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August 22nd, 2001 was my first time visiting Las Vegas and thank ye gawds it wasn’t my last, ‘cuz I sure didn’t do it right.
Except for seeing Ween play at the House of Blues. That couldn’t have been much righter.
My first mistake was arriving in Sin City alone but what could I do? I had been in the middle of a one-man drive across the continental United States of America and a solo trip is a solo trip. So when I pulled north out of Scottsdale, Arizona that morning I had no fellow sin-seeking brethren along for ride which is really, really too bad. Maybe that other person would have said something like, “Hey, shouldn’t we stop for a peek at the Grand Canyon?” or “While we’re literally driving by the Hoover Dam maybe we could pull in and see what it’s all about?” or perhaps even: “What?!? You’ve booked us into an off-strip Journey’s End?!? In Vegas? What were you thinking?!?!?”
That last one might have been super-helpful.
So yeah, the second major mistake was booking two nights in the Journey’s End just a massive block or two off the Strip. Although while it lacked class, glitz, and anything remotely Vegas-like it did offer free parking, which was pretty sweet for a vacationer as dirt-poor as I was. I swear I was just barely above eating in soup kitchens while I galavanted around seeing the sights. With that in mind, after freshening up* I walked (all the way) to the Strip and chickened out after losing half of my $100 gambling allotment (sure I was barely eating but I wasn’t going to not gamble in Las Vegas. Sheesh). I watched a dude do the pea and shell game on one of the pedestrian bridges that crosses the main drag, I walked in and out of a bunch of famous casinos where I found the only difference between them beyond their deceptive facades seemed to be the outfits the drink girls were wearing. In short, I was already sick of Vegas by late afternoon. I went back to my room for a couple more drinks, wrote a song called Fake Plastic Vegas (“…It’s just greed that makes us/Love fake plastic Vegas…”) and got ready for the show.
Now where was the House of Blues? In Mandalay Bay maybe? Wherever it was, I’m pretty sure I took the free tram that runs behind the casinos to get there. While I may be fuzzy on the logistics, once the Ween concert begins my memory kicks in with a picture-perfect run through of the show, with vivid recollections of the venue, my spot in the back right corner of the floor, and even the people I met, including two girls I had hung out with at the Scottsdale show (Sara and Katie) and a dude standing next to me who helped make the encore so great I bought him a beer. I tell you, that Mutilated Lips stands as one of the best live songs I have ever experienced. I thought it was the song itself (this had been my first time hearing Ween play it live) but nope. After seeing the band play it several more times I can report with confidence that this particular performance of Mutilated Lips was something special.
As was the show all-in-all. The Ween concert the night before in Scottsdale had been great but at this one they really hit it out of the park. Of course they did; bands love playing in Vegas. But I didn’t know anything about that back then.
Nope, back then I hated Vegas. After the show I meandered through a couple more casinos but having blown my extra $50 on drinks at the show I was unwilling to gamble so I found them boring and lonely. By midnight I was at the front desk of the Journey’s End eagerly getting a refund on my second night’s stay and first thing in the morning** I drove straight out of Vegas*** and used my extra night to make a detour through Death Valley, which I found vastly more interesting than my first trip to Vegas (again, the Ween show notwithstanding). Then I went to Burning Man and had my world turned upside-down for eight days.
Post Script: I have since been back to Vegas several times, always with other people, always with a few bucks to burn, always staying in a name-brand on-Strip hotel (okay, The Flamingo), and always to great, great success (in the fun department at least). I certainly do not hate Vegas anymore, but I’m willing to try.
*I should point out that I had the most enjoyable shower of my life shortly after checking in to that Journey’s End. To save fuel on the trip I was never using the air-con in the Honda and after a sweltering day of driving the moment I got to my room I poured a rye and Coke and took it straight into the shower with me. It was one of those stand-up dealies – no tub – and once I was fully clean and my drink was empty I reached to shut off the tap and was struck by how blatantly pleasurable the water felt pounding down on my head. It felt so good that my mind locked into an intense meditative state of mindfulness and I stood there frozen with my skandas frolicking in sensual bliss for perhaps twenty, maybe twenty-five minutes, although it might have been an hour or more. But I suppose this could have just as easily have happened if I had been staying at The Flamingo, so no credit to Journey’s End.
**After trying and failing to recapture the previous day’s shower nirvana.
***Following two pre-planned and pre-budgeted excursions: lunch at The Hard Rock Casino (I had a club sandwich and marvelled at the slot machines outfitted with Fender electric guitar necks in place of the pull-bars) and a ride on the roller coater on the roof of the New York-New York casino. I was the only person on the ride – front car of course – and it was the scariest rolly-coaster ride I’ve ever had, mostly because an early sharp turn caused my eyeglasses to fly off my face. My right hand shot up and caught them when they were about half off. My arm could barely reach around the thick foam neck brace so I leaned my head into my hand in order to keep my eyeglasses mashed hard into my face. I was terrified that I would lose them; I can’t drive or see or do much of anything without my glasses and losing them would have completely derailed my trip in an instant. I spent the remainder of the ride careening around sharp corners and impossible dives blind and frozen in fear.
The experience put me off of roller coasters for a long long time.
Todd Man Out 