The Sunday Story: Parched
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The Colorado River is one of the great rivers of the American West. Colorado means reddish color in Spanish, so it's an appropriate name since the river itself has all these minerals that give it a reddish hue. But a better name for it now might be the Golden River. The Southwest is in the second decade of a mega drought, and as water becomes more and more scarce, the Colorado River and its tributaries have become the region's most precious commodity.

I'm Rachel Martin with the Sunday story from Up First. It's almost impossible to overstate the importance of the Colorado River to the American Southwest. It's critical for agriculture and for sustaining life for the tens of millions of people who live in the region.

Michael Elizabeth Sackis is a water reporter for Colorado Public Radio, and she has spent the past year traveling along the river talking to people who rely on it. And often these people have ideas, sometimes really big ideas about how to save it.

She's put it all in a new podcast called Parched, and she joins me now. Hey, Michael. Hi, Rachel. Thank you so much for having me on. Oh, I'm really happy to talk about this issue. I'm from the American West. I'm from Idaho. I understand water as a critical, critical issue out there with huge ramifications. So let's set the scene. When we hear that things are bad in the Colorado River Basin, what are we talking about exactly? What does bad look like?

BAD looks like the country's two largest reservoirs, which are Lake Mead and Lake Powell, both sitting at near record lows. They both hit record lows within the last year. And these are the water savings accounts for seven states and 30 indigenous tribes in

Really, it's these reservoirs that are ground zero for this water crisis in the Southwest because we rely on these reservoirs for hydropower. Millions of people use it for clean drinking water like you were just talking about. And I mean, we're talking about big cities like Las Vegas and San Diego and Phoenix and Tucson and everything.

If you've seen pictures of these reservoirs, there's this very stark visual of how much less water there is in the Colorado River with extended drought and climate change. And so if we keep pulling more water out of Lake Powell and Lake Mead than what nature is putting in, we are threatening the ability to deliver clean drinking water to millions of people and to millions of acres of farmland.

So let's talk about any viable solutions, if that's even a thing. I mean, when I think about the Colorado, I think about the fact that this is this massive river that doesn't even extend into the Pacific anymore because it's just tapped dry before it gets there. The last trickles sort of evaporate in the desert. Right. I mean, people want to know this, that is there anything we can do about this water crisis? Right.

And the thing is, is that we have to do something. That's the hard truth, that we just cannot keep using water in the Southwest like we are right now.

That is actually why we made this podcast, Parched. We want people to understand that, yes, there are things that we can do about this. So in this series, we explore ideas like desalination, right? Can we use the ocean as a big giant reservoir, take out all the salt and grime out of the ocean water to make it drinking water for people? Right?

Can we do more with wastewater? Can we recycle what you flush down your toilet so that it can come back to your tap so that you can drink it? And how can farmers and ranchers change how they grow things? Because that's also one of the big realities here is that 80% of the Colorado River is going to farmland. You actually grew up in Colorado. Do these stories feel personal to you in a way?

They absolutely do. And that's actually why I was so interested in covering water when I started at Colorado Public Radio, because these stories, especially as someone who grew up here, you know, I'm just as invested in what ends up happening here in the Southwest as we try to figure out how we have to use water differently. And in the first episode, we actually go and visit the start of the river. And that was a very interesting

eye-opening experience for me because the river, you know, you might imagine this mighty Colorado River, you know, rushing down the mountains here in my home state of Colorado. And when we visited in the wintertime, it was just this tiny trickle underneath snow and ice. And it was a very humbling moment to realize that that's where the river begins, that 40 million people, two countries, 30 indigenous tribes, seven states, where all

We're all vying for this same water source that's disappearing with climate change. And, you know, we're all kind of waiting to see what happens. And that includes me. So today in this episode, you're taking us to Las Vegas, which obviously conjures images of just over the top water use, right? Like huge water.

ornate fountains and golf courses that require tons of water to keep green. But I understand you found that in some ways it's actually...

