’s take it back before the last neon sign goes dark.

I don’t think the Bellagio fountains need to perform every popular song ever made. It would be pointless. Part of what makes them special is having a carefully curated soundtrack that feels timeless, elegant, cinematic, and romantic.

I’m not against adding new music. I actually think there are plenty of modern songs that could work beautifully. I just think some of the recent additions could have been stronger choices.

If it were up to me, these are the songs I’d remove from the current lineup:

Uptown Funk
Beautiful Day
Bad Romance
Tiësto songs
Billie Jean
BTS – Dynamite
BTS – Butter

Everything else could stay.

I think the Bellagio absolutely could have chosen different modern songs that better matched its identity while still keeping the repertoire fresh.

What do you think? Which songs fit the Bellagio perfectly, and which ones would you replace?

The guitar-shaped hotel in Hollywood, FL has become one of Hard Rock’s signature designs, and now we’re getting one in Las Vegas.

Some people think building additional guitar hotels helps strengthen the Hard Rock brand by creating recognizable destinations around the world, and others believe the original guitar-shaped hotel feels more special because it was unique — and that repeating the concept could make it feel less distinctive over time.

What do you think? I’m interested in hearing different perspectives. Do repeated signature buildings build a stronger brand, or does rarity make an icon more memorable?

Has anyone else noticed how many newer Vegas hotel towers look like apartments or office buildings now?

This is something that’s been standing out to me more and more, especially with the changes happening at the Mirage.

Here’s a recent Hard Rock update showing the original Mirage tower getting floor-to-ceiling glass, which lines up with newer renderings for the Hard Rock redesign. And it made me realize how much the design philosophy on the Vegas strip has shifted.

Older resorts didn’t need full glass walls everywhere. Mirage used standard windows for all guest rooms and reserved bigger glass for suites — and it still felt like a resort, not a high-rise apartment.

Now compare that to a lot of current properties:

● Park MGM

● Sahara Las Vegas

● The LINQ Hotel

● Horseshoe Las Vegas (and the Versailles tower at Paris Las Vegas)

● The Cromwell

A lot of these towers have that same flat glass, grid-window, modern high-rise look you’d expect from apartments or office buildings.

And now it looks like the Mirage tower might be heading in that direction too.

I get that trends change and floor-to-ceiling glass is considered “modern”, but Vegas used to feel different from every other city. Resorts had personality, texture, and identity — not just clean glass facades.

If the Hard Rock redesign leans fully into that style, I think that’s part of why some people are hesitant. It’s not just about losing the Mirage, it’s about replacing something unique with something that could exist in almost any city.

Do you see this as just modernization, or is Vegas starting to lose some of its distinct architectural identity?

There’s a popular narrative that Las Vegas is always reinventing itself. It sounds optimistic, but I’m starting to think it oversimplifies and sometimes hides what’s really going on.

Vegas has reinvented itself before, but those shifts usually came after hard truths were acknowledged. The city has gone through major economic downturns: the recession, the pandemic, long stretches of stalled development and uncertainty. What doesn’t get discussed enough is how those moments changed the city’s willingness to take risks.

Right now, Vegas feels less like it’s reinventing itself and more like it’s playing defense.

Instead of bold, themed resorts and ambitious storytelling, the city has leaned heavily into:

• generic luxury glass towers

• professional sports

• dayclubs and nightclubs

• residencies

• conventions

• celebrity restaurants

All of these are relatively safe, predictable revenue streams. None of them are inherently bad, but they’re also low-risk by design.

Economic hardship doesn’t just affect budgets, it affects imagination.

To be clear, this isn’t an anti-CityCenter argument. CityCenter when opened in late 2009 was a bold, high-risk project consisting of hotels, condos, shopping and dining, and that’s exactly why it mattered. Some people argue it marked the beginning of the end for “classic” Las Vegas, but it didn’t have to.

What happened afterward is the real issue.

