I know I am in the minority but I'm not a fan. Never have been. Yet here I am, so that I can attend the FMI Show. That would be the Food Marketing Institute show and I am here representing my magazine, YUM Food & Fun. With that said, I am still not a fan.
When I was a little girl, I remember once driving through Vegas at night with my parents. Coming over the grade, far off in the distance, a small strip of colorful lights appeared like a fairly land in a sea of darkness. I thought it was the most magical thing I had ever seen and couldn't wait to be there. Well, my reaction to seeing The Strip has changed considerably since then. Thousands of gold tinted hotel windows sparkling in the sun like sequins from a drag queen's closet, flashing neon, hookers for hire, and row upon row upon row of noisy, glowing slot machines and poker tables - tacky, tacky, tacky.
It is only for work that I am embarking on this journey to Mars. Leaving Sunday (Mother's Day!) I departed from the Burbank airport where I was randomly given a hand dusting. Something caused the machine to go off (really!?!) and I was taken to a room where I was fully frisked. Yes indeed, this was going to be a fun trip! I passed the pat down and soon I was Vegas bound on what had to be one of the bumpiest flights I've ever had to endure. It made me very nauseated. While others were white-knuckling their chair seats and counting Rosary beads, I was fanning myself with the emergency instructions card and praying like mad I wouldn't throw up - which I very nearly did. Could it be that I don't travel well anymore? Is that part of menopause too? Or was it simply a subliminal reaction to knowing where I was headed?
Ah, I'm livin' the life, huh?
At last we landed and I "de-planed" into the casino that is otherwise known as the Las Vegas airport - where you can gamble with your boarding pass. (This is true.) On route to my hotel, the taxi passed a homeless man at a stop light begging with a hand-made cardboard sign. He was not unlike other homeless people you might see on any given freeway off ramp were it not for what he had written on the sign: "Why lie? I need a beer". Yes, with all due empathy for the plight of the homeless, I was definitely in Vegas.
Booked at the Luxor - the giant blue pyramid, I walked in and even with smoking zones and air purifiers I was immediately assaulted with the smell of cigarettes and cigars - but your senses adjust to that quickly. I viewed the casino floor on my way to the room. I believe that Vegas is the only place left on earth where you can find little old ladies still sporting blue hair. They clutch their cups of chips and coins and look a little lost as they wander the aisles of slot machines looking for the one that is calling their name. I find the whole town depressing.
The elevators at the Luxor are weird too. Since the building is a pyramid, they travel up and sideways - giving even a sober passenger like myself the sense of being drunk. I guess drunk passengers don't even notice. And there are plenty of those. There used to be a day when you could come to Vegas and get a delectable all-you-can-eat buffet for seven dollars. Now a bowl of Cheerios is eleven bucks.
The room is bleak. I turned on the TV and the "hotel channel" comes on immediately. I learned within my first 2 minutes of viewing that I can watch all the porn I want without worry as no movie titles will ever appear on my bill! "So what are you waiting for?" the announcer asks me. Well, frankly, a cold day in hell.
There is no complimentary coffee in the room. Possibly because there are about 14 Starbucks located throughout this hotel alone. I venture downstairs to find a cup and see the friendly, welcoming image of a young woman in a black leather, butt-showing, bikini and heels dancing on top of a table. Looking the other direction I spot a 30-something paunchy man in flip-flops and shorts wearing what looks like an electric blue, 3 foot long bong held on with a strap around his neck. But even in Vegas you can't just walk casually through the halls smoking pot so on closer inspection, "the bong" has the name of a bar on it and he's just wearing 3 foot long bong's worth of beer. Oh the glamour!
Here's the thing - there are much better hotels here (Mandalay Bay, right next door, for one) but you cannot, no matter where you go on the strip or outlying areas, escape the seven different songs being piped into the casinos at one time or the "ding, ding, ding, ding, ding" of slots paying out, or the people who have come from all over the world in their Vegas best of low cut blouses, see through white pants with thong underwear showing through, gold chains, too much makeup, and considerable lack of self awareness (yes darling, you do too look your considerable age), or aging cocktail waitresses, or drunken college students, or over-priced menus, or worst of all - the depressing ragged, expressionless faces of gambling pros who look like they are spending their last nickels playing three machines at once. It is a cacophony of ugly and I cannot understand why anyone ever comes here on purpose. Even a decent Broadway show is $250.00 per ticket. It would be cheaper to get a good fare on Jet Blue and see it in New York!
So, I stay pretty much in my dark room, where, in the four nights I stayed, they never changed the sheets once. Now at home, I can deal with that. But at a hotel? Really?!?!? Yet it beats "the scene" so I stick it out - unless I am eating or at the FMI show (which is a welcome relief from the room). And it was worth coming for the business. That and seeing my old friend Marc who was also here on business. I recently re-connected with Marc again (yes on Facebook). We had dinner together and caught up on about 30 years and it was a lovely evening. We had been in a couple of plays together during my days at the San Jose Civic Light Opera and we had stories and people to talk about for 4 hours. And we had changed but we were the same and that was very nice.
Oh! And I did decide to go to the Titanic exhibit at the hotel where I saw an impressive amount of artifacts recovered from the ocean floor. It was extremely interesting although I don't know why I wasn't prepared for how it would impact me emotionally. I was very saddened by it in the end. Of course the exit door dumps you straight into the Titanic gift shop where you can buy replicas of Titanic china and soap and deck chairs and throw blankets and I thought: "and someone would want to serve dinner on Titanic china - why?????" And you could even buy a locket necklace with little piece of coal from the Titanic debris pulled from the wreckage for $30.00. I'm trying to think of the occasion I would want to wear that to. Uh, none.
But I have to find something nice to say so here it is: The most wonderful thing about Vegas is that you get to leave it.
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