Las Vegas. Return



Back in Las Vegas after our trip to the Grand Canyon we had barely five minutes to compose our thoughts before the phone rang and a strange voice invited us to join the assembled masses at the Golden Nugget for coffee.

I‘d never heard Keith‘s voice before, but it somehow seemed to fit the image that I had of him in my mind, although I say 'somehow' because I don‘t go in for imagining what folks on the group look like, so I only had a vague half formed idea to begin with. We strolled across the road to meet the rest of the half formed ideas.
It‘s tricky meeting people that are nothing more than words on a screen, not the least because it‘s tricky picking them out of a crowd. Luckily Alan Sleight was there, just visible amongst all of the other punters in the cafe. We wandered over and sat down. Introductions were made and we felt very much at home.
This first get together was in some ways the most special. This was the ice breaker, the one that proved that it would work. Within moments of sitting down, me at one end of the table and Wendy at the other, we were behaving as though we‘d known these people for years.
Of course, I had known them for years, some in person but all in the internet sense, Wendy was different. She had been terrified of meeting all of these people and here was her big moment. I glanced across occasionally and found that she was looking happy . It all went very well.
Soon enough, the staff were making noises about us taking space without consuming anything, so the party split up with a vow to meet for breakfast. Same folks, same restaurant.
By day, Freemont Street is just a fairly ordinary pedestrianised street, albeit with roof and a couple of garish casinos.
By night, it comes alive.
The Freemont Street Experience is touted far and wide (although I must admit to not knowing just how far, or how wide) and it‘s well worth the visit.
Vegas as a town does little that will interfere with time spent losing money in the casinos. Everything in the way of entertainment is a ten minute disturbance in the gambling 'force. It comes, it goes, life goes on.
Freemont street is a bit of an error of judgement in this department.
The fabled 'Laser Show', which, in reality is not a laser show but a gigantic computer screen running a gigantic graphics programme, lasts for the requisite ten minutes every hour, and people flood from the tables and the slots to see 'this hour's' show. The trouble is, for the people who pocket the 'losings', that the street is rather a nice place to hang out for a while.
The pleasant evening temperatures (in early May) compare favourably with the almost too cool air conditioned interiors of the gambling dens. The crowds that gather for the light shows hang around and create an ambience that is complimented by some very talented musicians who appear out of the night on the backs of pick up trucks and fill the gaps between the lights with some very classy music.
All too soon however it was time to hit the sack and we headed off to a surprisingly quiet hotel room.

Next day, breakfast at the Golden Nugget, but first things first, we had to lounge by the pool with Big Al.

It‘s hard to describe real heat, I mean we‘d found it in any number of places since we fell out of the sky on the previous Thursday but somehow sitting by the Nugget pool at a very civilised hour of the morning, I found the sun to be just a touch too much. It‘s very likely because the pool area there is sheltered from even the slightest draught, whatever...
I‘ve seen a report that came up with a figure of 114 degrees for Vegas on midsummer days.
Forget it. The 93 or so that we had was enough, thank you.
Breakfast came and went. We all got to know each other just a bit better. We talked about the ones who weren‘t there - well you would wouldn‘t you - and we discussed the coming few days. Keith invited everyone to his house on the Wednesday afternoon and everyone said they would love to go.
We were evicted again. It seems that you can stay in the restaurant at the Golden Nugget just as long as you are spending money, or at least consuming what you will eventually pay for, but the moment you stop you develop a form of leprosy that only the staff can see. We left.

Wendy and I wanted to hit the Strip. We wanted some more of the worst and best of this town.

I think we‘d talked about Las Vegas since we first started travelling outside the UK.
America was one place that we both wanted to visit, although our ideas of where and how to visit didn‘t always coincide.
They did, however coincide when we talked about New England and Vegas.
We‘d been to New England and now we were in Las Vegas.
Beth gave us a ride up town, which saved us blowing masses of money on cab fares. We‘d been told that the bus was the transportation of choice but we hadn‘t been told where or how to get one. The damned things were all over the place but as far as I could see, there were no bus stops. Thank heaven for Beth.
She dropped us off outside Caesar‘s palace, which seemed a good enough place to start.
Of course things are never that simple and as it turns out there are plenty of places that make for a better beginning, but I didn‘t know that then.
The first reason for starting somewhere else was apparent the moment we had waved Beth goodbye and turned to face the hotel.
Caesars Mall. The damned place had shops.
Now I suppose that it‘s not a strange idea that a place that is so intent on parting you from your money is going to have more than one way of doing it, but shops, fashion shops, jewellery shops, my worst nightmare. We went inside anyway - it was cooler in there.
Now I don‘t like malls, in fact I don‘t like shops much at all, but this was a new experience.
This was ostentation taken to extremes.
This was obscene in a way that only serious money can be obscene.
I am not a suit man, but I would die for just one of those suits. I am not into expensive watches, I would have killed for one watch. I‘ve often wondered what Wendy sees in huge chunks of expensive jewellery, I see now. I was speechless as I wandered from shop to shop looking at the trappings of the rich and famous.

