LAS VEGAS — LATELY, a chronic question in Las Vegas is how to make our city more livable. Look at any online list to see what defines livability and you’ll find categories like “best foodie cities,” “best golf cities” and “best places to retire,” cities where work and cars don’t seem to exist, but craft breweries are abundant.

When people discuss livability, I picture the abandoned van that has been parked outside my apartment complex for seven months. It advertises a social network that promises casual sex. “Find the hottest hookups. Guaranteed,” its side reads. At some point it was tagged with spray paint, and for several weeks accompanied by a discarded, upturned couch.

This is a part of living in a low-income neighborhood. Vandalism. Discarded things. It’s also a part of living in Vegas, where worse than getting stuck in traffic is getting stuck next to the “Girls! Girls! Girls!” truck that tows its 12-foot-tall billboard of three topless women in thongs.

My neighborhood, Paradise, lies in the shadow of the Strip. Though once home to Vegas celebrities like Liberace, it now belongs primarily to working-class residents who like its proximity to casino jobs. It is known for thefts, homelessness and traffic accidents, and locals joke that Paradise is anything but. It also provides access to some uniquely Vegas absurdities: A bus stop crowd might include an Elvis impersonator, and 7-Elevens are filled with locals playing slot machines instead of buying coffee.