For something billed as one of the best airports in the country LAS sure is an anonymous sprawl. Much like Las Vegas itself I suppose. I’m sure at some point in it’s past McCarran International swung as much as the rest of Vegas in the 1960s but wannabe Rat Packers would need a magnifying glass and tray full of martinis to unearth any evidence of its past. Now you have to leave LAS’ secure area to drink up because even with Vegas’ current sleaze-positive image there isn’t an appropriately scuzzy airport bar to anchor the terminal. Just a couple of clean, well-lit sports bars devoid of anything, including customers.
LAS is not that great of a place to hang out. The high-rolling gentry of course, fly on corporate or privately-leased jets and consequently never use the terminal, but there’s still plenty of people-watching opportunities if free-floating anxiety is your bag. People anxious to hit the casinos and do things that they can “leave in Vegas” and hungover people anxious to get the hell out of town after blowing their wad. The only “regulars” that LAS has are the “Janet” 737s of the Area 51 squadron and the mannequins that are part of the vintage Bonanza and Hughes Air West airline displays.