Did You Know That the Las Vegas Strip Is Not Technically in Las Vegas?
Why Everything You Think You Know About Vegas Geography Is a Lie
We’ve Been Bamboozled
If you’ve been to the Bellagio, the Sphere, and a Fat Tuesday on the Strip, I’ve got some bad casino news for you: you’ve never actually been to Las Vegas.
And if you drove in from L.A. and went straight to MGM Grand? Still nope. You’ve been in a place called Paradise — which is exactly what it sounds like if your idea of paradise includes slow-walking families in matching tank tops and 44 oz. daiquiris.
Paradise (and its lesser-known neighbor, Winchester) are unincorporated townships in Clark County — not actual cities, but weird little legal bubbles created in 1950 by casino bosses who wanted to dodge city taxes and skirt tighter gambling regulations. I mean, relatable.
Looking down the Las Vegas Strip 😎 pic.twitter.com/s03UYtHN80
— Sin City Las Vegas (@SCVegas) April 24, 2025
Las Vegas’s mayor tried to scoop up the booming casino corridor to fund the city’s growing debt, but the Strip’s power players fought back, lobbied the county, and won. That’s how the Las Vegas casinos on the Strip became a 4.2-mile tax shelter dressed in sequins.
Even the Welcome to Fabulous Las Vegas sign is lying to you. It’s not in Las Vegas either, it’s in Paradise, along with Harry Reid International Airport, most of the megaresorts, and, awkwardly, my apartment. I’ve been out here claiming to be a Vegas local, but I guess I technically live in a place made up by the mob. Womp womp.
False advertising. The Strip starts a little north of the STRAT. pic.twitter.com/54JBuAonlA
— Las Vegas Locally 🌴 (@LasVegasLocally) October 25, 2023
So, What Is Las Vegas?
If you want actual Las Vegas, head north of Sahara Avenue — that’s where the city officially begins. My favs? ReBAR in the Arts District, where $5 mystery beers come in a brown paper bag and mystery shots usually taste like melted toothpaste. Or Horse Trailer Hideout, where you punch a machine to win thong underwear and try to land it on a bull’s horn overhead.
And if that’s not your vibe? Hit Fremont Street. It’s all half-naked women, shirtless dudes, and overpriced graphic tees that say things like I Got Crabs in Vegas.
Still not feeling it? No worries. Check out the online casino, because even as someone just a hop, skip, and a $12 Uber from it all, I’d still rather play for real money from the comfort of my air-conditioned home.
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