Having never been to Las Vegas my wife and I planned a visit to celebrate my birthday. We felt excitement mixed with horror; and every friend we told about our plan reacted with: “You’re kidding!” But kidding we were not. Like Ishmael having confronted Moby Dick, we have survived to tell the tale.
The Vegas airport is like any other modern airport; noisy and crowded. It also has slot machines at the gates, so everyone knows it’s not Kansas, anymore. Stepping outdoors we’re greeted with searing heat, and the requirement to buy two “poker chips” that get us on the hotel shuttle. “So it begins,” I tell my wife.
The Venetian and Palazzo Hotels, like most Vegas hotels, are massive – 7,000 guest rooms – and include Venice-like canals. There are 36 restaurants in the two connected hotels. We arrive about 6pm and choose to eat Mexican, serenaded by a band – five horns, eight violins, two guitars, and one bass guitar – playing a Mariachi version of the 50’s hit, “Angel Baby.” This does not help the tacos go down.
At breakfast the servings for two are enough for six. “The hotel, along with others, contributes our leftovers,” says the waitress when I comment, and I expect to hear something about the hungry. “It goes to a pig farm up north,” she says, proudly. Oink!
The quarter-mile indoor Grand Canal with gondolas is lined with fancy shops and covered by a wispy-clouded-blue-sky painted 40-foot-high domed ceiling of perpetual daylight. When global warming drowns Venice, gondoliers will still be paddling away in the Nevada desert singing “O Solo Mio!”
Vegas feels like a shopping mall, except for the cigarette smoke. I have not seen so many smokers in decades; gambling and smoking are addictive cousins, one losing your money and the other your life. In a 120,000-square-foot casino, thousands are sitting at slot machines pushing buttons and filling ashtrays while the wheels of fortune spin. It’s all computerized, no coins, no levers – just buttons. Like a total chump, I insert twenty bucks in a slot, and lose it in five minutes.
We have dinner at Tao, an “Asian Bistro” decorated with carved antique Asian Bodhisattvas and a 20’ tall Buddha sitting atop a koi pond. Having read about Tao, as a card-carrying Buddhist I had to see it. Despite the stunning antiques, it feels artificial. I ask the young woman walking us to our table about the sculptures; she knows absolutely nothing. Nightclub-rock fills the space and we don’t hang around long after we eat. I buy a box of six chocolate Buddhas – two white, two milk and two dark – twelve dollars for the set! Om Mani Padme Hum.
Vegas is all about eye candy, money and entertainment, Disneyland with slot machines. Their local paper reports that Vegas hospitals have one of the highest levels of surgical error in America. The city leads the nation in foreclosures. Fantasy Land, it seems, only goes so far.
Entertainment is Vegas’ other business, so we take in a show. Ironically, showbiz ends up the most authentic part of our trip. Cirque du Soleil honors physical talent by showcasing human skills of balance, poise, strength, courage and concentration. Amidst all the glitz and silliness of Vegas, we leave the theatre feeling inspired and grateful. Jackpot!
