From bottom to top, Strip reflects all of Las Vegas

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With apologies to those who fought to attain our city’s latest National Scenic Byway designation, I’m struggling to see the beauty of this strip-club-and-tattoo-parlor-littered stretch of Las Vegas Boulevard.

And to be perfectly honest, planting a few old-school neon signs in the median isn’t going to draw the same camera-toting tourists as, say, Highway 101 on the California coast.

That isn’t to say Las Vegas Boulevard doesn’t belong in a category. It does, one of its very own. And here’s why: How many other cities boast a single roadway that provides a cross section of their community? A drag that provides a quick analysis of the entire valley, struggles, issues, trends and all?

And it gets it done in a 20-mile stretch.

Start by peeling off St. Rose Parkway and heading north. First are the cookie-cutter stucco home developments, the kind where you can flip your neighbor’s burger on the grill from your kitchen window. Typical Las Vegas housing, a style born when the population exploded.

A couple ticks on the odometer and it’s untouched desert land dotted with ranch-style houses, horses, equestrian arenas and haulers. It accurately represents Las Vegans’ constant fight against development in an effort to hold onto their rural lifestyle.

Four miles later, a stretch of luxury condominiums. Las Vegas developers’ first attempts to delve into high-priced vertical living.

Another four miles brings golf courses on either side of the boulevard. A pricey yet popular Las Vegas pastime and tourist attraction.

This is followed by nearly five miles of glitzy hotel-casinos blaring music and announcements as tourists stroll along the boulevard or dine outdoors. The Las Vegas Strip, with its over-the-top replicas of the Eiffel Tower and the New York City skyline, truly is a scenic byway, and previously had been designated as such.

But something is missing. Something that defines Las Vegas today. Oh yes, here it is. Construction cones blocking travel lanes for seemingly no reason at all.

Thirteen miles into our journey, the rural landscape is long gone. So are most of the massive casinos and tourists. They are replaced by skeletons of condominium projects that went broke, developments started and abandoned and empty, trash-filled lots that once held promise. Painted is an ugly picture of how hard the city was hit by the recession.

Moving north of Sahara Avenue, and kicking off the newly designated 3.5-mile stretch of scenic byway, is a tour bus parking lot, headquarters for a security alarm company, a couple of pawn shops, a smoke shop with a funky looking leaf in the front window, a motel that offers adult movies, some wedding chapels and the Olympic Garden strip club. Attractive? The chapel sort of adds aesthetic value in a cheesy Vegas-y way.

Then downtown Las Vegas. Las Vegas trying to reinvent itself. Las Vegas trying to find a new identity. Las Vegas trying to redefine cool.

Then there’s a stretch highlighting our town’s down-and-out, with the homeless bleeding onto the boulevard from social service agencies on Main Street.

Up next, our cultural area, which, fittingly, fits in one block, offering museums, a library and, ending at Washington Avenue, an Old Mormon Fort.

More than the historic fort, there’s one site in particular on the new byway that might send tourists scrambling for their cameras.

Near downtown, there’s a rusted rectangular sign — announcing in faded blue paint “Strippers nude. Daily.” — assuring potential customers they won’t be disappointed by a partially clothed dancer if they popped in on, say, a Wednesday. Below the sign are two swings better suited for a school yard. Yet, here they are, supporting some of the clothed dancers, who sway back and forth.

Maybe they are selling sex. Maybe they are trying to show that selling sex can be scenic. Maybe if they swing high enough, they will see that most of the boulevard is not so much scenic as it is unique in showing where we’ve been and where we’re going.

If you have a question, tip or tirade, call Adrienne Packer at (702) 387-2904, or send an e-mail to roadwarrior@review journal.com. Include your phone number.