cheese and Kotex in Las Vegas

I spent last weekend in Las Vegas, which is not something I thought I would ever do, but I did and I survived and now I am here to tell you all the tale.
I went to Vegas to hang out with various people I knew who were going at the same time, and to see the weird Vegas sights. I had a good time, but I have no real desire to visit the place again. There are too many other interesting places I haven’t seen.
I did not have any Hunter S. Thompson-level inspiration, though. I did not even have any Joe Bob Briggs-level inspiration. I can only offer you some bits and pieces of observations.

What I didn’t do.
I would like to point out, first of all, that my boyfriend did not go with me to Vegas. I am stressing this because I noticed that whenever I told people I was going to Vegas, they’d raise their eyebrows and say coyly, “Oh, with your boyfriend? In Vegas? Is there something I should know?” The implication was that we were going to Vegas to elope. No. There was no eloping. There will be no eloping or marrying in the near future, people. Get a grip. I went to Vegas, and my boyfriend stayed home and watched movies and programmed stuff and even washed my car, which just goes to show you what a fortunate person I am.
I didn’t gamble much, just a few dollars here and there, mainly to keep other people company at the slot machines. Maybe eight dollars total. I didn’t win a dime. I am just not a gambling sort of person.
I didn’t drink much either. Or go to any expensive shows. I figured I would have a good time hanging out with people I knew, and looking at weird Vegas stuff, and people-watching.
Vegas sucked me dry.
Vegas is this big mouth of a city that sucks up all your money and a lot of your energy too.
Seriously, I did not realize it would be so pricey. The hotel rate I got was comparable to what I might get in Austin, and I had a nice room in the big pyramid hotel. I had always heard that Vegas had inexpensive to reasonably priced hotels and airfare, and cheap buffet meals, which is one reason why people are always going there.
But it took a lot of searching for me to find decent airfare (on Continental, an airline I usually shun and rightfully so), and I did not have anything resembling a cheap meal during my entire stay. The food looked like what you’d get with a cheap meal, though, for the most part. I didn’t realize I would be spending $13 for breakfast, which I think is probably what the fancy Sunday brunch costs at Fonda San Miguel in Austin.
The thing is, though, that as you walk through hotels and casinos and shopping areas, you realize that Vegas never misses an opportunity to make a little money. It’s like one of those convenience stores where they have Mexican flowerpots outside for sale and clothes in a corner and lottery tickets hanging from the wall and sundries all over the counter by the cash register. Every inch is a sales opportunity.
And I mean every inch. You sit down to eat breakfast and there’s a rack full of Keno slips on the table, as well as a Keno board on the wall. You sit at the bar to get a drink, and little gambling thingies are set into the bar. The streets are littered with little cards advertising call-girl services, and lined with people who want to hand you similar cards. The hotel where I stayed not only had a casino level but also a mall-style level with clothing stores and shoe stores and candy stores. The taxi we took to the airport had a little video monitor facing the back seat that played advertisements for various events. I am surprised our dinner plates did not have advertisements printed on them.
And speaking of being sucked dry, next time I’m bringing a ton of bottled water. The bottled water in the airport cost $3 and I was much too much of a stingy creature to spend that.
Paging the Dead Kennedys.
I grew up near New Orleans, a city that relies heavily on tourism, which means I tend to shun touristy places and things. You can’t really do that in Vegas, well, not on the Strip anyway. This meant that for once, I felt perfectly comfortable taking photos of damn near anything I liked, because everyone else in the vicinity was doing the same thing and it was hardly embarrassing.
And there were plenty of strange things to photograph. Just when we thought we’d seen the ultimate cheesy thing, something else unbelievable would appear. Little fountains in the Bellagio that practically spat water in little globs. The “No weddings” sign near the fake Eiffel Tower (I would really like a copy of that sign for my house). The big fountain at the Bellagio that everyone talks about … but no one told me that the fountain jets might sway and spray while Celine Dion wailed the theme song from Titanic in the background. The “pirate hooker show” at Treasure Island that had obviously been influenced by Britney Spears. The front of Harrah’s, which seemed to be designed by Blaine Kern and therefore gave me scary childhood Mardi Gras flashbacks. The extremely silly camel-race game in the Luxor casino. The theme decor in various hotels/casinos, and the hilarious extremes to which it was taken.
And there were things that a camera would not be able to capture. A discussion about the 27 options for blowjobs on a Nevada whorehouse “menu”. The intense heat radiating around the hotel pool, because we arrived during a heat wave in which temperatures rose to 105 degrees Fahrenheit. Even the Texans found it a little daunting. Friday night dinner with 50 people all trying to talk to each other at once. Wandering around the Strip on Saturday afternoon carrying a nearly opaque drugstore bag full of Kotex (I am a poor reflection on Girl Scouting … I was not prepared). Sunday morning breakfast/lunch with 25 people all trying to talk to each other at once. A wish for a theme restaurant in which the theme was A Quiet Place to Eat.
Vegas wasn’t as good for people-watching as I thought it might be. I was surprised, though, by the sheer quantity of bridal parties and bachelorette parties. (If there were bachelor parties afoot, they were not noticeable, because no one puts a fake veil on the groom-to-be’s head.) At dinner on Saturday night, we sat next to a bachelorette party where all the women wore standard Little Black Dresses. One fake veil had little devil horns on it, which I thought was cuter than the veil-with-condoms that seems to be standard in Texas. I saw lots of brides in full-length white dresses with bouquets, which seemed rather more organized and formal than I thought Vegas weddings would be. But apparently it’s a big destination wedding place, which I didn’t realize because phrases like “destination wedding” usually do not come out of my mouth.
Recovery mode.
Now that I am back, I feel very very old. Vegas (and the accompanying flights) turned me into a little old lady. My back hurts. My sciatica (or whatever the hell it is) flared up and my left leg hurts. The arch in my right foot hurts a lot from all the walking on concrete while wearing insufficiently supportive shoes. I ate too much expensive junk food and my body is not reacting well to that. My shoulders hurt from lugging carry-on bags around various airports. I may still be dehydrated. I need a nap. I need two naps.
See? Old lady.
I am happy to be back in the land of quiet rooms without incessant slot-machine noises, and relatively clean air, and healthy inexpensive meals.
That makes it sound like I didn’t have any fun. I had a lot of fun. Fun is harder for me to describe, you know. It’s much easier for me to write about the grouchy stuff. But you know I had a good time, and I enjoyed getting to see Vegas in person instead of in the movies, and I particularly enjoyed getting to spend time with friends. There. Is that clear enough?