A model of water conservation? Explain. Yes, totally understandable that that would be surprising. It's surprising to most folks, right? Because we have these images of Las Vegas, like the iconic Bellagio fountain shooting water, you know, multiple feet into the hot desert sky and these...

big resort towns and, you know, homes with lawns. And what they're struggling with is what a lot of towns across the Southwest are struggling with is, you know, this limited water resource. And they have, they've been kind of forced to become this blueprint for sustainability because they don't get that much Colorado River water and a lot of people are moving there. All right, let's get to it. Here's Viva Las Vegas from the podcast, Parched.

Ladies and gentlemen, welcome back to the big show. Well, how are you doing in Las Vegas? The piano bar in this Las Vegas strip casino is packed with people from all over the world.

They're singing and dancing along with an Elvis impersonator. His real name is Pete Valley. Ladies, come on over here. Give us your name, where you're from. Alicia, and I'm from Lubbock, Texas. She's from Lubbock. And I'm Anna, and I'm from Lubbock, Texas. Or two Lubbock Texans, we love it. So let's get this show on the road, baby. Let's do it.

Pete's not just known as Elvis. He's Big Elvis. That's because he's a big guy, once he weighed over 900 pounds. He's channeling Elvis' glitzy, over-the-top Vegas era, with bushy sideburns, purple-tinted glasses, and a silky outfit. Pete's been performing songs like Viva Las Vegas on the Strip for 25 years. Las Vegas

I was in the talent contest like Elvis in high school. Everybody screamed and yelled. And, you know, I knew right away, I was like, I got to do this. So Pete's mom brought him to Nevada when he was 15. He was drawn to this desert oasis, a city awash in sparkling lights, palm trees, big fountains and pools.

Well, I remember as a young boy when I moved here, water was abundant. I mean, I remember the fountains at Caesars 24-7 going off. I mean, it was just, you know, so much water. Everything was water, but it was unlimited water. So nobody thought about it.

Las Vegas is in the Mojave Desert, the driest desert in the country. So this city feels like a mirage, like an optical illusion sprung up from the vast blackness of the undeveloped desert landscape surrounding it.

Las Vegas as we know it shouldn't exist. And it's hard to believe that it does. This mirage, this illusion people flock to, to let loose and play hard, is built on Colorado River water. It wouldn't be here without it.

It is a desert, but we're—a lot of this world isn't all on the coast, and it's not all in the perfect spot. I think this is a playground for America, you know, and it should continue to be always. But in the backyard of America's playground is Lake Mead. It's the country's largest reservoir, and it's going dry. Without it, the Las Vegas fantasy turns back to dust.

So the city has to figure out how to play it safe with just one thing. And that's water. "Vegas is excess. Everything from food to gambling to whatever, nightlife, it's all excess. So they figure we're doing everything in excess, including wasting water. But that is just not certainly the case here, right? We're not wasting water. As a matter of fact, we're on top of it." And that's why we're in Las Vegas.

We're here to learn how and why this desert fantasy land wants to be the shining example of a city that can use less Colorado River water. From CPR News, this is Parched.

A podcast about people who rely on the river that shaped the West and have ideas to save it. I'm Michael Elizabeth Sackis. On this episode, I want to learn what Nevada is doing to cut down on guzzling water and why other states might follow their lead.

So, to start, I went on the hunt for the state's most wanted water nemesis, thirsty grass lawns.

This early in the morning, the warm rays of the rising desert sun are slowly starting to light up the sky over these houses. You might not think of suburban neighborhoods when you imagine Las Vegas, but more than 2 million people live in the county, which, despite being in the desert, has homes with emerald lawns gleaming with sprinkler water.

This home has a very nice lawn. A lot more grass in this neighborhood, but again, pretty small lawns. So just kind of like squares of grass framed by a lot of rocks and desert-y bushes and trees. I'm driving behind a cop car, or what looks like a cop car. The vehicle has a badge on the side, and instead of the common police slogan, to protect and serve, it says, to protect and conserve.