The final 'gobsmack' in the mall, was a marionette show right at the end of everything. ,br. The mall opens out into a huge circle of stores where, in the centre, sits a a huge 'stage upon which is played out the sinking of Atlantis, by life-sized puppets. Very good puppets, I might add, so good that of the three, I was only really convinced that two were not human. The third was left in my mind with a sort of, 'if two are, then surely they all are' thought.
We left the Princes of Atlantis and headed into Caesar‘s Palace proper.

The first thing that strikes anyone, me anyway, about Caesar‘s is that it‘s just another casino. We‘d seen the two downtown, The Four Queens and the Golden Nugget, and somehow we expected better, or at least different, up on the Strip. It‘s just a casino.
Arguably, perhaps a bit classier, although even there Caesars is a bit below some of the others, but still the same mix of machines and tables. It was quieter but then that might just have been the time of day. Perhaps lunchtime is not peak time in Vegas, I don‘t know.
We suffered the heat for the short walk to The Mirage, even though it felt like a thousand miles. The Mirage, home to the famous white tigers. Famous? Certainly in Vegas they are, much like most of the 'Stars' that appear every night, just not too famous anywhere else.

The Mirage is typical of casinos in Vegas, once you‘re in, there is no obvious way out.
They don‘t want you to leave, not until you‘re broke anyway. Happily they didn‘t score with us, we hadn‘t come to gamble, merely to look.
We looked and left.
We hit the Bellagio. This is the place to stay if you are loaded. It seemed to ooze class, well as much class as anywhere there. But it was still just a casino. Just there to part you from your money.

How tiring is Las Vegas? Very tiring.

I don‘t suppose we were there more than a couple of hours and we were exhausted.
My feet felt like I‘d been walking on hot coals with no shoes. The rest of me just felt finished.
We caught a cab back Downtown and hid ourselves away in our inefficiently air conditioned room at the Four Queens.

Did I mention that it was my birthday?
Well it was and it turned out that a plan had been hatched to mark this momentous event in some style.
But no-one told me. They told Wendy.

They told her that there would be a phone call about 4:30 to let her know where the celebration was going to be.
At five she told me.
With no phone call my beloved had no idea where to drag me screaming and kicking. Oh, she had an idea that it was Main Street Station, but ideas were no good by now.
I got up and walked to the window and surveyed the roofs of the buildings next door.
What to do? I thought. I turned and looked at the phone, willing it to ring, and as I turned my shadow fell across it and I noticed the red light.
I wandered over. The light , which had been outshone by the sunlight that beamed into the room, indicated that a message had been left.
I hit the button. The messages (all of them) said five o‘clock at Main Street Station. It was twenty five to six.

We have never moved so fast. Dressed, out the door, and into the elevator, almost without pausing for breath.
Through the casino at a quick jog and into the street. Main Street Station? Where? Panic. There. That way. Run. In this heat, forget it.

Compromise, walk quickly.

Almost jogging, we crashed into the party and do you know what, it was the most excellent experience. A small sea of faces turned to greet me. A small choir broke into a chorus of happy Birthday and then I was showered in presents. 'This' was worth travelling 5000 miles for.

The next day found us back on the Strip. having solved the oddities of the Bus system in this town. Twice we‘d tried and twice we‘d failed to get a bus uptown. Buses are two bucks and taxis are around fifteen. It‘s worth finding out about the bus.

Other days had seen us wonder about buses and give up, hailing the first cab that came along. This day, Tuesday, saw us resolutely wandering the streets looking for bus stops. Nothing.

We saw buses, but they didn‘t stop. Buses marked 'The Strip' went right on by, to the Strip, without us. Were we doomed to pay the fifteen dollars again?
I asked the question of a woman in uniform. She pointed us up the street to the bus station. Man, we didn‘t know no bus station was up there. I wondered what her uniform was. City guide perhaps. I didn‘t ask. The bus station beckoned.

Well first things first, I needed a drink.
The bus terminal building had machines that demanded dollar bills. I had no dollar bills. I went to the cashier and changed a five into ones and got my drink and wandered outside to the bus.

Two dollars, correct money only. I have three dollars in ones. Hell.

Back to the cashier and change ten dollars into ones. back to the bus. It‘s gone. Another arrives soon afterwards and we are soon on our way, feeling like seasoned travellers now that we know buses.

This time we 'did Circus Circus, Treasure Island and the Venetian. Another hot day at the office.

Circus Circus is a must see, for the simple reason that it is fun.
It‘s a family orientated place that has all the usual gambling stuff on one level, and has, on the upstairs level, what the name implies, a Circus.
Side shows abound and every hour for ten minutes (don‘t want you away from the gambling for too long) a circus act entertains on the centre stage. We saw a trapeze act. A very good trapeze act that had me spellbound for the whole ten minutes. I was sad when it was over.

