Anyway, just a few random observations to close the book on this one:
Thanks for all the recommendations for places to eat. My convention was at Bally's. And most of its attendees stayed at Bally's. So, honestly, most of my meals were either on the grounds of Bally's or at the adjacent Paris hotel/casino. A couple of Miami Herald colleagues, a couple of Herald bosses and I had dinner at a really fun, dive sort of French restaurant, Josette's Bistro, featuring the dinner cabaret show of Kiki Kalor. Certain people had better not piss me off. I have photos and video of them dancing with Kiki...as well as a few pics of us all shaking tambourines and wearing stupid hats.
I can see how easily-influenced people could get overwhelmed in Vegas. It has an air about that mimics the old New York City stereotype of a city where people come to chase their dreams or flee their nightmares. Over just a few days I met a handful of younger people who had moved to Vegas from small and/or quiet towns in order to get discovered as singers or dancers or actors, etc. They were all bartenders. Several of them had been slinging suds for two or more years. I wish them luck, but...
The lights on the strip are sick, as the kids say. At night I always felt like I was on the verge of a seizure or sensory overload or something.
I was blown away by how many older folks I saw sitting at the slots when I'd cross the casino floor on the way back to my hotel room after a day's work. And after I'd changed clothes and come back downstairs for an entertaining evening they were still there - same people. And when I headed back to my room in the wee hours of the morning to call it a night, they were still there - same people. Is that really a fun way to enjoy the twilight years?
There is an airline that rhymes with Irit Airlines that is the real life incarnation of Soul Plane. I don't mean that as a racial commentary. I mean it in the sense that this airline whose name rhymes with Irit Airlines is triflin'. Seriously, I don't think anyone who has ever flown Rhymes-with-Irit will fault me for saying that airline can go and violate itself with a rusty pipe and a tree branch. I got more grief this morning trying to get checked in and get to my plane than anyone who isn't on the TSA's no-fly list ever should. And Rhymes-with-Irit charges you to check luggage and only allows you to use credit/debit cards to buy drinks or snacks on their flights. Tsk, tsk.
OK, I could ramble on for hours, but I'm tired. Jet lag is no joke after five-plus hours on Rhymes-with-Irit and a three-hour time difference.
I'll write more tomorrow. In the mean time, enjoy a few pics from the trip:
Me and my "adopted" kid sister, Sarah Hoye, a great reporter for the Tampa Tribune newspaper, outside of the Eiffel Tower and the Paris hotel/casino.
Elvis - the real one, seriously; he promised he was the real deal, me, and a Marilyn who came to Vegas a few years ago to chase her dreams but then gave up. I swear I'm not joking. Funny as this was, it was also kind of sad. Good dreams suck when they don't come to fruition.
The light/water show in the fountains outside the Bellagio.
Labels: Las Vegas