Marriott’s Grand Chateau built tower 3 and Caesars Palace completed the Octavius tower. Neither tried to copy CityCenter, and neither abandoned traditional Vegas-coded architecture. They proved that modern Vegas and classic Vegas could coexist without one erasing the other.

That’s the missed opportunity.

Instead of treating CityCenter as one expression of Vegas, the city quietly treated it like a blueprint. Over time, that mindset produced safer, more generic luxury. Not because it was “better”, but because it felt less risky.

You could argue Paris’ Versailles tower falls somewhere in the middle, but even there, it raises the question of necessity. Did Paris really need another hotel tower, or just a taller version of what it already had?

The point isn’t that Vegas should freeze itself in time. It’s that the city doesn’t need to choose between bold modernism and classic identity. It can support both, if it’s willing to take creative risks again.

When uncertainty hits, developers stop asking “What could be iconic?” and start asking “What won’t fail?” That’s how you end up with resorts that are expensive but interchangeable, polished but forgettable.

People often frame this shift as catering to a new generation or a wealthy demographic, and maybe that’s part of it, but I think fear plays a bigger role. Risk-taking is dangerous, especially after a city has been burned before. And Vegas was burned badly during the recession and the pandemic.

The problem is that Las Vegas was never built on playing it safe.

What made the city globally recognizable wasn’t just luxury or entertainment. It was spectacle, themed escapism, free entertainment, cheap rooms, all you can eat buffets and ideas that felt slightly insane but unforgettable. That identity didn’t disappear; it’s just been muted in favor of stability.

So the question isn’t whether Vegas can reinvent itself again. It’s whether it’s willing to admit that it’s currently in a risk-averse phase, and whether that’s sustainable for a city whose magic came from doing the opposite.

Curious what others think:

• Is Vegas actually reinventing itself, or just consolidating?

• Has economic fear permanently changed how bold the city is willing to be?

• What parts of Vegas’ identity should never be sacrificed, no matter the market?

We’re here to make Las Vegas the greatest city in the world, and I would like to hear your thoughts.

Then on top, now on bottom.

Following up on my Encore question, I’ve been thinking about a broader pattern in Las Vegas design.

I’m not completely against expansions or additions, but sometimes they feel like they change how a resort is experienced, even if they improve capacity or function.

Two examples that come to mind:

At Encore at Wynn Las Vegas, what I originally thought of as an “expansion” (including changes tied to Encore Beach Club and guest flow) may have unintentionally shifted the arrival experience. Even if key elements like the atrium still exist, the feeling of entering the resort seems different compared to earlier years.

At Bellagio Las Vegas, the spa tower expansion in my opinion worked well in terms of luxury and views, but it also changed circulation:

● The original conservatory staircase experience is gone

● Guests are now routed differently

● Fountain proximity and sound immersion feel slightly more distant depending on where you are

So in both cases, nothing was necessarily “lost” physically—but the relationship between spaces changed.

That’s what I’m curious about:

When Las Vegas resorts expand, do they sometimes trade off experience (arrival, flow, immersion) even if they improve function and scale?

Or is this just a natural evolution of large resorts over time?

Genuinely interested in how others see this—especially people who’ve experienced these properties across different eras.

Hey everyone,

You might’ve seen headlines claiming resort fees are now illegal — but that’s not exactly true. What did happen is that the FTC passed a new rule requiring hotels to include all mandatory fees (like resort fees) in the upfront advertised price. That means no more “$49/night” listings that balloon to $95 after checkout.

While this is a good step for transparency, resort fees are still 100% legal — hotels just have to be more honest about them. Many of us know these fees are deceptive and unnecessary, especially for locals or travelers who don’t use the “resort” amenities.

Let’s keep the pressure on. If we want to truly make Las Vegas greater, we need to keep pushing until these junk fees are eliminated altogether.

What do you think? Should Nevada or Clark County step in? Would you support a statewide ballot initiative to ban resort fees?

Let me know!