Treasure Island is, I think, not a daytime place. The whole point of the place, entertainment wise, is the battle of the galleons after dark. During the day? You‘ve guessed it, just another casino.

The Venetian is not just another casino.
It is a casino but it‘s a spectacular building besides. The architecture may have been stolen directly from the original but the execution is very well done. The painted ceilings alone are worth staring at, but venture further inside and prepare to be struck dumb by the sight of the Grand Canal, complete with gondolas and gondoliers. Singing gondoliers.
This does clash, at times, with the 'muzak' being pumped out of the PA but since the singing would be aimed primarily at the couples who pay for a romantic boat trip - and they are a lot closer to the singer than the loudspeakers - it‘s probably excusable.
The canal is lined with more overpriced 'boutiques' but they don‘t detract from an interesting stroll through 'Venice.

Back on the bus, we headed back Downtown. We‘d failed to see some of the sights that Wendy, in particular, was hoping to see, Luxor for example, but it gives us another excuse for coming back . Incidentally we solved the mystery of the buses on our journey uptown, which made it possible to get back with no problem.

Let me explain something here, for anyone who has never been to the UK. In the UK, places where buses stop are called Bus Stops, and are marked thus. This is not the case in Las Vegas, as far as we could see. Nothing marked 'Bus Stop' was obvious to us, which is why we took taxis on earlier trips. ,br. Once on a bus, however, daylight dawns. The stops are marked with the number of the bus that stops there. Simple. Of course, the fact that we had no idea, in those early days, what number bus went where, meant that we would have been no better off, but at least we would have been on the right track.

Tuesday was the evening of the Big Meet. The get-together to end all get-togethers, and the great thing was, we knew where and when it was happening. Main Street Station at five. Deja vu or what. Back to the land of stacked decks and stacked waitresses, I could hardly wait.

In the event it was a truly excellent 'do'. Food, from an enormous buffet, was very good and the company was even better. We must do this again some time.

Wednesday was 'big shock‘' day.
It was cold. Freezing.
We walked out of the hotel intending to stroll along to the Bay City Diner for brekkie, but what we did was turn round and head back to the room for sweaters.
This was unreal. How dare it be cold?

The wind cut through me like a knife as I wandered along for breakfast. The diner had one set of doors tied shut because the wind kept blowing them open. I wondered how the temperature in this place could drop so quickly and by such a huge amount. Dammit, I‘d only just started to get used to the heat.

The afternoon was set aside for a house party at Casa Keith. The man had kindly invited everyone along to his place for a bite to eat and a drop to drink. We nearly missed our ride, which would have been sad, but everything worked out fine. After the chill morning, the sun had warmed the air enough that sitting in the garden was a pleasure.

The upside was that I didn‘t need the sweater that I took. The downside was that I never saw it again. It‘s probably happier in Las Vegas. I would be.

Wednesday evening and one last chance to see the lights of the Strip. We hopped on a bus and away we went.

The wind was back although not as cold, but blowy enough to mean that the show at Treasure Island was cancelled. So that was one disaster. The other one was more of a technical thing.

I particularly wanted to take photographs of the lights. Having seen the place lit up on that very first night, I knew that there were some good shots to be had, but it was only when I got there that night that I realised my mistake.

If you are not 'camera minded' skip this bit.

During our daytime visits to the Strip, I had looked for film for my camera but had drawn the line at paying the quite ridiculous prices asked for what seemed exclusively 800 ISO film, available from machines in any number of places. I‘d found a shop which sold me film for half the price of the machine stuff. Happy? You bet. Until that night.
The reason that Las Vegas has cornered the market in 800 ISO film, is that you 'need' 800 ISO film (or a tripod) to have any chance of making decent pictures of the lights. The alternatives involve blurred pictures or searching for walls to rest the camera on. I have a selection of photographs using both of these aspects.

I have to say that the dancing fountains are good, as is The Volcano. If you‘ve never seen them they are worth looking at. As is the Treasure Island thing. I expect.

One last night in Vegas. One last stroll through the Golden Nugget. One last five dollar donation to the 'Down and Out Casino Owner's' fund. One last pull on the 'Free pull' machine. One last drink at the bar with Big Al and Linda. One last chat with Lil Al. And then it was.....

Up to Donna‘s room to watch The West Wing.

I‘d seen the first ever episode on UK TV but it was on so late that I never kept up with it. But that one episode, seen in a Las Vegas hotel room, had me hooked. We had to plan the remaining Wednesdays of our stay in the US to fit around The West Wing. It‘s hard to believe that the President‘s wife was in Grease.

And so we bid farewell to the wunnerful city of Las Vegas. It was a gas.
Home