I guess most people have an image of Las Vegas in their mind, shaped from a multitude of references where the city has appeared during the years. One might think that you arrive to Sin City by casually driving your car down the Strip, throwing your car keys to a valet and start indulging in whatever the premises have to offer.
For us that was actually the case, as I was driving our dusty Chevy directly from the desert into civilization. The city centre is quite compact and the hotels are quite easy to find. Just look for giant black pyramids, faux castles or similarly lavish buildings along the Strip.
Fortunately our arrival was less shaky than the one by Johnny Depp and Benicio del Toro in Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, and we even managed to stay off the sidewalk. The valet got the key, sneered a bit for not giving enough tip (the tip is never enough, even if you would give them a brick of gold) and off we went.
Next step was to be oozing cool like George Clooney in Ocean’s Eleven, look as well-connected as Frank Sinatra and stay away from the freebie drinks to avoid ending up like Nicholas Cage in Leaving Las Vegas. But in reality I soon felt more like the later edition of Elvis, both size-wise after we had gorged on the ridiculously large buffets, and look-wise as I sweated like a pig in the heat while navigating through the hordes of drunk tourists roaming freely between the casino areas.
I tried to make up for the expensive hotel rates by filling my breakfast plate to match Mr Creosote, but soon discovered that I stood no chance in comparison to the tiny grandmas who ate twice as much, with only cakes on their plate.
My favorite thing turned out to be just exploring the settings. Walk along the canals and piazzas of The Venetian, see a medieval tournament in the basement of Excalibur, behold the music fountain outside the Bellagio, check out the volcano at Mirage, taking the roller-coaster among the skyscrapers of New York and finally finding a Cold Stone ice cream parlor.
Fun times in Sin City.