Vegas, Baby!

July 4, 2006
Las Vegas, Nevada

Kelly’s heart sank as we rolled into Sin City… she suddenly realized that the one place they’d selected for a longer stay, for a fun friendly reunion, was the city that she already knew she hated more than any other. On a par with Oklahoma, in fact (albeit in a totally different way). Luckily, the presence of fun, intelligent, and appropriately silly friends who also could only experience Vegas with ironic detachment made the sojurn as entertaining as possible. Worst of all, she suspected it was her idea to meet there in the first place.

We picked up our cargo at the airport and set off in search of food and lodging. We secured some cheap stays at the Tropicana and ate at a grossly overpriced diner that was dark with mirrored ceilings and pink and purple neon trim. This place looked like a roller rink and charged $4.50 for a single little snack box of Frosted Flakes. Vegas.

Rolling up the strip to the Trop, we then had to stand on line for 45 minutes just to check in. The hostess asked if we’d like a room with pool view.
“Does it cost extra?”
“Honey, everything in Vegas costs extra.”
“Then, no.”
While Kelly was checking in, Joe managed to lose his first $60 at the roulette wheel. Vegas.

After a brief nap time, we set off to explore the Strip. Joe and Matt began collecting the nudie girl trading cards that helpful hawkers were thrusting at us on the street. We were sure there was some game that could be formed…

“Do you have any Tawnys?”
“No – go Fish! Do you have any red star pasties?”
“Drat! That was my last pair!”
Vegas.

Superstar female impersonators include: Joan Rivers, Bette Midler, DIana Ross, Barbara Streisand, Dolly Parton, Cher, and... Michael Jackson?

As Kelly has been living mostly in Europe for the past two years, she was a bit amazed that all of the traveling she’d done in this period could have been much more effectively condensed into a quick leisurely stroll in Nevada. Monte Carlo, Paris, Venice, the castles of England, the Italian Riviera, Morocco and Istanbul, Rome, and even provincial New York City – we wondered how many people figure this is as authentic a representation of different cultures as they need. I’ll add Epcot center to that category. Given that only about 20% of Americans currently have a valid passport, this may well be true. And there is certainly plenty to explore on our own shores, as we have demonstrated. Still, the tendency to build little bite-sized pieces of other cultures and put them in a nice tourist-friendly package is something I’ve only seen in America. This is true not just of Vegas, but in a myriad of “Little Copenhagens” or “Authentic Alpine Villages” that we’ve seen advertised along the way. I’d say that you never see an America-town in Europe, but I guess that is manifested in the McDonald’s and Wal-Marts that dot the landscape there.
Vegas.


Who needs France?



Kurt's accurate response...

We walked through the least tacky-appearing of the bunch, the Bellagio, where there is some beautiful Chihuly glass in the lobby and a really lovely garden. Parched, we sat for $12 drinks. They were good, but still. Vegas.

Chihuly glass at the Bellagio

Then, being the 4th of July, and America’s 230th birthday, we set off to watch fireworks. I mean, the Vegas Strip on the Fourth has to have one of the most ostentatious fireworks displays in the U.S. of A., no? No. We walked and walked and walked, alternately being pushed and shoved by the sweaty masses of humanity in search of a vantage point for a display purportedly being held at the Stratosphere, at the far end of the Strip. We made for the monorail to try and get closer and after a 20-minute marathon through endless escalators and slot machines and long tackily-carpeted corridors, we found that it was a wicked rip-off at $9 for a round trip. So we sat among the crowd on The Strip waiting for a display that never materialized. Fireworks are Kelly’s favorite event of the year, and Joe loves to blow things up, so to say that we were extremely disappointed was an understatement. Kelly was downright miffed because she suspects that’s why she thought up the “4th in Vegas” idea in the first place. Hissss… Vegas.

We eventually made our way over to the Rio casino where we bought another $12 drink – but this one came with a fantastic Cocktail style booze juggling display and was well worth it… okay, Vegas!


