I’m not a gambler. The gaming tables baffle me, and the slots bore me. So why did I book a long weekend recently in Las Vegas, America’s neon-splashed capital of luck and loss?
One reason: My wife invited me. She flew in for a conference, and I tagged along at modest extra expense. The real reason: Even for a non-gambler, the brash, noisy, 24/7 city pulsates with fun. Wholesome fun, really, despite its outworn reputation as Sin City. I’ve been there many times. I’ve never lost much; I’ve never won much. But I’m eager to return–if only to see what’s new.
Let me tell you about my last visit. It’s a tale of three perfect days in Vegas, or how a tightwad like me took advantage of all the exotic entertainment (much of it for free) welcoming visitors eager to wager or not.
Sure, I gambled a few bucks–well 20 bucks (my limit), stuffed a quarter at a time into random slots. But right there on Las Vegas Boulevard–the famous “Strip”–I watched a volcano erupt, got soaked bouncing through a fake Grand Canyon on a rubber raft, won a Teddy bear at a giant carnival midway, soaked up the sun at my hotel pool, caught a terrific show one night and even toured King Tut’s Tomb (another fake, of course, but fakery Las Vegas-style is part of the fun).
Here’s my journal, should you be tempted to try for three perfect days of your own.
Day One
Morning: The World in a Nutshell. Not a cloud in the sky as I peer from the window of our room at the Mirage, one of the upscale behemoths (3,000 rooms) lining the Strip. My wife, Sandy, already has departed for the conference registration desk. I’m going exploring.
I want to see the grandiose new hotels that have opened since my last visit–especially the much-touted Venetian complete with gondola rides on an ersatz canal. I’ve been to the real Venice; I’m curious how La Serenissima is replicated here in the desert. Who wouldn’t be intrigued by the tacky idea?
Here’s my sightseeing strategy. Studying my guide book, I’ve discovered I can tour the Strip in air-conditioned (mostly) comfort using the trams, monorails, moving walkways and pedestrian bridges that link the most famous casinos–including the newest ones. A sort-of giant non-stop amusement ride, it’s the best way to hit all the top spots–and not spend a penny for taxi, bus or parking. I give myself three hours for the trip; I’ll cover about 1.5 miles down one side of the Strip and up the other.
My tour begins at Treasure Island, where each evening blazing cannons erupt in the Buccaneer Bay Sea Battle, a free live-action show with an 18th Century Caribbean theme. Right now I’m just checking out the scene; I’ll be back later to catch the action. From here, I board the old-fashioned, trolley-like elevated tram that carries me south to the Mirage. As I did after breakfast, crowds are peering through a lobby window at one of the rare white tigers starring in the popular Siegfried & Roy magic show staged for years at the Mirage. I catch a second glimpse–the tiger appears to be asleep–and a moving walkway transports me on to the Forum Shops at Caesars Palace.
On I go, exiting Caesars on a garden walkway that connects with a pedestrian bridge to Bellagio, named for the northern Italian village overlooking Lake Como. This Bellagio surveys a massive pool that, while it only hints of the beauty of the Italian lake country, does erupt nightly in a sparkling dance of fountains and lights. A Disney-like elevated train takes me on to the Monte Carlo, which shares the name if not the glamor of Monaco’s capital, and from here I cross the street and step onto the Brooklyn Bridge at New York, New York. Ahead are the Statue of Liberty and the Empire State Building. A 200-foot-high Coney Island roller-coaster races overhead between them.
From the Big Apple, a mezzanine walkway approaches Excalibur, a fairytale castle of turrets, towers and crenellated walls where dragons and wizards hide. Beyond, an indoor walkway deposits me inside the 30-story Luxor, the glass and steel re-creation of an Egyptian pyramid. I stayed here on another visit. The elevators, climbing at an angle toward the point tip of the structure, befuddle the mind. I continue on via an indoor corridor to Mandalay Bay, a first visit for me. I watch the throngs bobbing in the giant wave pool at the resort’s 11-acre beach playground and promise myself to stay here next time.
