Let’s not start with the statistics. Las Vegas spews out statistics like slot machine jackpots used to spew out cascades of coins. Research the city on the net and you will be deluged with numbers: of visitors, of hotel rooms, of dollars gambled – and the tumultuous growth in all these things. They are intrinsic to its nature, and the urge to quote a few of them can’t be denied for long, but let’s not start there.

Where then to start? Perhaps at the airport, just outside the doors of the arrival lounge, where there is a booth selling tickets for the shuttle busses that serve the main hotels. A one way ticket is $6.50, and I asked for that.

“You coming back?” said the woman behind the window. “The round trip is $12, so you save a dollar.”

“If I win,” I told her, “I’ll be riding in a limo. And if I lose, I’ll walk.” Of course, I wasn’t serious, just trying on for size a little bullshit and bravado, in keeping with the spirit of the place.

It didn’t win a smile, or an expression of any kind. “What time’s your flight out?” she asked.

“Late afternoon.”

“That’s going to be one long, hot walk.”

Now for some numbers

The hotel to which the shuttle bus carried me, the Flamingo, was the first of the big casino-hotels to be put up along the “strip”, the boulevard that runs south into the desert out from “old” downtown Las Vegas. The Flamingo was the brainchild of an entrepreneur called Billy Wilkerson, backed by investors of distinctly dubious provenance; there is still a memorial plaque in its gardens dedicated to one of them, the notorious mobster Bugsy Siegal.

Wilkerson, Siegal and their cronies conceived the hare-brained notion that if you built a casino big, ballsy and brash enough, and shouted about it loudly enough, the world would beat a path to its door, even in the sun-scorched wasteland of southern Nevada. Their vision was breath-taking to the point of lunacy, but archetypically American, as was the response. The punters were impressed, and came.

All this was way back in 1946, so naturally the Flamingo has been completely rebuilt and extended since. Who would want to preserve anything so old? Certainly no one in Las Vegas. In its new incarnation, under completely new management, the Flamingo boasts 3600 bedrooms. This makes it just the ninth largest in Las Vegas and the eleventh largest in the world; a truly astounding proportion of the world’s big hotels are located in Las Vegas. Moreover, there are new hotels now planned that promise to increase that proportion, and push the likes of the Flamingo out of even the Las Vegas top ten. To put the numbers in perspective, less than a century ago the whole of Clark County, Nevada, in which the city stands, had a total population of 3321. So there are now more rooms in just one hotel, by no means the biggest, than there were people then. People now? About 1¾ million residents, plus up to another ½ million visitors at any given time. Yes, it’s grown.

There was a long queue at reception at the Flamingo, and it took me nearly half an hour to check in. Maybe, I thought, I’ve arrived at an unusually busy time, or maybe this hotel has an unusually undermanned front desk. But no; whenever I passed through the lobby during my stay there was always a long queue, and the same was true of the other big hotels I went to see. Even in the depths of a severe recession, Las Vegas seems to be having no trouble pulling in the tourists.

You may be wondering why, staying at one hotel, I was going to see others. It is a curious feature of Las Vegas that the hotels are visitor attractions in themselves, rather than simply accommodating people attracted there for other purposes. Indeed, you could say that they aren’t many visitor attractions in Las Vegas outside the hotels, whilst within them there are many, including concert halls, nightclubs, exhibition centres, restaurants, themed features and displays of many kinds. The reason isn’t hard to find, being the same reason that animates almost everything about the way Las Vegas is organised: the desire of the hoteliers to entice prospective punters to play in their casinos, where the real money is made.

The play’s the thing

Personally, despite my attempt at bravado with the woman at the airport, I’m not much of a gambler; I had other reasons for being in Las Vegas. To the extent that I am a gambler, I’m probably the kind that Las Vegas least wants or welcomes: a low roller who might play cards for small stakes among friends or wager a few quid at a racetrack to add spice to the occasion, but with no real interest in betting for its own sake. Especially unappealing is the kind of betting that consists of feeding money into an inanimate machine with the odds on its side. Call me unimaginative if you like, but I can’t see the fun in losing.

