Fremont Street in downtown Las Vegas is home to historic casinos and is littered with personality. It is a magnet for street performers, otherwise known as buskers, who make their living on the 1,500-ft. stretch of heavily trampled upon road that is restricted to pedestrian traffic.
Every time I find myself in the popular area, I am intrigued by the youngest of tourists that make their way through my fair town and wonder what sort of questions they may have about what they see. How do they process it all? What do their parents think? Why are they up at this hour; and did they recently get off an overseas flight and are hardwired for another time zone? My questions are endless.
One thing is certain: the youngest pair of eyes is guaranteed to see it all on any given evening in Sin City. What this means for the child, I do not know. Do we ever quite know?