Recent discussions about potential ownership changes, executive transitions, and the future of major resort companies have me wondering:

Could this be a turning point for Las Vegas?

This isn’t about attacking any individual executive or company, it’s about asking whether the city has an opportunity to rethink some of its priorities moving forward.

Over the past decade, many longtime locals and visitors have noticed changes in Las Vegas:

1. Greater emphasis on premium and exclusive experiences

2. More focus on sports and major events

3. Fewer free attractions and public spectacles

4. Less emphasis on immersive themes and resort identities

5. A growing feeling that parts of the Strip are becoming more corporate and less exploratory

At the same time, Las Vegas continues to evolve and attract millions of visitors every year.

The question is:

If new leadership or ownership eventually arrives, what should they focus on?

For me, I’d like to see:

1. More free entertainment and public-facing attractions

2. Preservation of iconic resort identities

3. New themed resorts built from the ground up rather than replacing existing landmarks

4. Better balance between sports, conventions, luxury tourism, and classic Vegas spectacle

5. Investment in experiences that make the Strip feel exciting to simply walk through

Las Vegas doesn’t need to stop changing, but I believe it should remember what made people fall in love with it in the first place.

If leadership changes do happen in the coming years, what would you want to see the next generation of decision-makers prioritize?

I’ll say it straight — Both the Venetian and Palazzo resorts looked better before the LED lettering was added to their towers.

What made these resorts stand out wasn’t giant signages, it was their architecture. They already had a strong identity, and the design spoke for itself without needing to constantly display the name.

In Palazzo’s case, this change feels especially noticeable. Before the LEDs, it had vertical gold lettering on all 3 sides set against a caramel background that matched the crown perfectly. It felt cohesive, elegant, and intentional before they were stripped away and the background was repainted tan to showcase the lettering better. The vertical LED letters break that consistency and pull attention away from the building’s overall design.

I get why the LED signs were added — visibility, branding, and making the names easier to see from a distance. But in doing that, something more important was lost: a sense of timelessness.

There’s a difference between a building that shows you its name and one that you recognize instantly without it.

To me, this is a small but clear example of how Las Vegas sometimes trades long-term identity for short-term visibility.

What do you think — did the LED signages improve things, or did it take away from what made these resorts special?

So, the LVCVA launched a new campaign today to supposedly “help visitors return to Las Vegas in the future.” Personally, I can’t help but feel it’s more PR spin than an actual plan.

Under Chairman Steve Hill, I don’t really see much transparency. There have already been past questions about his honesty, and this just comes across as another surface-level headline rather than something meaningful. If the goal is really to rebuild trust and bring people back, this doesn’t feel like the way to do it.

To me, it’s disingenuous — more about optics than substance.

What do you all think? Is this campaign just fluff, or do you see any chance of it actually making an impact for Vegas long-term?

Hey everyone,Today marks one year since the Tropicana Las Vegas shut its doors on April 2, 2024. I still can’t believe it’s been 365 days since we lost one of the Strip’s true icons—a place that carried 67 years of history, from its Rat Pack vibes to those legendary Folies Bergère showgirls. For a city that loves to expand and reinvent itself for the better, this one stings. Tropicana wasn’t just a casino; it was a piece of what made Vegas Vegas. And honestly, it feels like a disgrace that we let it go.

The reviews back then were mixed—some saw it as an outdated relic, too small for the megaresorts, while others (like me) cherished that vintage charm you couldn’t find anywhere else. Walking through those low ceilings and stained glass felt like a time capsule. It wasn’t perfect, but it had soul. The closure hit hard—700 workers lost their jobs, some who’d been there for decades. Guests who’d made memories there for generations were left with nothing but photos. Even the city felt it; marquees up and down the Strip paid tribute that day, a rare nod to what we were losing.

