There’s a reason that Las Vegas is called Sin City. It’s that good! After an initial doubt about how much of Vegas I could handle (thinking that it would be at least ten times as bad and tacky as Sun City near Johannesburg, and definitely much worse than ‘The Strip’ in Cancun, Mexico), I now sit here on the plane on my way back to New York, wishing that I had just a little more time.
It seems like all of Vegas is a stage, with breathtaking performances everywhere for the taking. If it’s not a real-time pirate battle until one of the life-sized vessles capsize, it’s an erupting volcano that leaves the ground trembling, or a waterfall with digital images displayed onto it while larger-than-life dragons hover over the top, if you can imagine it, Vegas will provide it.
John and I left a rainy New York on Friday after work to fly three hours back in time to the West Coast and landed at Vegas airport (located pretty much in the centre of town) at around 9.30 pm. We checked into Trump Las Vegas and, through his cunning abilities, John got us upgraded to a suite on the 59th floor where we had our own jacuzzi bath, a kitchenette that included a stove and oven (!) and a view of the Vegas strip that cannot be beat. After unpacking, we headed out for a bite to eat and John played his hand at Craps (and won three times what he was betting – alas, that winning streak did not extend beyond just Friday night!) and we walked the brightly lit streets of Vegas until 2am (5am New York time!). We both had a hard time falling asleep as our veins were pulsing with excitement. Vegas was so much more than we had expected!
On Saturday morning we were up early and headed out for ‘The Buffet’ at the Wynn – a $40 extravaganza with baked goods, any kind of egg, any kind of sausage, cheese, cold cut, warm cut, fruit, roast vegetables, rice and deserts that I could only dream of available for the taking. And more taking. And even more taking. I was in heaven. (Until my stomach hurt from overeating, of course).
We couldn’t eat anything else for the rest of the day.
But the brunch did prepare us for the noon-time visit in 103F / 40C to the Neon Graveyard – the final resting ground for some of the old neon billboards of Vegas. What a treat! From the original Stardust letters to leftover signs from some of the wedding chapels along the strip, this was truly off the beaten path and a rare find. Our host, sweating almost as much as the members of our tour group, entertained us with the background stories of Vegas and we hopped from shady spot to shady spot, sipping water throughout, but actually enjoying the dry heat of the Nevada desert. Photography at this site was pure bliss.
After sweating our way through the Neon Boneyard we hopped on a local bus, got better acquainted with some of the (toothless) locals and drove past yet more wedding chappels and newly married couples on our way to the Las Vegas Premium Outlet Center to pick up a pair of sunglasses for John, who had (conveniently?) forgotten his old ones at home. Vegas was not to be tackled without shades. After finding a beautiful pair of Tom Ford’s for him, and a couple of discounted items for me of course, we headed back to our hotel – via a quick foot massage pitstop – and lounged by the pool for a good hour. Then it was off for a shower and we dressed up for a night on the town, starting with Cirque du Soleil’s ‘O’.
And ‘O’ what a magnificent, magnificent show that was! I literally sat with my mouth hanging open at times and once again displayed my empathy for height-devying acrobats by getting severly sweaty palms everytime they performed one of their breathtaking acts. (Insert a John-giggle here). Amazing. Wow.
After ‘O’ we headed for some expensive sushi inside the Bellagio casino from where we watched the famous water show, performed to the American national anthem. From here we ventured over to the Wynn Hotel where we gambled a little more and eventually made our way back to Trump to fall into bed, exhausted yet exhilarated.
Sunday was somewhat less action-packed, although we did attempt to go indoor skydiving (I know…what was I thinking? And what would I NOT do when prompted by John?). After waiting around for an hour and enduring the instruction video, we were geared up, earplugged, goggled, and serverly anxious (okay, honestly, that was just me) when the engine of the turbine wind propeller overheated and we had to get a refund. John was terribly disappointed. As was I. No, I’m being honest – it did look like fun!
More time at the pool, more gambling, more eating and then we headed over to the Wynn’s Encore hotel to check into the room where I would be staying for the week. Oooo la la! All I can say is that five star is definitely the way to go if you’re going to go to Vegas. Motorized curtains (both sheer and silk), a mini bar that automatically adds what you take out to your room bill after 15 minutes (so no, don’t take stuff out to chill your own bottle of cheap wine – it’ll cost you!) and a suite that was the size of our entire New York apartment. Pure bliss.
After another great dinner on Sunday night, John caught the red-eye back to New York and I reclined in my luxurious suite to await the week. My boss was being honored at a big convention, so we had an action-packed schedule from Monday through Wednesday (think more dinners, more parties, more gambling – of all kinds, and you get the picture). So it was with a mix of regret and relief that I loaded my suitcase into the back of the towncar to take me to the airport this morning. In five hours I’ll be eight hours ahead of time and back in the hustle and bustle of New York City. And back to one-bedroom living on the Upper West Side.
My only real regret? I didn’t spot Elvis.