However, I am clearly in the minority, since the slot machines are easily the casinos’ biggest source of revenue, taking nearly twice what is staked on table games like roulette, craps or blackjack. Enter any casino and rank after rank of them will greet you with their flashing lights and whirling dials, looking not so much like one-armed bandits as platoons of gaudily-equipped robotic soldiers. Added together, they form a formidable army, in total some 200,000 strong. They would not be there without willing victims, and many such are to be seen seated in front of them, pressing the buttons with routine repetitiveness – it is no longer necessary to pull the handles at their sides. Moreover, these people appear entirely normal, neither blank-eyed addicts nor wild-eyed compulsives, which makes their willingness to part with their money stranger still. They presumably know that the longer they play the more likely they are to lose, but they continue. Perhaps they are just exercising the American right to hope, even if it might prove to be the triumph of hope over experience. Either way, who am I to question how others choose to enjoy themselves?

Since I wasn’t doing much playing, I spent more time observing the set up, noting how the ways through the big hotels always seemed to steer one towards the casino areas, how few places there are to sit down except in front of the slot machines or gaming tables, how even in the bars there are often slot screens built into the surface of the bar so that you can continue to play while you refresh yourself. It may have been a coincidence, but whenever my companions and I went for dinner at restaurants within casinos we were on each occasion told that they would have a table ready if we’d like to come back in about twenty minutes or half an hour. Just the kind of interval, it struck me, which we might fill by putting a little money into the adjacent slots, but not long enough for us to become so impatient as to go off elsewhere. I don’t know whether or not it’s true that the owners pump oxygen into the playing areas to keep customers feeling awake and self-confident, but I did notice that, in one or two casinos that have ceilings imitating sky, the light intensity was kept at a level that simulated early evening, the sort of time that you might be thinking of settling in one place, but far too early to go to bed. Meanwhile upbeat music maintains a lively atmosphere.

And I had to laugh when I read in the ‘Guest Services’ section of the hotel guide about “Our banking center, conveniently located in the casino.” Convenient, I wondered, for whom?

Render unto Caesar’s Palace

Before you can be kept inside by the kind of contrivances described above, you do, of course, have to be lured through the casino’s doors in the first place, and it is fascinating to see how the big hotels approach the competitive challenge of luring. Some rely on nothing more original than sumptuous luxury (at the top end of the market) or cheap room rates (at the lower end), but others seek to make their mark by theming and/or entertainment. For example: -

~ The Venetian. An ambitious attempt to recreate some of the monuments and features of Venice: St Marks Square, the Rialto, canals, gondolas and so on. The scale and the attention to detail are extraordinary, but it doesn’t truly convince; you can replicate the architecture, but not the ambience. Here, the bustle of the adjacent strip keeps intruding. I remember once having seen a documentary about the building of this place, and the obsessive desire for exactitude of the entrepreneur behind it; for example, having the canals drained and relined so that the colour of the water would be to his satisfaction. In fact, it is nothing like as dark and murky as that of genuine Venetian canals, but is perhaps as dark and murky as American tourists will tolerate, and they are probably impressed that millions of dollars were spent in the quest for authenticity.

~ Paris Las Vegas. Another remarkable pastiche of a European city, complete with Eiffel Tower and elegantly Gallic-municipal exterior. Embedded into this exterior is Mon Ami Gabi, an excellent imitation of a Parisian brasserie in all respects but the tastiness of the food and the tipping expectations. Dining there one night, I felt pangs of nostalgia both for genuine French cuisine and for prix nets, as opposed to an automatically-added 18% service charge. Still, if you can arrange to be seated on the terrace out front, Mon Ami Gabi does provide you with a good view across the strip to….

