What Happens In Vegas
stays in Vegas, so they say... unless it follows you home.
Vegas is perfect for dreamers, those folks like me who can construct whole worlds in their heads of HappyEverAfters and DreamsComingTrue.
It makes you believe in Life Eternal, Forever Summer, Winning at Craps, and that any Idiot Off The Plane Can Be a Winner, too.
Miles and miles of neon, throngs of wide-eyed people; truly, a city that never sleeps. Not like New York. Eventually, in New York, if you play too hard you end up looking tired and broken, beaten, sleeping in a corner somewhere with piss stains on your pants. In New York, in that half-light of dawn right before the sun peeks over the high-rises you can see all the gaunt, the pain, the broken dreams. In New York you learn to squelch the dream of HappyEverAfter because you know cold dawn will show it to be the futile, childish hope it is.
Not Vegas. The neon never goes out in Vegas. Even at 4 in the morning, the slot machines are still humming, blinking in the soft darkness, making you think you can still pull off a miracle before you go to sleep. If you go to sleep. You can believe in HappyEverAfter because nothing ever stops. You don't even notice dawn.
For all the stuff we saw in Vegas, I saw maybe 3 truly homeless/probably schizo people, and NO uniformed police officers. You KNOW Vegas is crawling with security... you just don't see it. And that lack of uniformed law adds to the feeling of "anything goes".
Yeah, I fell in Vegas. I joke with TheCat that I fell on July 5th, the morning after he talked the voices down but even so I think I've been holding on pretty well, because in New York I'm constantly slapped in the face with harsh reality.
But reality is suspended in Vegas. We sat in the window of the hotel room and cloud watched, TheCat pointing out a lion in the clouds, and on the other side of the horizon, a bear. We talked, and of course I got all riled up about something. He stopped me by telling me he'd been watching my reflection in the window, laughing as the moods he felt coming off of me crossed my face in the reflection. And then I lost all sense of reality when TheCat pulled me in his arms and we danced in the hotel room.
Blech. My New York heart could just kick itself. But that was only the beginning.
We got dressed and Aunt LV picked us up to take us to dinner. On the way, we passed the infamous sign, "Welcome to Fabulous Las Vegas". I had said that if all I got to do out in Vegas was see that sign, I'd be happy. It was still light out, but it was still Fabulous and I was thrilled to be a complete and total geeky tourist, jumping out of the car to have Aunt LV take a picture of us in front of it.
Aunt LV had been saving her gambling points and took us to TwinCreeks restaurant at the Silverton-- a casino she said the locals frequented. Aunt LV said short of the $63 dollar steak, we could have anything we wanted. She had lobstertail, giving the extremely attentive hostess detailed instructions on how it should be broiled, and what she wanted as sides. TheCat had a New York Strip Steak, and I opted for the ribeye. I had a tequila (Patron anejo), neat. Shit. Made you wish you a had big fat cigar.
The food was amazing. The hostess, almost over-attentive. The decor was luxurious. Aunt LV then requested that whatever extra bones were laying around the kitchen be packaged for her two dogs, Mocha Java and his mom Princess. That made me laugh; but I remembered that when she still lived in LA she had done the same for her dog then. Her doggies eat well, let me tell you.
After dinner we stopped by her house to meet her dogs, who TheCat tried to befriend by feeding the steak bones. Princess was non-plussed; Mocha Java took a minute to unwind. Aunt LV's home is spectacular. She took a picture of us:
and I took one of her:
Then we got back in the car and Aunt LV drove around a little bit, coming to a corner just as
Frank Sinatra was singing "Fly Me To The Moon" and the lighted fountains in front of the Bellagio were spouting off. A huge crowd had stopped seemingly in their tracks to watch the show. It was a perfect moment, coming to the corner like that, hearing Frank--Vegas' most famous entertainer--and hearing the roar of the water as it jetted into the sky.
We passed the replica of the Eiffel Tower at the Paris Hotel,
and then Aunt LV pulled into the Bellagio so that we could see a $12M dollar ceiling... an amazing work of art by Dale Chihuly, of whom Bigbear always says "He's Native, you know!"
I don't even know what time she dropped us off at the Mirage, and we went upstairs for a minute. I thought TheCat might fall asleep, but we both wanted to see more so we pulled ourselves up and walked the Strip until we couldn't stand up anymore...