Our $12 Mai-Tai display. Kelly would like to point out that she is actually conversing with other folks you just can't hear because they aren't holding the camera. She recognizes she sounds like an idiot, but couldn't figure out how to replace the soundtrack in a timely fashion. /End disclaimer


Plum tuckered out from our fruitless, explosion-less pilgrimage, we took a cab to have dinner at the establishment next to our hotel: Hooters. Yes, the wings were impressive, but, to give a honest and comprehensive review, the Hooters were not. We speculate that there’s a lot more opportunity for women who trade on being amply endowed in Vegas, so the competition for busty waitresses must be tough. Kelly was excited when we were seated, since it sounded karaoke was on tap. As it turns out, this was actually the hired entertainment for the night. Matt wanted to howl like a dog. Beth shoved paper towels in her eardrums. Couldn’t they just get an Elvis impersonator? Vegas.

Following our meal, we actually enjoyed a really fun night of gaming at Hooters. Joe, Matt, and Kelly donated a healthy chunk of play money to our friendly blackjack dealer, Brenda. We’d have happily lost more money if her shift hadn’t ended. Beth and Kurt did not gamble, but Beth “Hot Dice” was a hit at the craps table, helping Joe recoup some of his treasure. We decided to get while the gettin’ was good and retire for the night.

Nothing says "Happy Birthday America!" like a trip to Hooters.

Matt loves Hooters

Wendesday, 5 July 2006
The next day was more chill, and Kelly and Beth particularly enjoyed not having to pack up and move on. The gang found a good and wicked cheap breakfast at “Ellis Island” off the Strip (highly recommended – two boxes of Frosted Flakes for $1.25 – much better!). We then set off to achieve one of Beth’s goals for the trip: shoot a gun. Kurt had seen advertisements for the Nevada Gun Store in the airport “Shoot a machine gun!”, so off we went. Walking in the door was a trip in itself. Lots of folks in wife beaters staring at walls of guns for sale and practice. We chose our weapons (an automatic M-16 for Beth and an automatic AK-47 for Kelly, with a .38 revolver to share), donned our protective eye and ear gear and headed into the firing range.

"My five year old son shot this Uzi just a couple of weeks ago!"

Merchandise at the gun store: "I don't call 911"

Beth Harvey Oswald

As soon as the door opened and the rat-a-tat sound of machine guns echoed, Kelly’s fight or flight response kicked in and she wanted to get the heck outta there. But, with her motto to ‘try anything once’, in she went and shot her AK-47, well aware that the machine she held to her chest could, and in fact is designed to, kill humans. Beth had a bit of a tricky M-16 and so had to wait for another clip of ammo before she laid into her paper man. We both enjoyed the revolver quite a bit better – the handgun offered far more control, less kickback, and did not leave unsightly gunpowder marks all over their arms. Beth truly felt like Louise holding that thing. The good thing about the Anchovy Pizza Principle, is that once accomplished, a task never, ever need be done again, and we will not be taking up arms again, thank you very much.

Following that lovely experience, Beth wanted to stick her head under a pillow and Kelly found a corner to rock in back at the hotel. We met up again later in the evening to do some more gambling on the Strip and to search for Elvis impersonators (we finally spotted one dealing poker at the Riviera). We hopped in the Snaab, put the top down and set out for dinner at Capriotti’s sub shop – a Delaware original! But they were closed. So we went downtown, to the old Vegas where we enjoyed the “Fremont Street Experience” light show and a copious buffet at the Golden Nugget. We cruised back up the Strip in our hot auto-mobile, and then lost a bit more money before heading to bed.

Vintage Vegas

The Fremont Street Experience

Crusin' the Strip

Thursday, 6 July 2006
We woke up, breakfasted once more at the delightfully tacky and cheap Ellis Island, and, sadly, dropped the boys at the airport. We bathed Vegas off the Snaab and pointed once more for Route 66. Hasta la Vista, Vegas.