It’s brutal out there. But it’s not that great in here, either — here in the quiet spaces of my head and home, where I try to maintain a little equilibrium amid the madly fluxing state of this union. It ain’t easy. Out there won’t let me unwind. My morning coffee ripples with the stomp of each day’s fresh tyranny: the president’s political enemies targeted, troops and agents surging through cities, the Constitution treated like a novelty placemat.
I’m not the only one who feels it, either. For many of us still loyal to the bedraggled niceties of the American Experiment — suddenly disposable concepts like the Bill of Rights, pursuit of happiness, e pluribus unum — this chaos can sink us into a kind of jellied anxiety that I, for one, find it hard to squirm out of.
This, I submit, is no way to live, even under a would-be despot. Especially under a would-be despot.
The obvious solution is a darkened room and a gonzo supply of noise-canceling gummies. But I have a household to run, so that’s out. No, perhaps what I really need is for Las Vegas, particularly at this most festive time of the year — and with fewer visitors underfoot, haha — to work its fabled magic. What can I do around here to calm my nerves for a minute?
I ask around, collect ideas, angles, viewpoints.
Start by going big, I’m told: a feel-good wallop of deep time and natural beauty at Mt. Charleston, Red Rock — you know the places. Drive through the dramatic geology along Northshore Road as it winds toward Overton. Better yet, a leisurely visit to Ice Age Fossils State Park. Its overtones of extinction notwithstanding, the place’s ancient timelines suggest a corrective perspective. “Helps you to remember that this place has been here a long time,” my friend Geoff says, “long before all these stupid, destructive humans.”
Even those bits of nature curated by us stupid humans offer a soothing, organic riposte to 2025’s gold-plated crassness: Breathe in the floral spectacle of the Bellagio Conservatory, where the elaborate holiday configuration opens November 15; or the gloriously Christmas-lit cactus garden at the Ethel M chocolate factory in Henderson, debuting November 6; or the funky nature kitsch of Mystic Falls, whose laser-eyed wolf might be the #resistance hero we need (holiday show begins November 27). Or just take comfort in nature’s resilience wherever you find it, says my pal Dayvid: “Watch a bird eat off someone’s unattended plate on the patio of Springs Preserve Café.”
“Walking is man’s best medicine,” Hippocrates advised, and millennia later, my friend Harry, a street poet, takes him up on it: “Walking the trails of Las Vegas, both urban and wilderness, and yes, even walking inside the malls, helps ease the pain. Especially if you take dogs.” Wander the Wetlands Park. “Ice skating in Downtown Summerlin’s holiday display,” my friend Stacy suggests. Try yoga. Or, hell, just sit somewhere nice and laze against the machine. “I always like the beautiful view from the Paseo Verde Library’s floor-to-ceiling windows,” my friend Steve tells me.
By now you’ll have grasped that much of this comfort-seeking involves finding a bit of stability in the familiar — doubling down on the ordinary in these extraordinarily chaotic times. Even if you max out your positive agency (appealing to lawmakers, attending protests, donating to causes), the ambient dread of the moment can leave you paralyzed with anger, frustration, futility. Denied an outlet, they’ll eat you from within.
Speaking of eating, few things are more psychologically comfort-coded than food, whether it’s the meatloaf at Winnie & Ethel’s downtown or a poblano egg bowl under the big mesquite tree that shades the patio at Henderson’s Coffee Class. Were I to plan a mental health day around comfort food joints suggested by friends, I’d start the morning with a pork belly and eggs from the less-than-secret “secret menu” at Lou’s Diner, then stop by Khoury’s for a mezze platter at lunch, maybe spend happy hour at Petite Bohème (for the jambon beurre sandwich and a teeny-tini), and wrap with a pizza at Settebello.
That’s one best-of-Las Vegas romp; you surely have your own. The point is less the menu itself than the normalcy and connection — even a routine. As my pal John puts it: “a daily cup at a good coffee shop, a weekly lunch where everyone knows your name, and intimate dinner parties where we discuss everything but politics.” According to my friend Kim, the pasta-making class at Summerlin’s La Strega, if a bit pricey at $100, is ideal for this kind of self-care — you pick up a new skill while meeting wildly different people in a low-stress, fun setting.
Want more people? You can visit Fremont Street when the Experience puts on its most festive grunge. More entertainment? Besides the perennial Nutcracker, The Smith Center’s holiday lineup includes performances by Melody Sweets (December 5), the Las Vegas Philharmonic (December 6), Clint Holmes (December 6-7) and Earl Turner (December 17-18).
As I write this, the president is talking about invoking the Insurrection Act to bolster federal incursions into blue cities, while his key advisor Stephen Miller is saying something about Trump seizing sweeping “plenary” powers. Both would be breathtaking escalations of the already volatile mood befogging the country. Whether they proceed with either plan, the talk alone is enough to agitate millions of us who’d rather the government try ensuring a little domestic tranquility instead.
Of course, it’s naïve to imagine that a good meal, a supersize hit of natural beauty, or Holmes singing “The Christmas Song” can turn this thing around. But you still gotta live your life here at ground level, and it seems to me that part of that involves hanging onto your best self in the face of everything trying to grind it down. (But still write your senators!)
As John puts it, “My antidote to the dehumanizing effects of modern society is seeking comfort through the warm embrace of familiar friends, routines, and environments which evoke warmth and collegiality ... taking pleasure in the small favors and tender mercies of everyday life.”
I’ll have what he’s having.
Sources: food critic John Curtas, poet Harry Fagel, podcaster Dayvid Figler, author Kim Foster, historian Geoff Schumacher, journalist Steve Sebelius, writer Stacy J. Willis