The car is white with blue cartoon-like waves. At the top is a bar of flashing lights. We're out here patrolling for water bandits. We are taking a left on a street called Beach Walk. Oh wow, they just turned the patrol lights on as they entered this neighborhood.

This is the Las Vegas Valley Water District's Water Waste Investigation Unit. And they're out here early in the morning to try and catch people wet-handed. I promise I didn't make that up. That's a slogan they use.

Okay, the patrol car is pulling over again. We see some sprinklers on the left. I'm gonna jump out of the car and take a look and see if there's any leaks, if anything is flowing out onto the sidewalk, if they're allowed to be watering right now, and if any of that water flows into the road.

Cameron Donnarumma gets out of the patrol car. He's a skinny guy in his early 30s with a serious face. He's wearing a yellow fluorescent safety vest. And there's a badge stitched on the front of his shirt that says, Water Patrol. He's pulled out his phone and is filming sprinklers watering a small patch of grass. Water is running off the grass and into the street.

There is no contributing flow upstream. There also appears to be a broken sprinkler in the front yard of this property. Okay, so tell me what you were just doing there. As we were patrolling the area, we noticed that this irrigation was running. The water was leaving the property, heading down the street. So that is considered a violation according to the Las Vegas Valley Water District. I also did cite that broken sprinkler, the one that's kind of still squirting out.

This broken sprinkler shooting water out onto the street is a satisfying find for Cameron, but a big problem for Las Vegas. Actually, it's a big problem throughout the Colorado River Basin. Watering lawns in Phoenix, Denver, Los Angeles, just to name a few, is a big way cities use their Colorado River supply.

About 60% of Nevada's entire Colorado River budget goes outdoors to things like keeping trees, gardens, and grass alive. So that's why Cameron has this job, a water waste investigator. He says he mostly gives out warnings. But today, he's giving these homeowners a fine because they're repeat offenders. They've been caught wet-handed before. ♪

So Cameron writes out a ticket, hangs it on the garage door, and puts a flag in the grass where the broken sprinkler is. What kind of fine are they looking at? Most single-family homes, the first fine starts at $80. If we return and we notice that the violation has not been corrected, that $80 fine will become $160. It doubles and so on. It will keep doubling until the issue is corrected.

This is how big a deal it is in southern Nevada to waste water on suburban lawns. There are water waste investigators handing out tickets for broken sprinklers. That can be hundreds of dollars. With the drought, the state's share of the Colorado River is shrinking. And every drop counts.

Cameron has lived in Las Vegas most of his life, and he says this job makes him feel like he's making a difference for his community. He's helping to save what he calls its most precious resource. It's water. It's on my mind a lot, actually, even on my days off when I walk past and I'm like, hey, those guys aren't supposed to be watering today.

And when Cameron sees water being wasted, even when he's off the clock, he'll report it. My supervisor does joke, like, oh, I saw your name again on the report. So, yeah, I submit things. I encourage my friends and family to do it, too, for sure.

I'd love to talk about your patrol car. Yes. It feels like you want people to see you. Exactly. Yeah, that's the point. It's very flashy. We have the amber lights on top. Some people confuse this for, you know, like law enforcement. The idea is to catch people's attention. We take that opportunity to educate them. This is very necessary. This is important.

With climate change, with lake meat lowering, you know, this is necessary. When maybe someone doesn't understand the severity of the situation when it comes to Colorado River water resources here in Nevada and Las Vegas, what do you tell them to help them understand why conserving is so important? It's kind of surprising. A lot of people here don't actually realize how much, you know, water irrigation uses. And a lot of people tell me, oh, I take scrimmage.