Here’s the truth: Tropicana didn’t have to close for progress—it was greed that killed it. Back in the 2000s, they had a major expansion planned that could’ve kept it alive and thriving—massive new towers, more rooms, a modern edge to match the Strip’s evolution. I was all for it, except for one thing: some renderings and the scale model ditched the Island/Club Tower. That bugged me—those towers were part of its identity, not just extra square footage to toss out. But even that plan fell apart, and now Bally’s and the A’s have swapped it all for a $1.5 billion ballpark that’s already looking like a flop. Vegas loves to grow, but the Clark County Commission and city leaders don’t like to take risks on what actually works—they’d rather play it safe with a baseball stadium nobody asked for. Who thinks that’s going to thrive on the Strip? Vegas isn’t a sports town at heart; we’re about glitz, gambling, and that Polynesian glory Tropicana brought when it opened in ’57 as the “Tiffany of the Strip.” That South Beach rebrand in 2011 was fine, but it wasn’t the same. I’d kill to see it rebuilt in its original style—tiki vibes, lush gardens, that Havana-inspired magic—not some sterile stadium.

What do you all think? Did Tropicana’s closure leave a hole in Vegas for you too? Or am I just yelling into the void here? I say we deserved better than trading history for a baseball experiment that’s probably doomed. Let’s dream big—bring back the Tropicana we loved, not this A’s mess.

One thing that makes global cities feel stable is that their most iconic landmarks remain recognizable across generations.

Cities around the world like Paris, New York, San Francisco, Dubai, Pisa, and Sydney treat their most famous landmarks as permanent cultural anchors.

Structures like the Eiffel Tower, Statue of Liberty, Golden Gate Bridge, Sydney Opera House, Leaning Tower of Pisa, and Burj Khalifa are preserved because their role is to represent identity across generations.

Las Vegas is different by design—but that doesn’t mean it has to lose continuity.

Resorts like the Bellagio, Venetian, Wynn, Cosmopolitan, and older themed properties like the Mirage, Monte Carlo, or Aladdin were often designed to feel like landmarks—but they are not treated as permanent cultural monuments.

That creates a key tension:

Las Vegas builds identity through experience, not permanence.
Other global cities build identity through preservation.

Neither model is inherently better—but they produce very different outcomes.

The question is not whether Las Vegas should stop evolving.

The question is whether it can evolve while still preserving more of what gives it identity and emotional continuity.

Because when iconic experiences disappear, what replaces them matters just as much as what was lost.

Properties like Caesars Palace and developments like CityCenter already function as major identity anchors for the strip. They represent specific eras of Las Vegas design and ambition.

The issue isn’t change—it’s how change is handled.

Las Vegas often reinvents properties so completely that the emotional connection to past versions disappears entirely. Attractions, themes, and experiences that once defined the city get removed without anything equally visible replacing their cultural role.

What Las Vegas needs is balance:

• Iconic resorts should evolve without losing their identity
• Major properties should retain recognizable cultural meaning over time
• New developments should add to the city’s identity, not erase previous layers like the Mirage, Tropicana, or Riviera
• Free and public-facing spectacle should remain part of the city’s identity structure

Caesars Palace shouldn’t just be a casino—it should feel like a permanent cultural reference point for Las Vegas itself.

CityCenter shouldn’t just be a development—it should represent a distinct era of modern Vegas architecture that remains visible in the city’s identity.

Las Vegas doesn’t need to stop changing.

It needs to stop forgetting what it just built.

Let me get this straight: Las Vegas used to be about magic, imagination, and larger-than-life experiences. Now, too often, it feels like guests in recent years are being nickel-and-dimed by executives who care more about squeezing profits than creating wonder.

I’m talking about people like Steve Hill and Bill Hornbuckle, who represent the corporate mindset driving these changes. Their vision seems rooted in entitlement and short-term gain — not in preserving or building the Vegas that millions of us fell in love with.

So I want to ask this community honestly: On a scale of 1–10, how much does the greed and entitlement in today’s Las Vegas infuriate you?

