Las Vegas: city of spectacle and misery. Usually more the latter than the former.
I’ll start out by saying: I am not a fan of Vegas generally. I was sent to the city far too many times for work over the years– and every single time, became even more determined that it just wasn’t my scene.
So how did I end up there on my birthday? Well.
One downside of being out on the road, is you miss out on certain things by not having a stable geography. And one of those is live music– when you live someplace, you can always have the opportunity to hear about acts coming to the area that you might want to check out. And because you live there, you can make a plan and work it into your schedule. (You see where I’m going with this).
As a nomad, I might see a billboard or two advertising a concert when rolling into (or out of) a town, but rarely does an act I really want to see line up with my visits. And I was missing the joy of going to concerts, as I hadn’t really attended them for years and years, thanks to the pandemic– enter: musicians doing Las Vegas residencies.
Enter: Sting, and Foreigner.
But first, let me say that after my breakup, my friends scooped me up like you’d scoop up a baby bird having fallen from the nest. One of them dropped everything in a very chaotic moment of her life to fly all the way to Las Vegas just to make sure I wasn’t alone on my birthday (the free ticket to Sting and Foreigner couldn’t have hurt, but I like to think she made the trip mostly for me).
Before she arrived, I was camping out at Lake Mead National Recreation Area. Have you been to Lake Mead? Probably. If so, you’ve had an existential crisis– or at least, I don’t see how anyone COULDN’T– as the water level is so obviously, disastrously low.
Knowing this from previous visits, and knowing this year’s water level drop threatens the Hoover Dam itself, I wasn’t expecting to see much… lake… when entering the recreation area.
That was the correct inclination.
See that tiny van up on a ridge in the photos? See Mac laying out on his bed, enjoying the sun? Well, ALL of that should be underwater. There were fragments of tiny shells under my feet as I walked around my campsite, which made me wonder just how recently this area had been covered.
Once you get off the paved roads in the Lake Mead National Recreation Area, the crowd totally thins out to nothing. Most folks coming through are RVers or tent campers, and the unmanaged roads aren’t conducive to either– so vans and 4×4 vehicles had the run of the places furthest in, and thus– there weren’t many of us set up on the most distant part of the desert landscape.
The water WAS so much lower in level than it should be. But was still pretty to camp near-ish to. I imagine most folks have only seen Lake Mead from the famed bridge overlooking the Dam, as that is where the parking lots are right off the byway. But seeing Lake Mead without the context of the dam was a nice perspective, as there was no evidence of the manmade where I spent a few nights.
Best of all, on my last night there– there was a full moon that rose above the mountains and lake, and Mac was so chuffed to see it. He must have been hearing all sorts of wildlife scurrying across the desert as the night awoke, but I was just transfixed by the brightness of the moon– which seemed unusually bright, and lit up the whole valley as it rose. (And if you’re wondering: of course I texted ‘Moon’ about this and shared a few photos).
Then, I headed into Las Vegas to meet my friend at the airport. Only to almost take the top of my van off entirely trying to pick her up at arrivals (the “low clearance” signs came out of nowhere, and I had just enough time to pull off). After that harrowing arrival, it was time to get out to see the town.
You’ve seen really nice photos of Las Vegas, right? Or you can Google shiny pictures of the strip. So you hardly need to see more– which is why I focused my camera solely on the most absurd things on the strip that I could find. Here’s a photo collection of some of the most disappointing things I saw in Las Vegas. (Only the photographable things, as some were not, and some were people). Please enjoy.
Not enough terribleness? How about this… merchandise???!!
There really aren’t words for how over-the-top Las Vegas is. I always think of it as America’s “ID”– everything in excess, totally over-the-top. Which I suppose, is why Carrot Top still has a job there. And also, everything terrible about us too.
My friend and I were walking on the strip and only had to go half-a-mile, and in that time, we heard both a gay slur and a the “n” word said loudly by passers-by, who were headed the other direction. It was ugly, and a reminder that those barely-veiled feelings are always there, and then alcohol brings out the absolute worst in people to-boot.
I think the secret to Las Vegas is not to really drink much at all. I had somehow not remembered the way drinking is a contact sport in Vegas, as the strip sidewalk is always a bit narrow and you’re always somehow coming into contact with idiots who DID drink too much. (*Reminding you that ‘nah’– you don’t want to have a drink that badly after all).
The Neon Museum (of course) is not to be missed when in Las Vegas. For those who don’t know about it (it is hardly new, so skip this paragraph if you do know of it), the Neon Museum is a non-profit entity that collects the “bones” of old neon signs that made the Las Vegas strip famous, but were taken down by business owners over the years.
As a lover of history, antiques, and all things neon– this was a slam dunk for me. I love supporting the mission of preservation (and at-times, restoration) work the museum is doing.
I had been before, but had only been there during the DAY– a friend had gotten married there in 2015 in wonderful morning light, and while that was a great way to see ALL the neon signs in the neon boneyard (only about 1/2 work and can be lit at night), I wanted to see the full glowing experience of the lit neon signs. So, I booked a ticket for the night tour.
I happened to get a gentleman who was conducting his first tour that night– so I can’t say that was awesome. But the commentary was mostly about the businesses that hung the signs, and less about the artists that made them (that wasn’t always known). The tour had some interesting tidbits, like the famed ‘Moulin Rouge’ sign (pictured as the homepage image of this blog post) was created by a Black female, as the sign was designed for an all-Black casino and club. And the “Red Barn” (pictured above) was one of the first queer bars in Las Vegas.
The Neon Museum does restore some broken signs, when it’s feasible to. So while the ticket price is not tame, this 501c3 is re-investing the money into keeping history alive.
