This week’s assignment took me to lovely Reno, Nevada.

Ah, Reno … it may be the biggest little city in the world, but it’s also the land that time eff-ing forgot.   Everything in the town smacks of days gone by.   If Reno were a woman, she’d be Lola from “Copacabana” … faded feathers in her hair in a dress she used to wear.  If Reno were a man, he’d be Elvis, during his bloated, puffy dead-on-a-toilet-seat years.

While there are a few new shiny casinos sprinkled in the mix, most of the gambling establishments have an early-70’s look/feel to them.  Thanks to the recession, a few have shuttered their doors altogether.  But the town remains a gambling Mecca, a poor man’s Vegas.

Fortunately, Reno is only 45 minutes away from Tahoe — my single favorite place to visit in the United States.  This is the only time I’ve visited Reno that I haven’t immediately left to go to Tahoe.  It was sad, really.  I stood forlorn and waved towards the mountains.

There’s a dormant volcano disguised as a mountain on the outskirts of Reno.  Legend has it that if the volcano were to erupt, all the water in Lake Tahoe would immediately come crashing down and wipe Reno off the map.  I know Reno is in the midst of facelift, but I don’t think that’s the kind of “clean slate” they are looking for.   There is so much water in Lake Tahoe that if it spilled out it would inundate all of Nevada and a majority of California with more than a foot of water.  (Yes, that may be a great urban legend.  No, I cannot confirm or deny that, Snopes.com had no information.)

On our first morning there, it was a nippy 45 degrees, and by 4pm it was a blistering 91 degrees.  Typically, I pack for any occasion, but who knew I’d need both my parka AND my thong while in Reno.

I will say the Reno has really cleaned up its act since I was here last in 2005.  Tacky, decrepit strip malls have been replaced with tacky, upscale strip malls.  The downtown area now has a cool artsy-fartsy feel to it in the daytime.  At night though, it’s awash in enormous, looming neon signs, each shinier than the last.   If there are two casinos on opposing sides of the street, it’s like driving through a gauntlet of strobe lights.   Reno would be hell on earth for epileptics.  And even though it was nighttime, I still wore my sunglasses for fear my retinas would incinerate.

Ah Reno, we’re a lot alike … we’re both bright and shiny, and have a lot more style than substance.   You’re kitschy and I’m kitschy, and we’re both refusing to grow up or grow old gracefully.