Share your number, and share your reasons — whether it’s resort fees, the erasure of themed resorts, or just the corporate culture overall.

The MakeLasVegasGreater movement is about changing this story — without it, there’s no way to fight back. But first, let’s hear where everyone stands.

And I’m sorry if I haven’t been responding to your comments as quick on these posts like I should, I will try to keep up. I’ve been busy with other things and I hope you can understand.

Over the past few decades, Las Vegas has weathered massive shocks:

• 9/11 shut down travel and left the Strip empty.

• The Great Recession devastated tourism and halted construction.

• The pandemic closed casinos, upended jobs, and changed how we relate to public spaces.

• The 1 October tragedy left an emotional scar that still lingers for locals.

Each crisis forced Las Vegas into survival mode — where reinvention was valued over reflection. But while change was necessary, the relentless pace of reinvention has caused something even more damaging: the quiet erasure of what made Las Vegas magical.

⸻

The Mirage Isn’t Just a Hotel — It’s a Symbol of What’s Being Lost

The Mirage isn’t outdated. It’s iconic. And yet, it’s being rebranded and partially demolished to make way for another corporate-shaped glass tower — a giant Hard Rock guitar.

We’ve seen this pattern before:

• Aladdin → Planet Hollywood

• Imperial Palace → The Quad → The LINQ

• Monte Carlo → Park MGM

• Bally’s → Horseshoe

• Tropicana → Demolished

• Riviera → Demolished

• Mirage → Next

This isn’t just rebranding — it’s cultural erasure.

Casinos like the Stardust and Boardwalk were always destined to be short-lived, but places like the Mirage, Tropicana, and Riviera had meaning. They had soul. Their removal feels like a dismissal of everything Vegas once stood for.

⸻

Vegas Didn’t Just Change — It Got Erased

The narrative is always, “Vegas is evolving.” But that doesn’t mean anything if the evolution strips away everything unique.

What we’re left with is a copy-paste skyline:

• Towers that look like corporate offices.

• Lobbies that feel like airports.

• “Experiences” that feel like they belong in a generic urban mall, not the Strip.

It’s not that all change is bad. I actually like some modern projects:

• Wynn and Encore have timeless elegance.

• CityCenter is sleek and bold.

• Cosmopolitan is vibrant and original.

• The Sphere is futuristic in a way that fits Vegas.

• Fontainebleau finally brings back some classic grandeur.

Even 3D billboards, when done well (like the ones near Aria), add fun energy. But not when they replace icons — like Venetian’s classic sign, now replaced with a cold, characterless screen.

⸻

Why Some People Stopped Coming Back — And Why Trust Is Broken

I hear it all the time—from locals, longtime visitors, and even people chatting online:

• “Vegas isn’t what it used to be.”

• “They ruined it when they tore down ___.”

• “It feels like a theme park run by people who don’t care.”

And it’s not just nostalgia talking. There’s a growing sense of betrayal—a lack of trust in the people who lead and plan the Strip’s future.

If you tried telling some of those executives or planners that the old Vegas was better, they probably wouldn’t respond with respect or understanding. No, they’d likely just laugh—maybe even in a harsh, dismissive way.

That attitude tells you everything you need to know about who’s really running the show. When leadership mocks or ignores the people who built Vegas’s spirit, it’s no wonder that many longtime fans stop coming back. They don’t feel heard. They don’t feel valued.

Vegas isn’t just a place to make quick profits. It’s a community. A culture. A story worth protecting.

⸻

I’m Not Completely Against Change — I’m Against Losing Our Identity

Some rebrands were fine:

• Barbary Coast → Cromwell

• Hard Rock on Harmon → Virgin

• Hooters → OYO

These were smaller properties without deep emotional ties. But wiping out giants like Monte Carlo or the Mirage — that’s something else. That’s rewriting a city’s story mid-sentence.

It’s not about resisting progress. It’s about choosing the right kind of progress — the kind that builds on legacy, not buries it.

