Advertisement
Going to Vegas is a bit like going to school or to the toilet. In school you find out what interests you or bores you; you go to the toilet because of a natural urge and to rid yourself of unnecessary waste.
Enough of analogy. So here we are in Las Vegas, courtesy of a Sunday morning flight from San Francisco with Southwest Airlines, the Ryanair of California. This is unfair, because Southwest Airlines were efficient and clean, as well as cheap. They managed to fly us through the cloud around San Francisco and over the Sierra Nevada to give us a crystal sharp view of the desert and mountains surrounding Las Vegas. Couldn’t see much sign of life below. Bit of a shock when we landed and walked through the terminal, a substantial part of which was given over to ‘slots’. I suppose Heathrow could provide a similar service for the gambling addicted traveller. Maybe they could do a deal with Joe Coral and run a book on the flights which get away or don’t, with odds affected by volcano, cabin crew, Willie Walsh or passengers high on gambling fever. They could replace WH Smith’s, who would surely do
a better job as a bookie than a bookshop.
But back to Vegas. What an insane place. First of all that it’s built in the middle of a hot Nevada desert. Then the insanity of its architecture. Then the insanity of 24/7 everything, for people who need 24/7 gambling, sex, eating, drinking and 24/7 being helped home supported by their mates. At first we loved Vegas for its insanity, but most of the pleasure was skin deep. We spent our first afternoon enjoying walking in and out of a few of the iconic hotels on the strip. Our own, the Mirage (pronounced MirARJ, not MIRardge), had most of what you need in a hotel - a comfortable room, with a very comfortable bed, good clean place for ablutions, places to eat and an interesting view - and several things you don’t need. The unnecessary facilities include an acre of slot machines, half an acre of gambling tables (poker, roulette, blackjack, snap ) and several shops selling ridiculous things at ridiculous times of the day, probably selling to people who are unaware of the time of day, as natural light is only provided in very limited areas. Unnecessary piped music is provided in every corner of the hotel, except your own room, but selections from ‘Phantom’ are still in your brain long after you’ve tried to go to sleep.
Siegfried and Roy (of big cat fame) used to perform at the Mirarj, at least until they had an accident with a lion?/tiger?Liberace? . They’ve obviously gone for the safer option recently, as one of the open air areas behind the hotel is given over to the Siegfried and Roy Dolphin Show. Not being fans of big fish (apart from fried cod), we declined the offer to see the show for a $25 fee, opting instead to sit under palm trees by the pool. All good except for the adolescent drum n bass thumping out from the speaker attached to the tree just behind your lounger (and everyone else’s). But then you’re insane if you come to Vegas for peace and quiet. So shut up or get out.
Enough of the Mirarj - it had plenty of pluses, including its location. Right in the middle of Las Vegas Boulevard South (‘The Strip’). Right next door to Caesar’s Palace and the Forum Shopping Centre. We strolled past the indoor Trevi Fountain, down the indoor Appian Way, past the pizzerias, trattorias, gelaterias with all kinds of panini available under a blue sky celing. Didn’t Elvis perform here at Caesar’s Palace? Maybe he too pigged out on some this stuff? Venezia, across the road from our place scored higher than most places. The upper storey Grand Canal with (indoor and outdoor) gondola rides was impressive and fun. ‘Pari s’ - just along the road was an architectural mess and not much to remind you of real Paris, except the Eiffel Tower. I should have got in as French language consultant for the ‘signage’ around the place. This may sound sniffy, but will there be some who go to Paris having learnt their French from the signposts around the place. I have not made up any of these examples: Le Boulevard Shops & Restaurant ; L’Hotel Elevators; Le Champagne Slots; Self Parking; Le Car Rental . Still - Les Toilettes was correctly spelt, although the ‘Les’ is a bit redundant, even if you’re not desperate. Paris did however have a great place to eat. ‘Mon Ami Gaby’ felt authentic and had very good food, ours being served by a waiter who seemed French, but turned out to be another fraud - he was from Quebec. We had a good time there, watching the all singing all dancing fountains of the Bellagio across the road. We spent our second and final evening in Vegas going upmarket, eating in a restaurant in the Bellagio. Waiter rather up himself, but we had good, if expensive food.
When it’s dark in Vegas you see what it is - a giant kids’ playground and funfair. The neon could probably power both Africa and Blackpool, with enough left over for the Keepmoat Stadium,Doncaster. It was actually easier to read a newspaper in the street than from the bedside light in the Mirarj. Funfairs are great now and then -maybe one summer evening a year. Two evenings was plenty and certainly certainly two afternoons was more than enough. Under a grey afternoon sky, the Vegas strip looked morethan a bit sad. I’d seen the famous golf course behind the Wynn Hotel (the current big thing) and decided that the $500 green fee was a tad high, particularly when club hire would probably cost more than a couple of good steaks. I even left behind the bargain $100 tee shirt in the golf shop. The bit of the course I saw was the 18th hole down below the bar terrace. A 50 foot artificial waterfall behind the green added that much needed touch of the unnecessary, to add to the list.
We gave Vegas a good crack, although we didn’t play fair. We didn’t bet or vomit; we didn’t sing along to piped music or shout on the bus; we didn’t order a room service pizza or sundae or ice cream sundae pizza at 4 am. We didn’t even invest in property. With the recession, property investment has only just begun to pick up in Vegas. Maybe there’s not a shortage of capital - there’s maybe a shortage of crazy ideas for new themed hotel complexes. Maybe it’s time to move on from Treasure Island, New York New York, and the ridiculous and very awful Luxor. I’ve not been to Egypt, but I gather that the real Luxor is in the desert and has lot of sun. A bit like Vegas. A pyramid-shaped hotel is fine, but would you want to spend your holiday in a space that reminds you of a cross between an aircraft hangar, Ikea and an Egyptian tomb? With cynical thoughts like this poisoning us, before 48 hours in Vegas was up, we were pleased to stroll down the Appian Way one last time to find the Hertz office. Thirty minutes later we were motoring across the desert, making for the Grand Canyon via Route 66.
Advertisement
Tot: 0.1s; Tpl: 0.011s; cc: 10; qc: 49; dbt: 0.0466s; 1; m:domysql w:travelblog (10.17.0.13); sld: 1;
; mem: 1.1mb
Heather
non-member comment
Haha, your Vegas post made me laugh! It is quite an insane place, isn't it! The Grand Canyon is much better! My blog is looking for travel reviews, photos, etc, to share. If you have the time, check it out at dirty-hippies.blogspot.com, or email me at dirtyhippiesblog@gmail.com. Continued fun on your travels! Heather :)