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I am almost 40 and live in Las Vegas, a great city to be in when about to hit midlife. Let me explain – reminisce when you fell in love for the first time, now picture that you were in Paris for that milestone in your life. There, I just gave you an ‘ah-ha’ moment, Paris is to love what Vegas is to midlife, or better still midlife crises.

Vegas is a fabulous city, it promises and delivers a great time sans guilt. We Las Vegans believe and live by our city’s popular slogan, `what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas,’ and expect our visitors to live by the same rules. The casinos, vibrant nightlife and the most expensive retail mile in the world make it attractive to the bold and the not-so beautiful. Therein Hollywood, thanks to its proximity, and Pakistanis, thanks to their shauqiniat, all make great use of what surrounds them. There is truth to this statement, I once spotted Jennifer Lopez shopping at LVL, Michael Jackson – when he was alive – was seen shopping at Versace, Mike Tyson lives down a few blocks from me, I sat next to Harry Reid, the senate majority leader, touched Bill Clinton’s shoulder, nothing scandalous I assure you, had lunch with Imran Khan, and as for Shaukat Aziz, I had tea with him a few weeks ago. Name dropping, Vegas style!

The city houses grandiosity, opulence and a complete show of money – that is just the nature of the beast – and if one chooses to live with and love Godzilla, one has to keep Godzilla happy. Cue for the Pakistani-American community, a perfect blend of beauty and the beast.

The Pakistani-American community here is affluent and influential, it rubs shoulder with scholars, politicians and powerful old-time mob lawyers, and therefore the chances of hosting the good, the bad and the ugly all at one event are always possible. There are fundraisers almost every other month, if not every month. Granted, some are held to increase the much needed legitimate communication between American politicians and the local Pakistani community, but there are many who entertain the powerful to gain personal glory and a one-up on their neighbour.

Not to put the local community down, it appears that immigrants all over the world behave in a similar fashion, they leave their home to achieve a dream and a few decades down find themselves in a nightmare called the rat race. The wise Englishman worded it so aptly, `remember, even if you win the race you are still a rat’.

Who has the bigger house complete with plush European car? Check to the European car. Which private school do your children attend? Check. Any international trips during the spring, summer and winter break? Summer, check. Isn’t it time you bought a bigger

home? Who has more handbags and shoes, Imelda Marcos or Me? Imelda Marcos. I have the incessant need to go to every show ever held on the Las Vegas Strip, don’t you? Nah, only the ones that interest me! These questions are thrown in randomly during conversations, and ducking them has become a ballgame for a few good men, a game of cricket, baseball, or sometimes both.

And then there are those who Plautus would have referred to as satellites. These are, for all practical purposes, self-respecting hard-working individuals who in all realms of life and relationships perform successfully until they find themselves in the presence of their Richie Rich and social demi god. The interesting thing about satellites, in Vegas or otherwise, is that they fail to see beyond the object of adoration, they refuse to acknowledge how pitiful they appear. And as for the subject of affection, sadly they put themselves on a pedestal and expect the best of us to agree with them at all times, but tragically most communities have a band of resistants who somehow spoil the equation with unnecessary ripples and nods of disapproval. A rebel with a cause is always a good thing!

The implication here is not that having money is bad or necessarily brings out the acquisition beast in all, but generally the greener the bank account, the greener the greed. Humility has taken a backseat or better still, has decided to stay silent and watch the money mayhem.

We have many reasonable international and national charitable causes with local Las Vegas chapters that do some fine work, but being on the committee or council comes with a perk called the Power Trip. Funnily enough, all and sundry have decided to partake in these causes, eliminating the fine line between a genuine and a bogus cause or a legitimate board member and phony one. I may be guilty of that, but the jury is still out on that one.

After a quick scan of the modern-day American dream and fond memories of balmy bygone Kolachi nights, I realise that an affluent expatriate lifestyle comes at a price. It is a high price to pay for those who consider themselves dreamers and romantics and find themselves faced with a dilemma at every crossroad. The American society is so materialistic and excessive that it is easy to lose sight of the dream and somehow fall into the reality of what is Las Vegas, big, obvious, opulent, fake, merely a mirage in a desert, or on the flipside home, my home, Elvis’ home, Liberace’s home, therefore party on….. Viva Las Vegas!

Bisma Tirmizi is a writer based in Las Vegas

The views expressed by this blogger and in the following reader comments do not necessarily reflect the views and policies of the Dawn Media Group.