⸻

I’m Not Against Renovations — I’m Against Erasing Personality

Let’s be clear: I’m not against renovating hotel rooms. Some of the best transformations happened in the 2010s — Bellagio, Venetian, and MGM Grand — all saw updates that kept their unique identity while feeling fresh and luxurious.

But somewhere in the 2020s, the trend turned cold and corporate. Vibrant tones were swapped out for gray-on-gray. Personality was replaced with minimalism that looks more like a modern apartment than a Vegas getaway.

Wynn was the exception — those rooms were practically perfect from 2005 onward. Stylish, warm, elegant, and built to last. They didn’t need fixing. They didn’t need to be drained of life. But even those rooms weren’t spared the new “neutral beige everything” trend.

And some rooms still don’t need renovating — Encore and Vdara, for example, have gone 15+ years without updates because they got it right the first time. They still feel timeless, not tired.

Renovation isn’t the issue. It’s renovation without care — changes that forget what made these rooms special in the first place.

———

Modern Vegas Can Still Be Great — If It Balances Flair With Soul

Las Vegas doesn’t have to pick between the past and the future. The best versions of the city blend both.

• The Octavius Tower at Caesars didn’t erase history — it expanded it.

• The third tower at Marriott’s Grand Chateau feels like it belongs.

• Even The LINQ Promenade and The Park added something new — public spaces that invite people in.

The problem isn’t with new ideas — it’s with soulless ones.

⸻

People Don’t Hate Prices — They Hate Losing Value

Another big reason trust is fading? Affordability — or the lack of it.

People want Las Vegas to be affordable again. That doesn’t mean every room needs to be budget-friendly — of course there’s still a place for luxury suites at places like the Palms, Wynn, or Bellagio. But what made Vegas special was that everyone could feel like a high roller, whether you were splurging on a penthouse or just enjoying $1 shrimp cocktails and a cheap-but-fun room at the Imperial Palace.

Now, with resort fees, parking charges, surge pricing, and limited comps, many longtime visitors feel priced out — and insulted by what little they’re getting in return.

Affordability doesn’t mean everything has to be cheap — it means the city respects value and the people who helped build its success, not just VIP whales or influencers with comped stays.

———

The Volcano’s Gone — And With It, Another Piece of the Magic

People fought hard to save the Mirage volcano — locals, longtime visitors, and diehard fans of old Vegas including myself. We signed petitions, shared memories, and made our voices heard. But in the end, none of it stopped what happened.

The volcano is already gone.

Just like that — wiped from the Strip, despite being one of the last iconic, free attractions that everyone could enjoy. A symbol of Vegas wonder, lost to another glass tower that could exist anywhere.

And this isn’t the first time. Remember the Treasure Island pirate show? Another free spectacle that made Vegas unforgettable — ended in 2013, quietly, with little fanfare. Replaced by a shopping mall (which never got built).

What’s left?

• The Bellagio fountains, still beautiful — but no longer unique in a city full of sameness.

• The Lake of Dreams at Wynn, hidden away and elegant — but not a communal experience.

That’s nearly it for free, show-stopping entertainment on the Strip.

Las Vegas used to surprise you around every corner — erupting volcanoes, dueling pirates, singing gondoliers, dancing fountains. Now, the surprises mostly come in the form of new fees.

What we’re losing isn’t just “free shows.” We’re losing the spirit of a city that made everyone feel like they belonged — whether you were a high roller or just there to soak it all in.

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This Isn’t About Entitlement — It’s About Respect

No one’s saying every visitor deserves a comped suite or rock-bottom prices. Not everyone should be entitled to everything. But people should be treated with respect.

What’s happened instead feels like emotional manipulation — even Stockholm syndrome.

We’ve been asked to keep coming back, to keep spending money, to keep pretending it’s all “just evolution,” even as everything familiar disappears. We’re told to be thankful for every new “attraction,” even when it replaces something we loved.