Speaking of keeping history alive, I found the last remaining “Sigma Derby” game in all of Las Vegas. By accident! I had read this Atlas Obscura article about the game, the very last of its kind. But I had forgotten where it was– when lo and behold, my friend and I were cutting through “The D” Casino– yes, the name of the casino is “The D” (which we decided must have been created before internet slang).
The Sigma Derby is a mechanical game that only costs a quarter. It’s no wonder these games went out of fashion with more modern casinos, where the buy-in to sit at any table is $15 bucks plus.
The game was so charming– everyone watched the mechanical horses bounce up and down jauntily as they made their way to the finish line, cheering them on as if it was a “live” race. The game was a joy to play, and provided a cheap-and-cheerful alternative to anything else in any other casino.
As these games are incredibly difficult to maintain (the artisans who do it are retiring or departing the earth), and because casinos don’t find them profitable, this table was literally the last of an era. We loved it, and would have sat there for longer had the change machine not broken (bring quarters!).
I don’t tend to eat fine food in Las Vegas, as I assume it’s mostly overpriced and metered to a tourist palate, which does not always result in loads of flavor. My friend and I agreed on this point, and ended up at some dives that were really enjoyable. The Omelet House Mall (yep, it says ‘mall’) was a winding maze of a place, with a line marker that extended out the door.
Luckily, it was a weekday, and we got in easily– I can’t imagine the weekend wait. The crowning jewel of Omelet House was its breakfast potatoes, not hashbrowns nor home fries, these lightly-fried, fresh potato chips were very thin and light, and complimented the huge omelets easily (do yourself a favor and get the smaller-sized omelet, the bigger one is insane).
Now, on to the concerts! Sting was the first show we saw, about 5 rows back from the front.
Sting was doing his best “The Man in the Yellow Hat” (minus the hat) impression in his yellow suit. Which truly, made me kinda want a yellow suit, as he wore it so well. He played many of my favorite songs, and his ‘stage banter’ consisted of good storytelling– it was introspective, and shed light on how (or why) he wrote many of them. It was a chill vibe, and a ‘stay in your seats mostly’ kind of concert.
Unlike Foreigner, the next night.
Being just over forty, I was just a kid when huge-hair rock bands of the 80s were touring– and though I loved the music (still do at-times), I never got to see any of them live. And BOY, was it a fun experience to remedy that– these guys might be aging, but they came out IN FORCE. There was huge graphics, massively loud guitar solos, a KEYTAR solo, and more guitar stunts than I’d ever seen before (playing the guitar upside down, anyone?!).
The whole thing was a ridiculous spectacle! It was loud and silly, and the time flew by. If you are not familiar with the band name, then you know their songs. Foreigner was behind more hits from the 80s and early 90s than you might think– and they put on a HELL of a show. Only one of the original (founding) members is still in the band, the lead guitarist.
I’d go see Foreigner again in a heartbeat.
My friend introduced me to Fremont Street on this visit, which I’ll refer to as the ‘Average Man’s Las Vegas Strip.’ Much cheaper to stay and play there than the typical strip, this place was crowded, bawdy, and absolutely more for the ‘little guys’ with less coin to throw around.
Hot dogs, hamburgers, and chains like Steak n’ Shake and Dunkin’ were the main draws here, and the party atmosphere that made the strip look stuffy and tame. I am glad I saw the crowds on Fremont Street, which were both less white and less affluent than the patrons at the prestigious casinos. It felt more like hanging out with the everyday folks, and even though the scene was NOT my scene– it was a fun spectacle to see, as zipliners literally glided above the cavalcade of lights and screens.
We picked our way through the dense crowd on Fremont Street to reach “Don’t Tell Momma”– a combination karaoke-and-piano bar. Meaning, there was no backing track for karaoke– NO safety net. Just a talented guy playing the piano, taking his lead from YOU. Yikes.
The crowd was so welcoming, I jumped up and sang “Drops of Jupiter” — which the crowd seemed to love. But it was nerve-wracking as hell! I will sing karaoke anywhere, anytime, but I got nervous flying without a safety net. The piano player was gracious and good, and the crowd was a totally mixed bag of former high-school-musical-theater stars, and everyone else. It was a good time.
Don’t worry– I did not get married at the “A Special Memory” DRIVE-THRU wedding chapel. I did peep the menu though– it’s hard to see in the photo, but basically, the ala carte services include ‘3 post cards’ or ‘1 t-shirts’ or ‘rose presentation’– and for some reason, the services are listed as “Appetizer, Breakfast, Lunch, Dinner, or Dessert”– which I do not totally understand. They even offered a WEDDING RING– for only $39! Can you imagine how high-quality that ring must be?!
You can also get a souvenir mug of your wedding for $6, or a bumper sticker for $2. After staring at this sign for awhile, I realized these were all ways to commemorate a… drive-thru wedding. Since brides and grooms usually get months of preparations and have favors, I guess these were the… favors of the Less Planful. It was not open when I went by, or I would have asked the owners to tell me all their stories.
They must have a million.
In 2023, I became the kind of person that spends my birthday in Las Vegas. Which just goes to show you, you never stop surprising yourself, even as you get older.
Special shout-out to my buddy from Seattle, who made this trip with me, so I could have a great flipping time on my birthday rather than sulking alone!
I’ll end this post with a pilgrimage I made to… the Versace store, located in the Forum shops of Caesar’s Palace. Why did I do that? Fans of the terrible and tremendous flop “Showgirls” will remember, it’s pronounced: “Ver-SAYCE”.
Posted by Sun
