While watching The Grammys on 3 April (and realising I am wayyyy out of touch when it comes to modern music), I suddenly longed for the bright lights of Las Vegas.
The awards ceremony was held in the MGM Grand Garden Arena, and every now and then, we’d catch a glimpse of the famous strip. I recalled my first trip to Sin City, and subsequent vacations there, when I learned how the gambling capital of the US really operated. When they say “money talks”, they’re talking about Vegas.
I can’t remember what decade it was, but best friend Lynne and I were young and not exactly rolling in the moolah when we took our inaugural flight to Nevada. We were booked to stay at The Excalibur, which still sits on the corner of Las Vegas Fwy. and Tropicana Ave. It’s a behemoth of a property that’s more Disney than King Arthur, with more than 4,000 guest rooms.
Much like a lot of the other resorts in Vegas, it looks magical by night and gaudy in the day. In fact, the same can be said of the guests. Anyone who heads out to the clubs looking sparkly and is still up when the sun rises, usually resembles a wilted desert flower by 7am. No judgment – I’ve been there.
On this trip, I learned that valet parking was the only way to go, and no matter where you had to go in a hotel, all paths led through the casino. Whatever directions you needed from the front desk, when you could find it, they always started with: “Make your way through the casino… ”
It took us about 20 minutes to find our rented car in the lot – I think we mixed up the towers – and when you’re dragging a stupid amount of unnecessary luggage behind you, that’s a journey.
I also realised that driving down the strip, while perfect for people-watching, was never a good idea if you were in a rush to get somewhere. It was bumper-to-bumper from the MGM Grand to The Stratosphere. Speaking of the latter, I still can’t believe I rode the rollercoaster around the top (it has since been replaced by other howlingly scary rides). The whole experience is a bit of a blank, but I do vividly recall slamming my back against the wall by the lift, post-coaster, and bashing the call button blue until the doors opened so I could leap inside to safety.
It must have been many years ago, because the ability to leap has long left me. I don’t have the knees.
On that first trip, I won $600 on a Double Diamond Deluxe slot machine. I think that’s the most I’ve ever made on a game of chance. Back then, you still got paid in quarters, so it was a heavy bucket I dragged to the cashier. Now, it’s all tickets. I was so excited. I kept waiting for management to come over and offer us free limos, room upgrades and meal vouchers. I was a winner-winner; where was my chicken dinner?
Of course, it quickly became abundantly clear that my 2,400-quarter bonanza probably did not rank up there with the money being thrown around at high-stakes Baccarat tables. I therefore treated Lynne and I to a slap-up all-you-can-eat-lobster dinner for $10.99 each. Hey, big spender.
The next time we visited Vegas, we stayed at Bally’s, and that became our go-to hotel for many subsequent trips. It was centrally located; the walk through the casino wasn’t 12 miles; and it was on the Las Vegas Monorail. Another resemblance to Disney.
Beyond the gambling, the city is well-known for its amazing shows, and we’ve seen so many of them over the years. All the Cirque du Soleil productions, Bette Midler at Caesars Palace, Rick Springfield (bless him) at the MGM Grand, and Penn and Teller at Rio. We’d always loved the magic of Penn and Teller, and the live show did not disappoint. At the end, you could get pics with the duo, so Lynne and I happily stepped up. The resulting image was hilarious. They are tall and short. Lynne and I are tall and short. Penn wears glasses. I wear glasses. We looked like their sisters visiting them from out of town.
Another show we attended – which was in its infancy as a Vegas residency back then – was Thunder From Down Under. No, it was not some incredible lightning laser show reminiscent of the storms that gather over Uluru (formerly Ayers Rock). Rather, it was a host of scantily-clad muscular male dancers, making their way across the stage to the encouragement of their screaming female audience. I don’t know what the Thunder’s theatre looks like now, as the show has stood the test of time and is still going, but when we went, you’d think we were attending a Tupperware convention. It was a nondescript large room with basic round tables and chairs, no cloths, and a platform set up in front of a bit of pipe-and-drape. I spent the hour mortified and deaf in one ear, thanks to the enthusiastic woman sitting on the opposite side of me to Lynne, baying her delight into the right side of my face. I was probably the only person to leave that show thinking, “What they really need in there are some silk plants and better lighting.”
By our fourth or fifth excursion to Vegas, I understood that tips, tips and more tips could get you pretty much anything. You want a better seat at a show? Tip the host. It says valet is full? A $10-$20 bill will change things in your favour. No table at the famous restaurant? I believe Mr. Benjamin Franklin may be able to assist in this matter.
It wasn’t an unspoken policy I necessarily agreed with, and sometimes it just wasn’t worth it to pay up, but on those occasions when we were going out on the town there and I was wearing heels, I wasn’t about to park miles away, make my way through the casino…
It’s been ages since we’ve travelled to that side of the US – and not just because of COVID. We’ve had other countries to visit and new sights to see. Besides, if you try to make it back to Cayman in one day from McCarran Airport, you either have to take a red-eye to Miami or Charlotte (which is brutal) or get up at an ungodly hour of the morning for a 6am flight. Either is no bueno. Alas, I found that tipping the pilot doesn’t work. That magic ceases to work outside the bounds of the boulevard.
“Hey, I’ve got $100 burning a hole in my pocket. Whaddya say we just avoid Miami altogether and turn this bird south to Cayman for the winter?”
Despite the annoying flight schedules and the fact that that world of dinging fruit machines is more of a fairytale land than real life, I must admit that I’m getting a hankering for a trip to Las Vegas. Hey, if Elvis was a fan, why not me?
“Bright light city going to set my soul, Going to set my soul on fire… ”
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