Fast showers and, you know, I save a lot of water indoors. And I say, that's great. Keep up what you're doing. But at the same time, the outdoor irrigation is the main focus here. Once it goes down the street and evaporates, you know, that's water that's lost forever. Policing water usage is one of the steps that Vegas is taking to make up for the decades when it encouraged people to come here without worrying about running out of water. ♪

Dotting the desert with lush, East Coast-style lawns meant the American dream was alive out West. In Las Vegas, developers built neighborhoods to sell people the desert oasis fantasy, where it's hot and sunny all year round, and front yards are still covered in thirsty Kentucky bluegrass. One of the very first master-planned communities in Las Vegas is a place called Desert Shores.

you

There's more for you at Desert Shores. Desert Shores Apartments, with free membership in the Beach Club, Sandy Beach, Swimming Lagoon, boating, even fishing. A lifestyle that's like a long vacation. Desert Shores Apartments, where there's more for you. More fun, more beauty, more everything. In Desert Shores, the streets are named Summer Lake Drive, Dolphin Bay, Sunset Cove.

There are four human-made lakes, which cover about 60 acres, filled with Colorado River water. And each home came with a green lawn. Desert Shores was built at a time when Nevada's Cup runneth over. Just a few years prior, in 1983, water ran down the spillways of Hoover Dam because there was too much water in Lake Mead.

When Desert Shores was built, fewer than 700,000 people lived in Clark County, where Las Vegas is. That number is now close to 2.3 million.

My name is Jean Zai. I'm a Chicago transplant to Las Vegas. Jean lives in Desert Shores. She's in a bright pink tank top, standing in the shade of the tree in her front yard as she drinks a bottle of water. In 2015, I moved to this beautiful house. I saved money for many, many, many years to be able to come and live here. And I've loved it here ever since.

The homes on Jean's quiet desert shore street have Spanish-style roof tiles, and each front yard is a little different. Some are rocks and desert plants. Others are bright green, fake, with plastic artificial turf. These homeowners have gone along with the city's push to use less water. But Jean's front yard stands out, defiant with grass. ♪

Growing up in Chicago, everybody had a lawn. One of my prized possessions when I bought this house is my lawnmower. It's that pride of ownership. When I look at this house and it has the lawn, it means home to me. But Jean moved to Las Vegas 15 years into the mega drought. And by then, the state had already put a target on grass lawns.

It was against the law for new homes to have grass in the front yard. And Jean could get paid with the Cash for Grass program to replace her lawn with rocks, artificial turf, and desert plants. There's got to be something more to it than take out your grass. And it's ugly, quite frankly. I mean, cactuses are not cute. That's why they're in the desert. ♪

Setting aside whether cactuses are cute, it's true that keeping grass alive in the Mojave Desert is one of Nevada's biggest Colorado River problems. And every drop is needed to keep up with population growth. On top of that, Nevada's already very small Colorado River budget is getting cut. So Las Vegas has had to rein itself in.

That's why this area is ahead of most others in the Southwest when it comes to water conservation. So today, grass is now totally banned at new homes. And places like desert shores where Jean lives are now required by law to spend millions of dollars to tear out a bunch of grass that's already been planted.

After the break, drama over neighborhood grass. And then, when everyone else here is cutting back, why do the casino fountains keep spouting water into the air? For decades, Nevada has paid people and businesses to voluntarily rip out thirsty grass. Now... Are you ready? Big Elvis reads a new Nevada law. It says... The waters of the Colorado River...

distributed by the Southern Nevada Water Authority. That by 2027, you can't use Colorado River water to keep decorative grass alive in Nevada. The law applies to grass that's just there for looks, like alongside streets and medians and parking lots. Thank you very much. Thank you, Big Elvis.

Let's go back to Jean. The grass in front of Jean's house is safe under this law. But the grass around Jean's community, planted in the 1980s when Desert Shores was first built, has to go. They're tearing out grass all over the town.

all over the neighborhood. If you take just a few left turns out of your neighborhood right now, you can see that they've already started the work, the process. When you see them killing the grass, taking the grass out, replacing it with rocks and plants, tell us about the moment when you first saw them doing that work. You know how...

When people are protesting, they'll just like lay in the street. I wanted to do that. I wanted to just lay on the grass just one more time at least. And I wanted to go over there and just kick their shovels out of their hands. And I'm more civilized than that. And of course, they'll make it look, quote, nice. But it's not grass.

