Vegas Magazine - Niche Media - There is a place beyond the crowds, beyond the ropes, where dreams are realized and success is celebrated. You are invited.
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illustration by daniel o'leary "Ecological mischiEf has turnEd onE of thE bEst placEs to ward off hay fEvEr into a hay-fEvEr party." Bless You! Welcome to the unkindest month in las Vegas for allergy sufferers. don't blame mother nature. by scott dickensheets Hang on to your sinuses, people. Now that we've concluded our cherished winter ritual—trying to feel bad for snowbound Easterners as we ride out February in shirt- sleeves—it's time for the inevitable karmic boomerang: spring allergies. You know the routine: The blocked nasal passages and snuff ling. The uptick in tissue expenses. The renewed apprecia- tion for sneeze guards at local buffets. It's just nature's way of reminding us that there's no free lunch. Because it turns out that the unseasonable warmth and dryness that make Las Vegas the envy of our polar-vortexed friends now comes back to bite us in the nose. With no killing frosts or pollen-dampening layers of snow, our trees, grasses, and weeds can, early and often, get right down to the f loral equivalent of making whoopee—that is, spewing allergens into the air. The desert helpfully kicks in some dust, maybe a few mold spores, and voilà: peak sneeze, every April. By the way, the proper spelling is "gesundheit." But hold on a minute. Even though nature exhales pollens by the ton, we can't blame her entirely. It takes human tomfoolery to turn the cool, green business of plant reproduction into a medical nuisance. Time was, the raw desert was an excellent place for the respiratorily challenged. In the late 19th and early 20th centuries, it was where allergy sufferers, asthmatics, and tuberculosis victims from the cold, damp Northeast would f lock to clear their heads and chests. So many thousands, in fact, that the Southwest became "the nation's sanatorium"—a slogan that one New Mexico territorial governor thought would be a nifty motto for his state. Luxury health resorts in Arizona catered to the wheezing scions of Industrial Age wealth, while penniless "lungers" camped in tent cities. Too new to really cash in on this early medical tourism, Las Vegas nonetheless gained a reputation as a good place to dry your clogged bronchia. The magic of hot, clean air. But that was, what, 1.5 million people ago? The magic has vanished. Because doing what we shouldn't do is pretty much the mission statement of Las Vegas, for years its residents planted trees and grasses that couldn't thrive here without the area's modern water infrastructure. Eventually pollen counts rose, and the desert's advantage became what one local allergist now calls a "honeymoon period": Newcomers breathe easy for a few years, and then the sneezing sets in. Sure, some of the worst allergy triggers—your fruitless mulberry and olive trees—were banned decades ago, and xeriscap- ing has become the new suburban norm. But thanks to the bonkers growth of the '90s and aughts and the lavish amounts of water we gushed onto our lawns, we've still managed to carpet the valley with plenty of fresh pollen sources. (Ash trees and golf-course grass, we're looking at you.) Such ecological mischief has turned one of the best places to ward off hay fever into a hay-fever party, millions of spores spring-breaking in your sinuses for the March – June allergy season. So next time you interrupt an important client meeting with a five-sneeze spectacular, don't blame Mother Nature. Las Vegas did this to itself. V 108 vegasmagazine.com Parting shot