Las Vegas is a city built on contradictions. Glitter meets grit. Showbiz razzle-dazzle thrives on the same streets as quiet diners serving late-night pancakes to bleary-eyed locals. So, when someone asks me about the craziest place I’ve ever been, I don’t rattle off the typical bucket-list destinations. Instead, I remember a thrillingly bizarre night right here in my backyard—the Neon Boneyard.

Yes, that’s its real name. And no, it’s not a burial ground for glow sticks.

A Date with Vegas Past (and Possibly a Ghost)

Let me set the scene: It was a moonlit summer evening in Las Vegas, the kind where the desert heat grips you like a too-tight sequined dress. I’d just started seeing someone new—a film student who talked like he invented cinema (spoiler: he did not). In a rare burst of originality, he suggested we check out the Neon Boneyard, the legendary museum where old Vegas signage goes to die—or, I like to think, semi-retire.

Now, most date spots are predictable. You’ve got your charming Italian restaurants, your bowling alleys, maybe an obligatory hike if your crush is outdoorsy. The Neon Boneyard? It’s like stepping inside a Lynchian fever dream where nostalgia, artistry, and Vegas camp collide. If Wes Anderson directed a theme park ride through mid-century Americana, it would look like this.

We arrived as the sun dipped behind the mountains, painting the sky in shades of peach and purple that would’ve made any Instagram filter cry with envy. Walking into the Boneyard felt like entering a pop culture mausoleum. Massive signs from once-glamorous casinos were haphazardly arranged, each one buzzing faintly with tales of their former glory. The Stardust’s celestial logo lounged carelessly next to the Sahara’s elegant lettering. It was enchanting, eerie, and altogether intoxicating.

What I Learned About Love from a Flashing Casino Sign

Here’s the thing about unusual first date spots: They strip away the awkward predictability of small talk. There’s no forced conversation about office drama or who keeps stealing your almond milk from the communal fridge. Instead, I found myself connecting with my date in real time as we marveled at our surroundings. “What do you think ‘The Silver Slipper’ would’ve been like?” I asked. He spun a tale about flapper ghosts gambling their sorrows away, and just like that, the evening zinged with creativity.

But the Boneyard isn’t just an icebreaker for the dating-averse. It also reminded me how important it is to honor where you come from before diving into the future (a surprising depth of thought for someone distracted by ten-foot-tall fiberglass martinis). Life moves fast, much like Vegas itself, and relationships—whether romantic, platonic, or familial—are shaped by the stories we preserve and pass on.

So, here’s my first practical tip: pick a date spot that sparks curiosity. Whether that’s a quirky museum, an improv show, or even an eccentric coffee shop, an atypical location can take the pressure off “performing” on a date. Instead, let your environment do some of the heavy lifting for you—because if my film-student fling and I could bond over the decayed glamour of the Moulin Rouge sign, you can absolutely build a connection over latte art shaped like a cat.

Not Everything Stays in Vegas—Including Life Lessons

While the Neon Boneyard taught me about the art of storytelling, it also tested the fine line between playful intrigue and my easily spooked nature. Halfway through the tour, our guide casually mentioned how some visitors claimed to feel the “lingering energy” of bygone Vegas performers. And look, I’m not here to debate the metaphysical properties of the afterlife, but I definitely felt something cold brush my arm when we passed a crumpled Riviera marquee. Was it the wind? Was it spectral drama? Mysteries abound.

But here’s where dating intersects with haunted tourist attractions: you’ll never really know what—or who—you’re dealing with until you’re in the moment. Will your date embrace your quirks and run with the bizarre, or will they roll their eyes at your rambly theories about ghost slots? My date’s response (“If you were a Vegas ghost, I feel like you’d haunt the Flamingo pool.”) cleared my suspicions. A+ banter, 10/10 would recommend.

So that’s tip two: Don’t shy away from a little weirdness. Vulnerability often lives in the strange and unexpected, and sometimes, admitting “Hey, I think a haunted lamp touched me” can spark the best kind of connection.

The Boneyard Breakthrough

Of course, the best part about the Neon Boneyard wasn’t the signs, the mild ghost panic, or even the novelty of the experience. It was the reminder that every object, moment, or person has a story worth hearing. Shiny things—whether flashing neon or that irresistible new crush—eventually fade. The challenge isn’t just to appreciate the brightness in the moment but to honor the complexity in what lingers afterward.

My date and I didn’t go the distance (turns out his one true love was film-school ego), but that night at the Boneyard taught me more than most relationships do. It taught me the value of curiosity, creativity, and embracing the weird. And maybe that’s what dating—and life—is really about: seeing the overlooked beauty in what’s broken, messy, and unexpected.

Big Takeaways for Your Own Crazy Adventures

If you’re willing to try something new, you might just stumble upon a surprising connection—or at least a really good story you’ll retell for years. Here are three lessons I walked away with, neon ghosts included:

  • 1. Embrace the Offbeat: Step outside your comfort zone, whether that’s a museum filled with old signs or a tiny hole-in-the-wall karaoke bar. Unusual places have a way of loosening both conversation and inhibitions.
  • 2. Find the Value in the Past: Every relationship—romantic or otherwise—has a history. Don't ignore it, but use it as a guide for what you want in your future. (Translation: if every one of your exes liked Creed cover bands, maybe that’s your cue to pivot.)
  • 3. Laugh at Yourself: Whether you’re spooked by ghost stories, forget someone's name mid-date, or try to interpret a neon cowboy sign like it’s a Jackson Pollock painting, be open to laughing it off. Imperfections are what make experiences (and people) memorable.

Final Neon Note

Leaving the Boneyard that night, I remember staring at the towering Hard Rock Café guitar, its neon unlit, and thinking about everything it symbolized. Once, it was a beacon of energy and showmanship. Now, it stood as a reminder that things don’t have to stay “on” to remain significant. Sometimes, the best stories—the ones that truly light us up—come from the places where the glimmer has dimmed.

And if a date doesn’t work out? Well, at least you’ll walk away with one memorable night and an anecdote guaranteed to kill at brunch.