What is there to love about Vegas? The answer is; it depends. Truth be known, I’ve been to Vegas a lot over the years, mostly because my husband plays in a pool (billiards) tournament every year, but also because there is something about the city I find strange and beautifully addictive. Where else can you see a naked nun, or an elderly couple speeding through a casino on matching scooters or a woman carrying a 40-pound headdress who is practically undressed? And in what other American city can you get a gondolier to serenade you like Pavarotti for mere pennies? Vegas is a carnival of contradictions. You can be beautiful, ugly, up, down, tall, small and everything in between. Vegas attracts nearly 40 million visitors every year, and 20 percent of those are from a foreign country. The Venetian, where I recently stayed, boasts more foreign tourists than any other hotel, primarily due to its plethora of restaurants and shops. People-watching is a sport there. It’s hard to miss the girls in too-short shorts and the hucksters handing out perfume samples, but if you look a little deeper, you may see a French couple who cannot take their eyes off each other long enough to notice the Eiffel Tower (Vegas style), or a child who beams at becoming herself “in clay” by the hands of a local artist. Beneath the grit of the strip, there is a richer story. I went to Cirque de Soliel’s Beatles LOVE for a second time this year, and as hundreds of strangers from all stratospheres joined together to sing “All You Need is Love,” it hit me. Like the “four young lads from Liverpool,” we all are a part of Vegas’ love story — a place where you can be any body, nobody and somebody at the exact same time.