~ The Bellagio. I’m a little unclear as to the intended nature of the Bellagio’s theming, if any, but it hardly needs any when the choreographed fountains that play in the lake across its frontage are such a splendid spectacle. Large crowds gather each evening to watch them swirl, sway and spout skywards to music ranging from Pavarotti arias to Lee Greenwood’s Proud to be American, which always goes down among a patriotic audience. The best free entertainment in Las Vegas, in my view. Alternatively, you can pay around $100 to see Cirque du Soleil perform within.

~ The Mirage. Another plushy hotel of indistinct theming offering free entertainment in its strip-side artificial lake. Here a fake Volcano erupts at regular intervals through the evening, spewing out illusory lava like slot machine jackpots used to spew out cascades of coins. Meanwhile, one block north…

~ Treasure Island... has a free outdoor display of a different kind, featuring two near-lifesize 17th century galleons. “Get enchanted by the beautiful Sirens of TI® as they lure a band of renegade pirates into their cove with powerful and captivating melodies”…as the hotel website describes it. This draws big crowds and I had a rather poor view of it from across the strip, but it looked quite fun as a song-and-dance routine if utterly unconvincing as a piratical showdown. Rather confusingly, the Cirque de Soleil seemed to be performing here as well.

~ Luxor. The external Egyptana – the replica sphinx and similar statuary – I found strangely unimpressive, but the building itself is architecturally awe-inspiring. An outsize pyramid of which the rooms form the outer skin, it has a huge hollow interior housing all the usual facilities including exhibition halls and a theatre. At the time of my visit you could choose between exhibitions about the Human Body (said to be very good, but I missed it) or the Titanic; alternatively you could see ‘Menopause – the musical’.

~ New York New York. Just in case some of the theming seems a little exotic, here’s one closer to home. The simulation of the NYC skyline, complete with Statue of Liberty, works rather well, even if the Coney Island-style big dipper winding its way among the skyscrapers looks somewhat incongruous. Brooklyn Bridge at sidewalk level is a bit of a disappointment, though, conveying no sense of being anywhere except beside the strip, which of course it is.

~ MGM Grand. Allegedly the biggest hotel of all, at least at the time of writing. The theme here is Lions, in keeping with the MGM logo. Outside stands ‘the largest golden statue in the world’ depicting the relevant beast, while inside were two of the living beasts themselves, displayed in what the commentary told us was a $9m dollar habitat. These specimens are bussed in daily by air-conditioned coach from the ranch where a full squad of them resides in waiting.

Those are just a few examples. More could easily be cited, among them the Mandalay Bay (with ‘beach’, aquaria and 12,000 seat arena), the Stratosphere (with a high observation tower and white-knuckle rides), Excalibur (which looks like a giant lego model of a fairytale castle), or Caesar’s Palace, which seemed to me to conflate every classical archetype (together with some not so classical). And so on, and so on.

That’s entertainment, apparently

In the list above I’ve already touched on some of the entertainment to be had, but in truth I’ve barely scratched the surface. At any given time there are hundreds of shows and concerts on offer, often featuring big name performers – many of them world-famous, though some seemingly world-famous only in Las Vegas. I won’t name names, since they doubtless change over time, but many even I had heard of, though I must confess that this may only reveal their average age. Perhaps old stagers never die, just take gigs in Las Vegas. Still, the younger generation, both male and female, seems well-represented in the burlesque or strip-tease shows (is there a difference?) that also feature prominently along the strip.

If burlesque isn’t raunchy enough for you, or if looking without touching doesn’t appeal, there appear to be plenty of opportunities to arrange something more personal. Mobile advertisements go up and down the strip advertising ‘Hot Babes’ who apparently ‘want to meet you’, while sleazy characters wait on the sidewalk with packs of cards featuring semi-naked girls, prices and phone numbers, which they try to thrust into your hand with an odd snapping/slapping gesture. I’m no prude, but this did seem rather repellent and not in the least erotic.