And it's definitely already looking way different than it did when I chose to move here. It's looking way different, even from one day to the next, right before my eyes. Just a few streets away from Jean's house, a landscaping crew is dumping a truckload of rocks on a patch of dirt.

Curtis Hyde is a manager with Par 3 Landscaping. He hops out of his truck to talk to me. He's wearing sunglasses and a pair of bright blue sneakers that almost match his blue shirt. So three weeks ago, that was all beautiful grass, and now we've turned off the water, and it's all brown. And the area we're walking now was grass, and now it's all beautifully landscaped with parrots.

with plant material and rock mulch cover instead of grass. Curtis knows all these plants by name. He studied botany in college. He uses that knowledge for his landscaping career here in Nevada, where he grew up. So you've been in landscaping for 30 years. Yes.

I have, yeah. And if you count back when I was mowing lawns when I was eight, it was probably more like 45. Desert Shores was new 30 years ago when grass was the norm and it was everywhere. Do you ever think about how much grass you've removed and how much water that might be saving the city? Yeah, I mean, I know our company has removed over 500 acres of turf.

And so if each square foot takes 10 feet of water to grow grass, you're talking huge amounts of water.

And if Vegas can do it in a very harsh and dry climate of the Mojave Desert, you can certainly do it in the Rockies and in the Great Basin areas. This is exactly what I was hoping to talk to you about because you are, this is your job. You are here right now pulling up grass, killing grass, and replacing it with gravel and desert plants and trees and some artificial turf. How does that make you feel? The West is a popular place to move to and live and

We have a growing population with a resource that's either shrinking or at very best, you know, remaining static. And so I would encourage people to come and visit Las Vegas and just kind of pick our brains, talk to landscapers, talk to the people who manage the water here, say, how have you done it? Other cities might follow Las Vegas's lead.

For the first time ever, 30 water agencies, which supply water from Denver to San Diego, have committed to removing 30% of non-functional grass. The agreement doesn't include anything binding, and it doesn't go as far as Nevada does.

Nevada is still the only state that has banned watering non-functional grass lawns with Colorado River water. Still, some cities across the Colorado River basin are realizing that they can do more to save water at a time when every drop counts. But Vegas' experience shows the longer they wait, the more expensive it'll be if they do eventually decide to outlaw lawns.

Since the 1990s, when Nevada first started its Cash for Grass program, the Water Authority has paid people and businesses close to $300 million to rip out grass. Southern Nevada also restricts when and how grass that's left can be watered, and they educate homeowners on the rules. And Vegas is a city that knows entertainment, so the PSAs don't disappoint.

Reality check! Vegas is enforcing water waste big time. No watering on Sundays or between 11 a.m. and 7 p.m. You could walk by 10 homeowners and ask them if you can water on Sunday and they'd all say, oh no, you'll get a letter in the mail.

Desert Shores hired Curtis to rip out decorative grass. That'll cost the community more than $4 million. And every homeowner here, including Gene, will likely have to pay $1,600 to help cover the cost. There's certainly been some animated board meetings and some people that have been very frustrated.

Curtis went to a Desert Shores town hall in July 2022. It was about the grass removal project. People were yelling out, why do we have to do this or that or the other? Can you just quiet it down for a moment? This town hall is for all of the homeowners, everybody that's here. That HOA person is pleading with people to keep down the ruckus. But they won't back down about the disappearing grass.

Turns out, Jean was one of the ruckus causers. There were so many people booing and hissing and yelling things out that I felt absolutely comfortable saying my piece. I do think that we could all in society do more to reduce waste. But telling me to take out my grass is not the answer.

Look, this whole time we're talking about water in Las Vegas. And you might be thinking, suburban grass? What about the famous downtown Las Vegas Strip? The casinos, the pools, and fake Venetian Canal. The frickin' Bellagio Fountain. You know, that famous scene from Ocean's Eleven. That's the best part. I saved the best for last.

