A Savage Journey to the Heart of the American Dream

Bright light city gonna set my soul
Gonna set my soul on fire

--Viva Las Vegas, words and music by Doc Pomus and Mort Shuman

Jesus! Bad waves of paranoia, madness, fear and loathing, intolerable vibrations in this place. Get out! The weasels were closing in. I could smell the ugly brutes.

--Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, Hunter S. Thompson

I wish I had interesting things to say about Las Vegas. If I were 21 and unleashed on the city I still probably wouldn't have much happen that would stay in Las Vegas after I left. Because if I were 21 I wouldn't be able to afford anything there.

I was at a conference. And despite the "nod, nod's, wink, wink's" people give you when you go to a conference in Las Vegas, some of us actually drag our butt's out of bed and catch those 8 a.m. sessions on "Forging Partnerships and Building Ridership" even though watching bread toast would be more interesting. Call it work ethic or call it Catholic guilt (though I'm not Catholic), but if someone pays me to do something, I do it. Point is, it wasn't a vacation. And public agency expense accounts are not generous or forgiving despite what the news program watchdogs tell you.

I did hop the Vegas Monorail to the strip a couple of times and walked through the obligatory big casinos like Paris...

....MGM Grand...

....and of course, Ceasars Palace.

I didn't go to any shows, but my hotel room had a plasma screen television and a 26th floor view of the strip. I ate in one buffet, but mainly ate sandwiches. I gambled a bit, but not alot. I drank a bit, but not a lot (though I had a Star Trek martini in a Ferenghi Bar at the Hilton that had me seeing Klingon families dining...turned out they were real). I bought my wife a Las Vegas sweat shirt. I bought myself a pair of dice with my name on it. I didn't steal any ash trays. Oh yeah, it snowed.

I think I did see the weasels, though. And they were ugly brutes.

But that could have been the fever that went along with my sinus infection.

I think I'm getting old.

Elvis has left the building

My first trip to Las Vegas was back in 1990 or there abouts. I was on a pilgrimage of sorts, seeking the holy spots where Elvis had been during his Vegas years just before he became the fat and bloated king who died on the toilet. And the holiest of holies in Las Vegas is the Las Vegas Hilton. This is where Elvis stayed and performed while he was in Las Vegas. And this is where I am staying 17 years later attending a conference.

On my first trip to the Hilton I was in awe of a statue of Elvis the Colonel and Priscilla had donated to the Hilton back in 1978. It sat in a place of honor near the main entrance next to a glass case that housed one of his jump suits and guitars.

As the flame of Elvis' memory begins to flicker, the Hilton has followed suite. They have moved the statue out of the hotel and onto the sidewalk. So Elvis has literally left the building. The jump suit and guitar are nowhere to be seen.

To add insult to injury, Barry Manilow is headlining at the Hilton and has his own gift shop in the lobby. Oh, you can still buy Elvis memorabilia next door in the Vegas shop, but it has settled into the kitsche category (though I did snag myself a cool TCB money clip for good luck...it didn't seem to help me on the Elvis slot machine however).

It is sad. The old Las Vegas is dead. Elvis has become a joke and they honor people like Barry Manilow and Celine Dion instead.

Even the slot machines have changed. They no longer have handles and you get your payout in a coupon instead of the clinking of dirty quarters. There are no more $1.99 steak and egg specials. A cup of coffee even costs $4.25. And if I hear one more person say, "What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas" I am going to puke.

Oh well, at least when the sun goes down the lights of Vegas still shine. And if you squint, you can imagine you are in the old Vegas and downstairs in the showroom, the King is singing "hunka, hunka burnin' luv."

I miss you Elvis.