I have arrived. The resort, Green Valley Ranch, is absolutely magnificent, suitably removed from the main strip of casinos, but flanked by an assortment of restaurants and shops, including Whole Foods Market. I feel at home.

I start to sense that I have been mistakenly identified as a VIP. Although I am dressed in my typical travel gear - track suit, messy ponytail, and Vegan sport shoes (which are highly cute, if not by Vegas standards) - I am surrounded by beautiful, smiling people wanting to cater to my every need. (Did I mention I LOVE this place?!) The young man behind the desk raises his eyebrows as he tells me my room number. Apparently, it's a highly coveted location, typically only available by pre-arrangement. I am as surprised as he is, and when I arrive there, I understand what he meant. In a corner on the top floor of one of their towers, it offers an unbelievable view of the grounds and Las Vegas. I am certain it is much larger than many places I've lived.

Later on, as I am wandering around the property, I ask an older man in a dark suit for some directions. His Secret Service demeanor immediately dissolves as he takes my arm and happily walks me to my location. Finding out I have never been to their resort, he proceeds to give me a walking tour of the entire property, replete with 'insider' tips on best gambling tables, places to eat and hot spots. I keep trying to let him off the hook of having to be my personal tour guide, but he insists that I am the sole reason he has this job, and helping me is the highlight of his day. It leaves me speechless.

I decide to drop by one of the recommended hot spots for a drink. I'm still in my schlumpy travel gear, as un-glamorous as one can get. And probably looking more than a little bedraggled from my long day of traveling. Instead of the questioning looks I might have received entering a bar in any major city, I am embraced warmly. The sweet young woman who serves my drink couldn't be more accommodating. The group around the bar takes me into their conversations. They even decide that I need to learn how to play Poker, so they teach me. It was fine, but I think I disappointed them by not immediately falling in love with the whole gambling thing.

By the time I headed back to my room, my head was spinning. Not just from the long day and the drinks, but trying to figure out how the energy of a place like this works. It clearly does not represent pure living in the terms defined by my spiritual, holistic community. However, it felt good. I was happy, others were happy (and not that sickly sweet Disney happy that you know covers up seething anger and resentment). How does this work? Is it just a very well constructed facade? I start to feel silly and naive. But I can't shake the smile on my face, which is greeted by so many others as I pass.