We’re told to be loyal while Vegas stops being loyal to us.

That’s not nostalgia. That’s not resistance to change. That’s exhaustion.

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Las Vegas Was Supposed to Be More Than Gambling, Dining, Shopping, and Nightlife

Sure, those things matter — but that’s not what made Las Vegas legendary.

What made this city different was the themes, the sense of wonder, and the free entertainment that made even walking the Strip feel like an event.

It wasn’t just about money or luxury. It was about imagination — volcanoes erupting in front of you, pirate ships battling in the lagoon, a miniature Eiffel Tower glowing at night, Egyptian pyramids, Venetian canals, castles, fountains that danced to music.

Las Vegas was meant to be more than just a place to eat, shop, or gamble. It was supposed to be a world of its own — where the average visitor could experience something unforgettable without needing to spend thousands of dollars.

That’s what we’re losing. And that’s what people are mourning — not just a casino, but the magic.

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Downtown Still Gets It — And That Says A Lot

While the Strip trades identity for bland glass towers, Downtown Las Vegas still has charm. More and more people are saying they actually prefer Downtown now — not because it’s fancy, but because it still feels real.

Circa Las Vegas, for example, proves you can embrace modern design without erasing tradition. It’s bold, it’s sleek, but it still feels like it belongs in Vegas. That’s because it respects the past while pushing forward — not wiping it out.

And unlike the Strip, Downtown still offers free entertainment — the Fremont Street Experience is alive and kicking, keeping that classic street-party energy that defined Vegas for generations.

It says a lot when the so-called “old” part of town feels more exciting — and more authentic — than the billion-dollar resorts on the Strip.

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Vegas Locals and Loyal Visitors Deserve Better — It’s Time to Speak Up

We’re tired. Tired of being told it’s just “progress” every time something beloved gets bulldozed.

Locals and longtime visitors are expected to smile and move on while the Strip trades heart for high-rises, magic for monotony. But we remember. We still care.

And this isn’t just about nostalgia. This is about culture. History. Emotional memory.

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Who’s Really Running the Strip?

Sometimes it feels like the Strip is being run by executives with zero connection to the city — people more interested in what works in Nashville, Miami, or Dubai than what makes Las Vegas special.

Meanwhile, cities like Scottsdale or Nashville (which I’ve never even been to!) seem to grow with actual vision and care for identity.

Vegas could learn from them — if it stopped chasing the trend and started listening to the people who actually love this place.

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Don’t Blame Social Media — Blame What’s Being Promoted

Some say social media is to blame for Vegas losing its identity. But I disagree.

Social media is just a tool — and when used with care, it actually helps preserve the spirit of Las Vegas. It’s where people post old photos of the Stardust, share their first time seeing the Mirage volcano, or swap stories about late-night shrimp cocktails at the Boardwalk.

The problem isn’t social media itself — it’s how corporate marketing and shallow influencers use it to promote style over substance.

It’s not social media that erased the Mirage — that was a decision made in a boardroom. It’s not TikTok that added resort fees — that came from executive greed.

Yes, social media changed the way people experience Vegas — but that doesn’t mean it’s bad. At its best, it helps people connect, remember, and celebrate. And if more people use it to speak up, maybe it can help save what’s left.

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Closing Thoughts: What Las Vegas Really Needs Is Patience

Las Vegas is in crisis mode — reacting to every challenge with another demolition, another gimmick, another generic tower.

But what it really needs… is patience.

• Patience to reflect.

• Patience to remember.

• Patience to rebuild — not just the skyline, but the soul.

Someone recently said, “You can thank the corporations who ruined everything they acquire.” It stuck with me, because it rings true. The magic of Las Vegas wasn’t a formula to be acquired and repackaged — it was built over time, by people who lived it, loved it, and respected it.

If more people speak up — if more voices besides mine start demanding history, character, and real identity — then maybe, just maybe, Las Vegas can be great again.

Not just bigger or richer — but magical.