I went deep into the belly of the beast today - traveling on sidestreets and avenues in Las Vegas that no GPS is aware of - at least mine wasn't. The one thing that I found out was that the recession doesn't exist on The Strip but it sure does in the homes and shelters that surround it.
A beer or drink in any hotel on the strip is $2 - I had a micro brew at the Main Street Casino - a Red Lager - $2. There is a place just down the street called The Plaza - they have a supper buffet, all you can eat - $7.77 - and it's not from a box, can or bottle - it's the real deal.
Parking in Las Vegas is free at any of the hotels - you come and go as you please - I know, I did it all day. The hotel I am staying, The Palace Station, where OJ and the high IQ set tried to recover his memorabilia, is charging me $64 for 4 nights - free parking. I get a buffet breakfast each morning for $4.00 and I get a freshly made omelet with veggies, ham and cheese and done just the way I like it. They're making home made Belgian Waffles up there - you name it.
As you can imagine being on the road, traveling light, one tends to need to do some laundry from time to time. I went out to the outlet mall yesterday and picked up 2 pair of pants, 2 pair of socks, 3 T-shirts for 75% off.
You're getting the point right - it's cheaper to live in the hotel, buy new clothes when you need them and eat out then it is to live behind the Strip in suburbia. So, beat the recession, come to Vegas!
That said the Casinos are inhabited by folks that make me look like a youngster. If we blend them all together I come with a hermaphrodite composite that is 65 years old, is wearing athletic leisure wear, is usually holding a cigarette one hand, leaving the other free is pull the lever and occasionally lift the beverage of choice. There is probably a walker close by, there may be an oxygen tank, and in some cases folks may be assisted to and from the machines for a bio break - unless of course you know that the machine is just about ready to pay off and you use stealth means to void yourself - think Burt Reynolds in Semi Tough.
A number of folks at the machines have developed tics or spasms which according to Richard Dawkins are repeated patterns from the last time a machine paid off - they remembered a key behaviour just before the machine 'came through' and they have patterned this and repeat it in silent rituals in what seems like a pantomime gone very wrong. I am reminded of the quote from Emma Lazurus' sonnet which is engraved on a bronze plaque on the pedestal of the Statue of Liberty, 'give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free ..'
Las Vegas in a very real/surreal way has become the new Ellis Island or, at the very minimum, a symbolic one.
And as hard as I try, I just can't conjure up an image of Ian Flemings' James Bond, in Monte Carlo, in a dirty T-shirt and torn sweat pants - incessantly cranking a one armed bandit and feeding it pennies. I shudder more to think who would play the femme fatale and please, no love scenes.
To quote from the Krome Koan, verse 31, 'Lord, save me from your followers'.
Phil
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