Why Las Vegas’s Dream Is Fraying: A Reporter’s Tour Through the Strip’s Tourism Slump

Why I Went Back to Las Vegas

At a bar inside the Luxor Hotel and Casino, I stood beside a 67-year-old man getting a tattoo of Yosemite Falls. He told me he hoped the ink would rekindle a relationship. I wished him luck, nursed a gin and soda, and thought about how no place quite convinces you the impossible is possible like Las Vegas.

The numbers that matter

In 2025 the city that hosted more than 41 million visitors a year earlier is seeing a marked decline. Hotel occupancy in July fell to 66.7 percent—down 16.8 percent year over year—and passenger traffic through Harry Reid International Airport dropped roughly 4.5 percent. Much of the foreign retreat has been dramatic: Air Canada ticket sales to Las Vegas are down about 33 percent, and the low-cost carrier Flair reported a 62 percent slump. Faced with those figures, Mayor Shelley Berkley appealed directly to Canadians: “We love you, we miss you, we need you.”

These headline numbers are only part of the story. Experts warn foreign visitation to the United States could fall another 6 percent in 2026, compounding pressure on destinations that rely on international tourists.

How the product changed

The psychology of Las Vegas is as important as its economics. For decades the Strip sold an accessible fantasy: inexpensive buffets and shows, comped drinks, and casino rules that stretched a modest bankroll across a long night. That bargain is fraying. Across the Strip I saw a shift toward higher minimums, less favorable game rules, and more fees—changes that make short-stay, budget travelers feel unwelcome.

Two of the clearest examples are roulette and blackjack. A once-uncommon triple-zero roulette wheel has proliferated since its 2016 debut; each extra zero raises the house edge by roughly 2.7 percentage points. Blackjack tables, meanwhile, have migrated from 3-to-2 payouts on naturals to 6-to-5 in many venues, raising the house edge from roughly 0.66 percent to about 2 percent on affected tables. Low-stakes play is rarer: casinos offering $5 minimums for 3-to-2 blackjack in 2020 have dwindled from 38 to about six today. $25 and even $50 minimums are now common.

Why operators made those choices

Casino operators say economics forced their hands: rising labor and maintenance costs, inflation, and a higher Nevada minimum wage (about $12 as of last year) make low-minimum tables less viable. Oliver Lovat, a real-estate consultant who advises casino properties, told me it is often unprofitable to run $5 blackjack tables—some properties operate them at a loss to preserve goodwill, but many have exited.

Ownership trends have also shifted incentives. Private-equity firms and real-estate investment trusts now own a significant portion of Strip real estate, and their priorities—maximize returns and shareholder value—often translate into fee structures, higher minimums, and rule tweaks that improve margins. Andrew Woods of UNLV’s Center for Business and Economic Research summarized the change: corporate priorities shape consumer treatment in ways that favor incremental revenue extraction.

Who’s feeling it

The impact is felt most acutely by people who depend on the old, more inclusive Las Vegas economy: timeshare sellers, street performers, showgirls, and sellers of discount show tickets. Outside a CVS I spoke with Sarah, who has sold tours and timeshares along the Strip for nearly 30 years; she said this has been her worst season in decades. “They say the F1 race brings a lot of money here, but we don’t see it,” she told me. “The people coming aren’t spending money in the hotels. They’re not walking the streets.”

Cosplayers, buskers, and small vendors reported the same trend: fewer pedestrians, smaller tips, and more competition for fleeting attention. Meanwhile, some high-end projects—NFL and NHL teams, the Sphere, and the Las Vegas Grand Prix—promise affluent visitors, but those dollars don’t always trickle to the street-level economy that sustained budget travelers.

Inside the casino industry

At the Global Gaming Expo, the annual industry trade show, the message was candid: the business remains focused on extracting scale. Vendors displayed slot cabinets optimized for revenue, leather chairs designed for player comfort (to keep folks seated longer), and software to make cashless wagering frictionless. One industry executive described a future where tapping your phone to a slot is as easy as buying coffee—designed to reduce friction and lengthen play.

Yet the same industry reports mixed signals on tourism: while some operators note declines in inquiries and off-peak occupancy, gaming revenue on the Strip has shown resilience. In August, gaming revenue on the Strip rose by about 5.5 percent year over year, downtown gaming revenue increased by more than 8 percent, and the Boulder Strip was up nearly 10 percent—evidence that the house still wins, even with fewer visitors.

What it felt like to me

I tried to test the city as it once was by retracing the steps that sparked my own love for Vegas. A decade earlier, a $200 bankroll at $5 blackjack tables could carry a night of slow losses and a few big thrills. In 2025, $25 minimums meant the same bankroll evaporated far faster. The math and the atmosphere felt different: shorter sessions, fewer social rituals, and a sense that the city was monetizing nearly every interaction.

Still, Las Vegas retains its power. On my last night a slot machine paid out an improbable $900 jackpot. That windfall reminded me—and anyone who has ever gambled—that one lucky spin can erase a lot of disappointment. Which is to say: the city’s mythology is changing, but its ability to produce euphoria, and profits, remains intact.

Conclusions

Las Vegas today is neither dead nor unchanged. It is undergoing a shift from a democratized playground of cheap excess to a more expensive, efficiency-driven marketplace. That transformation helps explain the decline in visitors who sought budget trips and familiar rituals, and why street-level economies are struggling. At the same time, big investments and resilient gaming revenue suggest the Strip will remain profitable.

Bottom line: The dream that once made Las Vegas feel accessible to many is fraying; the city’s new priorities favor higher spenders and shareholder returns. But for gamblers and high-roller audiences, the Strip still delivers the same intoxicating possibility: you can still walk away with a life-changing win.