I just got done checking into the Excalibur. It's the giant castle-shaped hotel on the Las Vegas Strip. And I'm walking through the casino and right now there are so many things that are trying to grab my attention with the lights and sounds of the slot machines. But what I'm really excited to see is my hotel bathroom. I'm about to turn on the faucet. Here's the shower and I'm flushing the toilet.

All of this water is going back to Lake Mead. Any water that hits a drain, the faucet, the bathtub, the shower, the toilet, it all gets treated and sent back to the reservoir. And here on the strip, all of the water going down the drains of these giant luxury hotels gets treated and returned to Lake Mead.

So does all the water in all the homes and businesses in all of southern Nevada. This is huge for their conservation efforts. Because every gallon of water the state can put back in the reservoir, they get one gallon credited back to them. When that happens, it's like Nevada didn't use any of that water at all.

Recycling water allows the state to stretch its small Colorado River budget. That water that goes to lawns, it just evaporates. The Strip is pretty busy right now. More crowded than I remember it being when I came here as a kid.

The sun is still up, but people are already in party mode. One guy takes a long sip from a frozen margarita that hangs around his neck. I get stuck in a throng that's gathered around someone dressed as Mickey Mouse.

A showgirl winks at me, calls me sexy, and asks if I'd like to take a photo. For a tip, of course. But I'm not focused on any of that. Instead, I'm staring at the ground. Before every casino is a stretch of lush green grass.

But it's like everything else on the Strip: the fake Elvises, the fake Venetian Canal, the fake boobs. This grass is fake, plastic AstroTurf. There's pretty much no real grass left on the Strip, and the hotels use only about 7% of the state's Colorado River budget.

But the Strip isn't totally free of fault. The second biggest use of water in the state are the giant evaporative air conditioning systems that the hotels use in the blistering desert heat. But starting this summer, Southern Nevada has banned evaporative cooling for new commercial and industrial buildings. But what about those big fountains, like the giant, iconic fountain outside of the Bellagio Hotel?

Dozens of tall shoots of water are dancing to the song "My Heart Will Go On" by Celine Dion. There are hundreds of people on the Las Vegas Strip who have stopped to watch the performance. As the song picks up, the water blasts hundreds of feet into the sky. The force is so powerful, it sounds like a cannon. So how does something like this exist in the desert?

In the shadows behind the fountain, Victoria Rios pushes open a large, heavy door. She has short, spiky hair and wears thin glasses. A large set of keys jangle loudly on her belt as she says something into her walkie-talkie. She's the facilities manager at the Bellagio Fountain. I've been at Bellagio since construction.

And I've been at the company for 33 years. Okay, so you've been with the company since construction, so you actually got to witness the fountain being built. I did, I did. The door opens into the back hallways of the hotel, fluorescent and linoleum and narrow.

I follow Victoria through a series of labyrinth turns. I stay close because if I get separated, I don't have a hope of retracing my steps. I'm starting to think we might be lost. But then the hallway opens into a concrete industrial space with tall ceilings and a strong smell of chlorine. You will soon see as we come around the corner why we call it the Bat Cave because we have our boat dock.

And when we come and go from our lake, it's a little hidden when you're looking at Bellagio. There's a winged Batman logo painted on the tall cement walls. This place does feel like a hidden underground lair, complete with a boat dock. There's a few guys in scuba suits, getting their small maintenance barge ready to head out onto the fountain.

All right, come on board. We can go on board? Yes. Oh my gosh. I'm going to walk the plank. Okay, walk in the plank. Thank you for the assist. And then we go this way? Then we come this way. The boat's engine turns on. Wait, are we actually going out on the lake? Oh my gosh. If you can't tell, I'm kind of losing it with excitement. Okay, so we are on a barge.

And we are now floating out onto the waters of the Bellagio Fountain. I remember when the Bellagio Fountain was being built. Las Vegas was my family's thing. We'd vacation here every couple of years.