There’s a reason that Las Vegas is called Sin City. It’s that good! After an initial doubt about how much of Vegas I could handle (thinking that it would be at least ten times as bad and tacky as Sun City near Johannesburg, and definitely much worse than ‘The Strip’ in Cancun, Mexico), I now sit here on the plane on my way back to New York, wishing that I had just a little more time.
It seems like all of Vegas is a stage, with breathtaking performances everywhere for the taking. If it’s not a real-time pirate battle until one of the life-sized vessles capsize, it’s an erupting volcano that leaves the ground trembling, or a waterfall with digital images displayed onto it while larger-than-life dragons hover over the top, if you can imagine it, Vegas will provide it.
John and I left a rainy New York on Friday after work to fly three hours back in time to the West Coast and landed at Vegas airport (located pretty much in the centre of town) at around 9.30 pm. We checked into Trump Las Vegas and, through his cunning abilities, John got us upgraded to a suite on the 59th floor where we had our own jacuzzi bath, a kitchenette that included a stove and oven (!) and a view of the Vegas strip that cannot be beat. After unpacking, we headed out for a bite to eat and John played his hand at Craps (and won three times what he was betting – alas, that winning streak did not extend beyond just Friday night!) and we walked the brightly lit streets of Vegas until 2am (5am New York time!). We both had a hard time falling asleep as our veins were pulsing with excitement. Vegas was so much more than we had expected!
On Saturday morning we were up early and headed out for ‘The Buffet’ at the Wynn – a $40 extravaganza with baked goods, any kind of egg, any kind of sausage, cheese, cold cut, warm cut, fruit, roast vegetables, rice and deserts that I could only dream of available for the taking. And more taking. And even more taking. I was in heaven. (Until my stomach hurt from overeating, of course).
We couldn’t eat anything else for the rest of the day.
But the brunch did prepare us for the noon-time visit in 103F / 40C to the Neon Graveyard – the final resting ground for some of the old neon billboards of Vegas. What a treat! From the original Stardust letters to leftover signs from some of the wedding chapels along the strip, this was truly off the beaten path and a rare find. Our host, sweating almost as much as the members of our tour group, entertained us with the background stories of Vegas and we hopped from shady spot to shady spot, sipping water throughout, but actually enjoying the dry heat of the Nevada desert. Photography at this site was pure bliss.
After sweating our way through the Neon Boneyard we hopped on a local bus, got better acquainted with some of the (toothless) locals and drove past yet more wedding chappels and newly married couples on our way to the Las Vegas Premium Outlet Center to pick up a pair of sunglasses for John, who had (conveniently?) forgotten his old ones at home. Vegas was not to be tackled without shades. After finding a beautiful pair of Tom Ford’s for him, and a couple of discounted items for me of course, we headed back to our hotel – via a quick foot massage pitstop – and lounged by the pool for a good hour. Then it was off for a shower and we dressed up for a night on the town, starting with Cirque du Soleil’s ‘O’.
And ‘O’ what a magnificent, magnificent show that was! I literally sat with my mouth hanging open at times and once again displayed my empathy for height-devying acrobats by getting severly sweaty palms everytime they performed one of their breathtaking acts. (Insert a John-giggle here). Amazing. Wow.
After ‘O’ we headed for some expensive sushi inside the Bellagio casino from where we watched the famous water show, performed to the American national anthem. From here we ventured over to the Wynn Hotel where we 
gambled a little more and eventually made our way back to Trump to fall into bed, exhausted yet exhilarated.
Sunday was somewhat less action-packed, although we did attempt to go indoor skydiving (I know…what was I thinking? And what would I NOT do when prompted by John?). After waiting around for an hour and enduring the instruction video, we were geared up, earplugged, goggled, and serverly anxious (okay, honestly, that was just me) when the engine of the turbine wind propeller overheated and we had to get a refund. John was terribly disappointed. As was I. No, I’m being honest – it did look like fun!
More time at the pool, more gambling, more eating and then we headed over to the Wynn’s Encore hotel to check into the room where I would be staying for the week. Oooo la la! All I can say is that five star is definitely the way to go if you’re going to go to Vegas. Motorized curtains (both sheer and silk), a mini bar that automatically adds what you take out to your room bill after 15 minutes (so no, don’t take stuff out to chill your own bottle of cheap wine – it’ll cost you!) and a suite that was the size of our entire New York apartment. Pure bliss.
After another great dinner on Sunday night, John caught the red-eye back to New York and I reclined in my luxurious suite to await the week. My boss was being honored at a big convention, so we had an action-packed schedule from Monday through Wednesday (think more dinners, more parties, more gambling – of all kinds, and you get the picture). So it was with a mix of regret and relief that I loaded my suitcase into the back of the towncar to take me to the airport this morning. In five hours I’ll be eight hours ahead of time and back in the hustle and bustle of New York City. And back to one-bedroom living on the Upper West Side.
My only real regret? I didn’t spot Elvis.
