Growing up in Las Vegas is probably the most difficult thing a teenager can endure. I mean, it is the crime capitol of Americacrime and kids don't exactly mix. The easiest way I can describe it to you is like a glass containing oil and water: the two substances don't go together without mixing them; and I don't intend to become a criminal.
For some reason, you never get used to the blinding glare of the neon signs outside of almost every single building, or the prostitutes walking the streets, not the constant honking of vehicle horns and angry screams of tourists and citizens, or the never ending, earsplitting shrieks of police sirens.
You don't even get used to the gunshots outside your window at night.
You're uneasy when you go out in the day, terrified when you go out at night, andif you're like me, anywayyou often sneak into bars and casinos with your fake I.D.'s and nobody takes a second glance at you. You can do anything you want in Sin City, believe it or