There are catacombs beneath Las Vegas, and I am torn between “Wha?!” and “Duh!”

Of course there are catacombs beneath the Sin City. Cities need tunnels the way we need organs. Those tunnels are where all of the stuff comes from, and then returns to. Stuff… The electricity and water. The magic and glitz. Did you know that Vegas has 2,000 miles of tunnels just to help maintain a constant supply of feathers and sparkly baby oil? Well, it doesn’t.

And of course they aren’t catacombs. Catacombs are religious. They contain more dust and skulls, and generally fewer milk crates and discarded Ikea Furniture.

They say about 1,000 people live down there. Some of them are mentally ill or addicted to drugs, while some of them are folks who simply fell through the floor of the economic system. Their living spaces range from pallets on the flooded floors to bedrooms with book cases and drawers.

I was astounded by how normal life was for them. I grew up on a steady diet of Chuds and giant alligators. The tunnels were where heroes went to get their asses kicked, only to emerge triumphant on the other side. Anyone remember Moria in the Fellowship of the Rings?

Now they are becoming some kind lowest rung in America society. In New York, Las Vegas, Kansas City and elsewhere, people are doing whatever they have to in order to survive. The tunnels, though dangerous, can sometimes offer a level of stability that is unavailable topside.