What you have to remember is that the hustle begins in Vegas as soon as you get off the the plane. As soon as you step into the terminal, you're presented with a bunch of fruit machines just waiting to be played. In the airport.

It continues at the hotel, when you step up to the registration desk. You have a pre-paid room, but did you know that they have a few large suites available? And don't they look good? With a jacuzzi as well? You don't want that one? Well, here's a cheaper suite…in the end, there's no real escape from the hustle; you're in Vegas, therefore you will lose money somehow. I ended up getting the $5/day 'resort package' so I didn't ruin the clerk's day completely. Although he got his revenge by apparently sticking me on the the floor where the club overspill sleeps at 4am. But then, in the grand scheme of Vegas, it's a victory.

One thing I forgot, having spent most of the five years in North Carolina, is how different alcohol is handled here. There probably are open container laws, but people walk down the street drinking, girls that look unconvincingly over 21 swig from Budwiser glasses or buy cans of malt liquor at service stations; it's like an average British town…oho. Except that every other woman seems to have work done, or at least in the area I've explored so far (the Stratosphere and the Sahara; forgive me - I've been up for more than 24 hours!).

But now, the city has claimed me. Tomorrow, I will explore the monorail, and get to the truth of whether OJ Simpson carried out an armed robbery on the Palace Station...