Vegas is perfect for dreamers, those folks like me who can construct whole worlds in their heads of HappyEverAfters and DreamsComingTrue.
It makes you believe in Life Eternal, Forever Summer, Winning at Craps, and that any Idiot Off The Plane Can Be a Winner, too.
Miles and miles of neon, throngs of wide-eyed people; truly, a city that never sleeps. Not like New York. Eventually, in New York, if you play too hard you end up looking tired and broken, beaten, sleeping in a corner somewhere with piss stains on your pants. In New York, in that half-light of dawn right before the sun peeks over the high-rises you can see all the gaunt, the pain, the broken dreams. In New York you learn to squelch the dream of HappyEverAfter because you know cold dawn will show it to be the futile, childish hope it is.
Not Vegas. The neon never goes out in Vegas. Even at 4 in the morning, the slot machines are still humming, blinking in the soft darkness, making you think you can still pull off a miracle before you go to sleep. If you go to sleep. You can believe in HappyEverAfter because nothing ever stops. You don't even notice dawn.
For all the stuff we saw in Vegas, I saw maybe 3 truly homeless/probably schizo people, and NO uniformed police officers. You KNOW Vegas is crawling with security... you just don't see it. And that lack of uniformed law adds to the feeling of "anything goes".
Yeah, I fell in Vegas. I joke with TheCat that I fell on July 5th, the morning after he talked the voices down but even so I think I've been holding on pretty well, because in New York I'm constantly slapped in the face with harsh reality.
But reality is suspended in Vegas. We sat in the window of the hotel room and cloud watched, TheCat pointing out a lion in the clouds, and on the other side of the horizon, a bear. We talked, and of course I got all riled up about something. He stopped me by telling me he'd been watching my reflection in the window, laughing as the moods he felt coming off of me crossed my face in the reflection. And then I lost all sense of reality when TheCat pulled me in his arms and we danced in the hotel room.
Blech. My New York heart could just kick itself. But that was only the beginning.
We got dressed and Aunt LV picked us up to take us to dinner. On the way, we passed the infamous sign, "Welcome to Fabulous Las Vegas". I had said that if all I got to do out in Vegas was see that sign, I'd be happy. It was still light out, but it was still Fabulous and I was thrilled to be a complete and total geeky tourist, jumping out of the car to have Aunt LV take a picture of us in front of it.Aunt LV had been saving her gambling points and took us to TwinCreeks restaurant at the Silverton-- a casino she said the locals frequented. Aunt LV said short of the $63 dollar steak, we could have anything we wanted. She had lobstertail, giving the extremely attentive hostess detailed instructions on how it should be broiled, and what she wanted as sides. TheCat had a New York Strip Steak, and I opted for the ribeye. I had a tequila (Patron anejo), neat. Shit. Made you wish you a had big fat cigar.
The food was amazing. The hostess, almost over-attentive. The decor was luxurious. Aunt LV then requested that whatever extra bones were laying around the kitchen be packaged for her two dogs, Mocha Java and his mom Princess. That made me laugh; but I remembered that when she still lived in LA she had done the same for her dog then. Her doggies eat well, let me tell you.
After dinner we stopped by her house to meet her dogs, who TheCat tried to befriend by feeding the steak bones. Princess was non-plussed; Mocha Java took a minute to unwind. Aunt LV's home is spectacular. She took a picture of us:
and I took one of her:
Then we got back in the car and Aunt LV drove around a little bit, coming to a corner just as
Frank Sinatra was singing "Fly Me To The Moon" and the lighted fountains in front of the Bellagio were spouting off. A huge crowd had stopped seemingly in their tracks to watch the show. It was a perfect moment, coming to the corner like that, hearing Frank--Vegas' most famous entertainer--and hearing the roar of the water as it jetted into the sky.We passed the replica of the Eiffel Tower at the Paris Hotel,
and then Aunt LV pulled into the Bellagio so that we could see a $12M dollar ceiling... an amazing work of art by Dale Chihuly, of whom Bigbear always says "He's Native, you know!"
I don't even know what time she dropped us off at the Mirage, and we went upstairs for a minute. I thought TheCat might fall asleep, but we both wanted to see more so we pulled ourselves up and walked the Strip until we couldn't stand up anymore...
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