My siblings and I would hit the amusement park at Circus Circus, and my parents would do a little gambling, but they'd mostly hang out with us and have fun. The six of us would pack into our Suburban and make the 11-hour drive from Denver. It was 1998. I was eight years old when I first watched the fountain dance to this very same Celine Dion song. I was absolutely captivated.

With each visit afterwards, I'd always look forward to the cool mist of the fountain hitting my hot, sweaty face after walking around the desert all day. So taking a boat out on the water was a pretty amazing moment for me. The crew tests a few of the fountain's high-powered shooters. Before this was the Bellagio Hotel, there was actually a golf course here.

So when I look at all this water, I might think it comes from the Colorado River. But what's the truth there? It's coming from the well that is here that the golf course was built on. Did you catch that? The Bellagio Fountain does not use Colorado River water. It uses well water pulled from an aquifer that's under the Las Vegas Strip.

Actually, many of the famous fountains on the Strip pull from the same underground water source. This is one part of the Las Vegas fantasy that doesn't rely on the Colorado River.

Guillermo Flores is one of the scuba divers on the barge. I only recently learned that the Bellagio doesn't use Colorado River water. Do you ever hear that from people wondering where the water comes from for this fountain? I do make them aware that we use less water than, say, a golf course. Yes, water does. We do throw it up in the air and it does evaporate, but we're constantly recycling the water. It's just like your own water for your own pool. This is...

Water from a well, we treat it, it's refurbished and put right back in. We float back to the boat dock in the Batcave. And all that background noise you're hearing is the hum of the on-site water recycling and treatment system.

This water is too salty to drink. And now, all new fountains are banned in southern Nevada. So, the Bellagio Fountain is not taking away from Nevada's Colorado river supply. It's not the problem. It's hard for homeowner Gene Zai to believe. But thirsty, Midwest-style lawns are a much bigger problem for many cities in the West. ♪

Las Vegas itself is a gamble, a city in the driest desert in the country. But as Big Elvis puts it, There's a lot of bets and gambles going on here, but the house this time is saying, OK, we have to win this one. We have to win the gamble with water. And you know what? It's

The house is doing what the house has always done. They're trying to win and they're going to win this. Big Elvis is proud of what Las Vegas has done. The Vegas residents are uniting and saying, hey, we'll go along with this. We need water here. This is our city. And this is the city not just for us, but for the world to come and enjoy. So we're doing everything possible, most definitely.

Las Vegas is a fantasy built on Colorado river water. But remember, that's also true for Denver, Los Angeles, Phoenix, just to name a few cities who also use the river for big pools and to grow tropical yard plants with green, lush lawns. But out of all of them, it's Las Vegas who has broken this illusion.

They've been forced to confront reality and take the hard and painful steps to embrace the desert a little more, to adapt their city to a West with less water. That means change. It means this desert oasis is less lush as big fountains, pools, and grass become relics of the past.

This place looks different now. But like Big Elvis says, those changes mean Las Vegas is here to stay. That was Michael Elizabeth Sackis, host of the podcast Parched. Parched is a production of the Climate Solutions team of CPR News and Colorado Public Radio's Audio Innovation Studio, part of the NPR Network. This episode was written by Michael Elizabeth Sackis and edited by Aaron Jones and Joe Wirtz.

Production and mixing by Emily Williams. Additional production and editing by Rachel Estabrook. Theme song by Kibwe Cooper. Additional music from Universal Production Music. Artwork by Maria Juliana Pinzon. Kevin Dale and Brad Turner are the executive producers. ♪

This episode of The Sunday Story was produced by Ariana Garib Lee with help from Justine Yan and edited by Jenny Schmidt. The Sunday Story is produced by the Enterprise Storytelling Unit. Our supervising producer is Liana Simstrom and Irene Noguchi is our executive producer. I'm Rachel Martin. Up first, we'll be back tomorrow with all the news you need to start your week. Until then, have a great rest of your weekend.

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