Meanwhile, old downtown Las Vegas is trying to attract visitors away from the strip, its main weapon being the Fremont Street Experience. This consists of having roofed over the whole of the eponymous street with a long semi-cylindrical vault, its underside brilliantly illuminated with kaleidoscopic displays, while an all-round sound system spews out the decibels like slot machine jackpots used to spew out cascades of coins. At night, with the street full of enthusiastic on-lookers, it is really a rather exhilerating experience, and I understand it has done wonders in reviving the fortunes of the adjacent casinos, which lack the scale and glamour of their strip-side counterparts.

Strip steak

While on Fremont Street, at the Four Queens Casino, I enjoyed a very edible rib steak with all the trimmings for $7.99 ($9.99 less $2 for joining the casino’s gaming club, for which I also received a deck of cards), washed down with their own, very drinkable micro-brewery beer. This wasn’t a great gastronomic experience, but great value. Eating in the casinos is often good value, for the usual reason of their wanting to tempt you inside for other purposes. Cheap drinks (e.g. Margaritas for $0.99) are also a commonplace incentive, or even free drinks apparently if you show signs of playing long and seriously enough, which I never did.

I really wasn’t in Las Vegas long enough to make firm recommendations as to places to eat and drink, of which there are thousands. I did, though, quite enjoy the Rain Forest Café in the bowels of the MGM Grand. What it lacks in culinary sophistication it more than makes up for in atmosphere, being yet another themed experience, complete with simulated tropical storms.

Slot machine payouts…

… incidentally, these days usually take the form of automatically-printed, machine-redeemable vouchers rather than cascades of coins, in case you were wondering. Such is progress.

Beer and betrothing in Las Vegas

It has always been a bit of a mystery to me as to why so many people choose to be married in Las Vegas, at least on a planned, pre-meditated basis. Impromptu weddings I can understand, given the almost instant availability of licences, and the disorienting potential of perhaps unexpected wins on the tables or being taken suddenly drunk while celebrating. Nevertheless, it was for a long-planned wedding that I was there. No, I wasn’t getting married, but my son was, having been to Las Vegas with his girl-friend last year and become engaged in the process.

All big Las Vegas hotels are geared up for weddings, and the Flamingo is no exception. The only problem the young couple encountered was when they were asked what kind of minister they would like to officiate, and replied that they would prefer a non-religious ceremony. After some debate, they were told this should be possible; apparently, there was a Buddhist minister willing to keep religion out of it. So I was kind of expecting an oriental character in saffron robes, but when the relevant minister appeared one would more readily have tagged him for a rabbi than a biku. No matter, he was competent, amiable and as secular as anyone could wish for.

There is an air-conditioned chapel in the gardens, but the young couple decided on a ceremony al fresco. It all passed off as pleasantly as is possible in blistering heat, and once it was over we rushed inside for refreshment. No one seemed to fancy champagne – which, pricewise, was probably a blessing – and the only draught beer on offer in the cocktail bar was a substance called Blue Moon, which tasted a little like a sour continental weissbier, a flavour not improved by the addition of an orange segment on a stick. Ah well, it didn’t spoil the wedding.

Strip mall

Even more than gambling, shopping is my least favourite activity, and I feel ill-qualified to comment on retail therapy Las Vegas-style. For those who like that sort of thing, though, there are plenty of opportunities, including what seemed to me to be some prestigious brand-names located in the more prestigious hotel-casinos.

One long hot walk

It was just as well that I never seriously contemplated walking back to the airport. The temperature while I was in Las Vegas in early August was hovering around 106-107° F (41-42° C), and stepping out an air-conditioned hotel lobby was like opening the door of a pizza oven. Even I, who love to explore cities on foot, never managed more than a few blocks at a time before wilting. The only way to stay cool while walking is to go through the casino halls, which is interesting at first, but soon palls.

