Vegas - a fun family destination

My first two trips to Las Vegas came during the fall. When I planned to head out there for a solo trip in late July, I figured I would have a little different experience.

During the weeks leading up to the trip, I would occasionally log onto The Weather Channel's web site and look at the temperatures. Naturally, the forecast called for triple digits pretty much every day. I knew I would get to test the whole "dry heat" theory.

But when I got there, I found out I would have to deal with something else that would test my patience. I forgot that some people still think Las Vegas is a great summer vacation spot for children.

When I went in the fall, I did see a smattering of kids. I would always shake my head and wonder what possessed the parents to bring their children. Maybe they had a convention and didn't want to leave the kids at Granny's house. I didn't want to judge, but I did.

I had plenty of opportunities to judge this time around. Kids were fucking everywhere. I could not believe how many rugrats I had to dodge.

I have a kid. She turns eight this summer. No way in hell would I ever think of taking her to Vegas. In fact, we talked about it before I left, and I let her know that she should get used to waiting because she had a good 13 years before she could join me on one of these trips.

Why didn't all these other parents have the same talk with their kids? I could kinda, sorta understand the German family I saw a few times because Vegas probably represented just one part of an American vacation for them. At least I think they were German. The father was wearing socks with his sandals so I just assumed.

But still, if you fly from Düsseldorf to the U.S. and bring the kids to Vegas, do you really get the full experience? I know you can head there and enjoy shows and the sights and the good food without gambling, but you have to do it while worrying if little Hans and Franz are checking out all the borderline porn surrounding them.

When I was walking down the street once, a lady was kind of yelling at the "porn slappers" who pass out baseball-card sized advertisements for "strippers" who will come directly to your room. She seemed upset that they tried to hand the cards to her teenage children.

Lady, you're the one bringing teenagers to a city that prides itself on have very few moral boundaries. Don't yell at the nice gentleman who probably doesn't speak English for doing his job, even though it's a pretty crappy job.

At least she knew where her kids were. I was walking through a casino one night and saw employees talking to a few kids who couldn't have been older than 12. They were just roaming the casino by themselves and security was trying to find the location of the parents who thought it was a good idea to set their kids loose in Harrah's on a Tuesday night.

I know the casinos have signs all over the place letting people know that you need to be 21 to enter the casino. I even saw one casino card a guy before they gave him his chips at a poker table. But they need to go even further.

The way to solve this problem is to give people who don't bring their kids free reign to simply make fun of those who break this cardinal rule. Common sense has not stopped people from bringing their kids to Vegas, so maybe public humiliation will.

Maybe if people had to deal with others laughing and pointing at them during their vacation, they might think twice about their choices. Maybe if they had to suffer through a table of adults yelling at them while they tried to get their kids food at the buffet, they might look a little harder for a babysitter.

This seems to be the only recourse because some people don't seem to understand the idea that it's not a smart to bring your kids to a city where you can see mobile billboards of scantily-clad women pretty much 24 hours a day.

I can deal with walking around in what feels like a brick oven because 10 bucks gets me a daiquiri. Sadly, there's no drink which helps me deal with dodging nine year olds on my way to the poker room. Try Disney next time, folks.

Brian Shea is probably enjoying a beer in his basement right now. You can contact him at columns@regularguycolumn.com.