Christmas lights...

Las Vegas. What can I say. There is no where in the world with such an amazing conglomeration of people, places and things to do. I arrived there this past Thursday just in time to board a bus from my hotel for the Thomas and Mack Center, the home of the National Finals Rodeo.

Now let me make it clear, I am a citified tin horn without any rodeo credentials whatsoever. Oh sure, I have ridden horses at a variety of resorts and with friends, but I am not, I repeat, AM NOT, comfortable around horses, cows, or other animals associated with rodeo. But I do love it. Always have. But I am not there for myself, not even necessarily for my magazine, although I am doing business in Las Vegas by covering the people that make up this event. No, I am there because I love my daughter.

My youngest is a barrel racer. She loves to ride horses around an arena and guide their course through as series of barrels and poles. They win or lose by the time they post in this game won by one hundreds of a second. And she wan't competing in the NFR's, she only wanted to see them.

We arrive at this arena, along with 13,000 other people all at about the same time. We pile off the bus and begin quite a long journey to the front door. Now I don't know how many of you have been to a rodeo, but there is a uniform and, well, pretty much everybody, man, woman, child, wears one. Wranglers, cowboy hat, checkered shirt, insulated vest (because it's cold even in Vegas). Also, most of the hats are black except for a few out of touch cowboys, or wannabes, like me ... mine is white. And I don't own Wranglers, I own Levi's.

We make our way into the arena, look for our section, 212, and make the long, and I do mean LONG climb to row R. We sit just in time for Rodney Atkins, a country western singer of note, to explode (literally) onto a stage at the far end of the floor. He sings one song and, wow, then the laser light show begins. I lean over to Katie and tell her to hold on this is going to be a great night. And it was.

There is something in all of us, red blooded Amercians that we are, that love a cowboy, or cowgirl on a horse, staying on in spite of the lumps, bumps and speed of horses, bulls, whatever. Although, there is an event this particular night that, well, is not being kind to any rider. The saddle broncs. I hear this is what they call an elimination round. They put in the meanest horses to eliminate everyone but the best. Sure enough, only three riders go the distance and one, gets stomped by his ride after making the 8 second whistle. There is drama there, real drama, because it looked as though he got it in the back. Turns out he broke his femur ... still, wouldn't want to be him.

But that isn't the only drama going on around us. Three young, or not so young ladies, looking for who-knows-what, are completely inebriated and screaming at the top of their lungs.One gal spills her drink on my wife, they are up, down, all around throughout the night. Oddly enough, and I am not one to let stuff like this go, I was able to completely ignor their shinnanegans. The action on the floor was too compelling to pay attention to these crazies.

The show came to a close. Sad. So we go out on the town, at least as much as you can with you 14 year old daughter in tow. We go down to see the dancing fountains at the Bellaggio. We miss it. So we go shopping across the street ... at 11 PM. Yes, it's all open on the strip, some things you want to see and lots you don't want a thing to do with.

We come back outside and, rats, the fountains have just finished. "Let's go in the Belaggio," says I, "I have never even seen the inside of the lobby."

Now one casino is about the same as the next so I am not hopeful we are going to find anything of interest. We walk through the door, filled with holiday revelers and stop, stunned at what we see. Just ahead there is the most amazing display of Christmas lights I have ever seen, all made from live materials, roses, carnations, you name it. And the light, the Christmas lights warm our hearts and inflame the imagination. It is amazing.

So, if you are looking for Christmas lights this season, head to the most unlikely place to see them, the Bellaggio Hotel in Las Vegas.

And while you're there, don't forget to wear your Wranglers!