Alternatively, you can hire a car, which is probably the American way, but which I’d never do to stay within a city, take cabs (expensive), or try what little public transportation exists. This consists of:

(i) The Monorail (seemingly alternatively branded “moneyrail” by its sponsors, the Bank of Nevada), which only really serves the lower strip. However, I liked the message on their ticket machines – “we’re about to deal you the card you need” – when one put in the fare ($5 for a single ride or $13 for a 24-hour pass).

(ii) The Deuce bus, which for $3 single ride (or $7 for 24 hours) takes you from anywhere on the strip to downtown, or back.

There and back

At least half a dozen airlines will fly you from Britain to Las Vegas. Shopping around on the net, you can usually find return fares at not much over £300, economy. With most flights, you have to change at one hub or another in the eastern United States. Although BA are also planning a non-stop route, at present only Virgin Atlantic, from Gatwick, will fly you directly there from the UK. Better still, they’ll fly you directly back. Unless, of course, you are so waylaid by the slots in the departure lounge that you miss your flight.

Sunny side down

On one of my rare forays out into the sun, a short walk off the strip down Flamingo Avenue brought me to two buildings that helped me see Las Vegas through slightly (only slightly) different eyes.

One was a big hanger-like edifice, emblazoned with a sign proclaiming it to be the employment office for the Harrah’s Group, and announcing “7 great properties, 1 great opportunity”. Harrah’s encompasses seven of the big casino-hotels, and seeing this huge hiring-shop surrounded by an applicants’ parking lot, including disabled spaces, was a reminder of the vast army of staff that they employ: the cleaners and chambermaids and concierges and waiters and waitresses and croupiers and pit crew and security staff and cashiers and parking lot attendants and valet parkers and drivers and bellhops and baggage handlers and laundry staff and repair and maintenance people. And so on and so on. Many are Mexican immigrants and probably well pleased with what they can earn here, even in the most menial capacity, compared with what is available to them at home. Like the punters, they also exercising the American right to have hope, and have it more abundantly.

The second was a little single-storey convenience store and bar, barely a casino as Las Vegas accustoms one to think of casinos, though with its own slot machines. In the shadow of the 26-storey Flamingo, it is flanked on its two further sides by a vast empty plot. Above the doors is a sign that reads defiantly: “We have 21 years left on our lease. We are here to serve you.”

One has to read between the lines a little, perhaps mistakenly, but somehow I imagined this might mean that the lease-holders were holding out against, and thereby holding up, the development of yet another mega-casino in the vacant plot. If so, it’s a sturdy show of independence and arguably admirable, though how many more workers might have been employed in the mega-casino, and how many more visitors might want to stay there? Despite all that, I hope they make their 21.

Strip cartoon

It would be easy to be cynical about Las Vegas and you may think I have been, but that is something I have honestly tried to avoid. In any case, the place defies satire. How could you exaggerate what is already so exaggerated? Las Vegas always seems to be parodying itself, even when it is parodying other places. There is a cartoon quality to the strip, larger than life but somehow only tenuously real. The Mirage is an apt name for a hotel-casino. Maybe this sense of unreality is induced by the sheer ambition of the place, which for an aging European like me is almost mind-numbing.

The absence of self-doubt, introspection or irony is quintessentially American. They’d say this is a winner’s mentality, one that makes them more successful. To which one can only question what constitutes success. Successful or otherwise, what happens in America first does tend to happen here later. So is all this exaggerated artifice, this manipulated and manipulative artifice, really the future of leisure here as well as there? If only in the interests of conservation and variety, I hope not.

Even so, I’m not against Las Vegas. You can’t be against Las Vegas without being against freedom and against people enjoying themselves in their own way, and I am passionately in favour of both. But I still find it hard to contain my ambivalence, because the things that people seem to enjoy most in Las Vegas don’t happen to be things that much appeal to me personally. So be it; that is my loss, not theirs. I had a fascinating few days in Vegas, but I shan’t be going back. Don’t let me put you off, though. If you haven’t already been, it’s worth a visit just to experience at first hand the soaring scale, the exuberant excess. And you might be one of those who loves it.

© torr 2009