The Arena Of The Unwell: Las Vegas - shiny thing, make it all better?

Next morning we leave for Las Vegas on the Greyhound. It’s a six hour trip. Bob snoozes whilst I do a spot of reading and swot up on some Spanish audio lessons. Vegas is in the grip of a huge thunderstorm. It gets an average of something like four inches of rain a year but I’m sure the Vegas weather gods have gambled everything with their London counterparts and lost, because we appear to have the next five years quota waiting just for us. We’re staying at Riviera Casino on the main strip. The rooms are pretty good, especially considering we’re paying half the price of LA hostels. Our evening is spent cruising the strip until we run out of energy in some karaoke bar at stupid o’clock and decide to turn in.

Our laundry day is overdue so we embark on a mission but get lost en route to the laundromat and end up way off the main strip. We stop a guy on his bike to ask for directions. He kindly obliges before departing with some comforting words of advice. “This ain’t a nice neighbourhood so be careful who you speak to round here” before turning his back and adding “especially you”. Not sure exactly which one of us he was speaking to but my laundry load just got bigger and we got out as quick as possible. The evening was spent in Fremont Street and we have a go on the awesome FlightLine (see video below). It’s only been open for two days and, assuming it gets approval to stay put, I’ve no doubt it’ll become a must-do Vegas attraction. We head back to the main strip and bump into some Aussies we met in the San Diego hostel a couple of days prior. The world of the traveller is indeed very small.

On the way to Stratosphere about midday the next day we bump into the Aussies yet again. In keeping with their stereotype, they’re already on the lash. We stop off at a 50’s diner for some of the finest cuisine Vegas has to offer in the shape of a hot dog the size of a large Dachshund before heading up the tower. The trip to the top of the tower is $16 well spent. The view of the strip itself is impressive but pales into insignificance when compared to the views of the desert and mountains which surround the city. The view directly down is pretty stomach-churning let alone the thrill rides up here. The most vomit-inducing has to be the SkyJump. From 108 floor up, lemmings are hurling themselves off attached only to a rope which breaks their fall if not their back. We watched as one girl stood quivering at the edge for ten minutes before bottling it. The price of her humiliation was $100 and I did feel pretty bad for her. She got further than me. This type of thrill ride is just a little beyond what I can handle right now (financially, of course) but if I come back to Vegas any time soon I will do it.

By the time we get back to the hotel the heavens have opened again. Vegas is really not built for rain. The casinos were leaking like sieves and one open air bar had water pouring off the speakers. We head to Coyote Ugly for a swift one then over to some diabolical place named Rockhouse which played, you guessed it, R&B. We finally settle on an open air bar named Carnavale Court with its outrageously talented barmen and see out the night there before bumping into some girls from Maidstone on the trek back. For the record, being British is not a novelty in Vegas like it is in San Diego. Literally every other person you meet here is British.

Our last day in Vegas starts wet and gets wetter. We discover the secret of Gold Line buses which have fewer stops but get you around so much quicker on busy days like today. We head to the south end of the strip and check out Excalibur, Luxor and the stunning Mandalay Bay. The evening is spent at Margaritaville and O’Shea’s where they have a band playing some classic rock tunes. We finish things off back at Carnivale Court again. When we leave we’re treated to our second dose of accidental stardom. Three hookers have been pulled over by the cops who appear to have a full-on film crew with them. It’s not a set up, I think this is an episode of Cops and these girls are genuinely getting taken away if cuffs. The cuffs don't seem to bother them but perhaps its not the first time they've been restrained this evening. However, imagine if these girls are innocent. I mean, it’s not as if they get paid to have their reputations ruined on film. At least not by "on-duty" cops.

Vegas is pretty easy to sum up. It’s Disneyland for adults with a passion for gambling and all-you-can-eat buffets. The number of morbidly obese fourty-somethings tearing up the sidewalks on their mobility scooters is a terrifying vision of the future. Seriously, some of these casino buffets even sell day passes to these coffin-dodgers so once they've filled one colostomy bag they can trundle off and come back later for a free refill. Nom-nom-nom-nom ...

Total gambled and lost comes to one dollar. Sorry Vegas, but that side of things just ain't for me.

Back to LA, next stop Washington DC.

Choon for the day: Stereophonics - Vegas Two Times