The story of the hotel car park that hosted F1's first two trips to Vegas

"What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas" - the clarion call of those who frequent Sin City for a weekend of gambling and debauchery, as they progress from Strip bars to strip bars under the neon-illuminated signage. That's the perception, anyway. In reality, the city is not a monolith of blinding lights, wasted dollars and gluttonous excess; for those who live there, the tourist-enticing attractions are largely avoided as citizens go about their normal, mundane, daily lives.

The common axiom attributed to enabling Las Vegas-based shenanigans is also categorically not true. One could easily delve into a Simpsons reference here and note that the cocktail waitresses that Homer Simpson and Ned Flanders married on a drunken bender later came back into their lives, but that's not a) a particularly terrific real example, and b) not entirely relevant. However, it does apply to Formula 1, which will race in Las Vegas this weekend for the first time in 40 years. After the championship made its initial two forays into Nevada's largest city, it didn't hang around for long.