Imagine you’re having one of those wonderful meals (think French style dinner) that drift on for hours with languid gaps between courses where the food is important but not the only reason for being there.

That wouldn’t happen in the US.

Not just becuase of the food (obviously a major factor but I won’t go into that now) but because as soon as your cutlery has touched the plate it is whisked away, regardless of whether everyone else has finished. So even working in Pizza Hut (surprise revelation for you there- promise not to tell?) we never cleared so much as a side plate until all diners had finished. Here, even in a smart restaurant they clear things away immediately. I don’t like it – it makes me feel rushed and uncomfortable – they are obviously trying to get you out the door asap.

Another weird thing is how the locals use cutlery here – almost noone uses a knife and fork simulataneously. The way to eat, eg a steak is to cut some chunks off, swap fork into right hand and then stab the bits and then swap hands again if more chunks need cutting off. The first time this was pointed out to me I was horrified then when I recovered from the initial shock I thinkI giggled through an entire meal.

I hadn’t realised quite how much I’d been dreading getting my hair cut here – but I have. I’ve seen so many women here with scary helmet hair the thought of leaving a hairdressers looking like that terrorised me. The preference seems to be for overly puffy and over hairsprayed middle aged hairstyles – these are particularly prevalent outside major city centres. (Think Hilary Clinton or Condoleeza Rice getting out of a plane – the hair is RIGID.) Urgh.

Anyway – I was reccommended a hairdresser. I went. I had my hair cut. She did exactly what I asked for and even blow dryed it as I’d asked. So that leads me to only one conclusion: they must all go in and ask for middle aged hair with all the bounce of Darth Vader’s helment. Scary.

I tried my first ever slot machine tonight. I had high expectations – all those flashing lights, bells and whistles. I even got someone to show me how to do it. Basically you just push a button and the wheels go round. Sometimes you win and mostly you don’t. “But that can’t be all there is to it?” I kept protesting. Apparently it is.

I lasted 5 minutes. I’m not the gambling sort at the best of times but there’s just nothing to it. And the rows and rows of slots are just seedy – even in a smart hotel you look around and see at all the people shuffling dead eyed from one machine to another, pushng buttons like automata. I just don’t get it.

Still I managed to make the princeley sum of $29 (OK so I did start with a voucher for $25 credit).

I’m back in Las Vegas for a trade show. It is my second trip this year – and the place doesn’t get any less weird. Everything is full on bling. It starts with the slot machines at the gate when you step off the plane. I’m even quite sure I saw “menopause the musical”

Also it seems to be some sort of elephants’ graveyard- I really think it is where old singers go to die. Engelbert Humperdink is here, so are Neil Diamond, Barry Manilow, Johnny Mathis and Celine Dion of course… who knew most of them were still alive?