At this point, I begin my return journey back up the Strip. A modernistic tram glides gently back to the Excalibur. I take the pedestrian bridge across the Strip to the 5,000-room MGM Grand, one of the world’s largest, where a huge Adventures Theme Park is packing in the crowds. I climb aboard a monorail that takes me over the park to Bally’s, an old-style casino. Here gambling takes precedence over pizzazz. A moving sidewalk returns me to the Strip, and I find myself standing beneath the Eiffel Tower at Paris-Las Vegas. To reach the Venetian, final stop on this whirlwind romp around the world, I cross the Strip to Bellagio, retrace my path to the Mirage and re-cross the Strip.
Now I’m gazing at a splendid, red brick replica of Venice’s famed Piazza San Marco. A gondolier waves, as he might in Venice, and poles down a shop-lined canal. But what’s missing? Thousands of pigeons that swarm across the real San Marco. I like the piazza without them.
Afternoon: A Rollicking Canyon Ride. My wife is now free for the day, and I meet her at the MGM Grand. She is playing the Ruby Red Slippers slot machine, her sentimental tribute to “The Wizard of Oz.” Perhaps Glinda, the good witch, is at her side, because she pockets $34 in winnings. It proves just enough for a fine lunch at the hotel’s hip, hot Wolfgang Puck Cafe. I order an Asian-flavored salad tossed with fried noodles, ginger and sesame oil. Of Los Angeles fame, Wolfgang Puck is one of the noted American chefs opening branches in Las Vegas.
We’re here to play at the hotel’s 33-acre open-air amusement park, which boasts a miniature Grand Canyon. Yelps of delight echo from it as we approach. “You’re gonna get wet,” an attendant warns as we climb aboard a large round raft. No matter; the sun blazes hot. Off we go, launched on a bouncing, spinning ride down the rapids of a pseudo Colorado River. At every twist, a spray of water splashes our tube, and we are indeed soaked. “Let’s go do it again,” I urge, and then back we go for a third run.
Evening: A Caribbean Adventure. At Treasure Island, the casino crowds hovering over the slots seem oblivious of time. But like me, they have their eyes on the clock ready to head outside en masse to catch the free Buccaneer Bay Sea Battle. A rousing historical novel come alive, it’s a terrific full-scale production. I count a costumed cast of 20, who re-create a bloody naval duel in a Caribbean pirate lair.
With appropriate fanfare, full-sized replicas of two sailing ships–a British frigate and a tall-masted pirate vessel–are soon blasting away at each other. Cannons boom, billowing clouds of flame shoot skyward, and crewmen tumble head over heels into a mock sea. On this Treasure Island, it’s the scruffy pirates who ultimately win, as the ornate British ship suddenly tilts dangerously and begins to sink. In 10 minutes, the spectacle is over, and the crowds hurry back to the slots.
Not us: We catch a taxi to MGM Grand for dinner at chef Mark Miller’s Coyote Cafe, featuring his Santa Fe-style, chili-spiced version of Southwestern cuisine. I order a char-grilled filet of beef with garlic mashed potatoes and a ragout of lima beans, artichokes and grilled tomatoes. For dessert, we stroll back up the Strip, taking in the dazzling display of neon and other decorative lighting. Outside the Luxor pyramid, a mammoth orange Sphinx broods mysteriously, its eyes beaming intimidating rays of color. On this night, I am more attracted to the friendlier fairytale lights outlining Excalibur.
After Hours: Dance Away the Night. Sandy faces early morning breakfast meetings each day, so we tuck in early. The rest of the city seems to have other plans–the casinos, maybe a lounge show or a club, where they can dance away the night.
Day Two
Morning: Desert Sightseeing. Years ago I arrived in Las Vegas (well, almost) on a real week-long raft trip down the Grand Canyon to Lake Mead, a few miles outside the city. At the time, I missed a chance to tour Hoover Dam, which created the 110-mile-long reservoir on the Colorado River. Today is my chance. The drive takes about 45 minutes.
Built in the 1930s, the 726-foot-high dam, an impressive sight, is one of the largest in the world. Exhibits at the dam’s Visitor Center detail its use for hydro-electric power and irrigation, and then a 30-minute escorted tour of the generator room provides a close-up look at its operation. The highlight is a speedy elevator descent to the base of the dam for an awesome view from the bottom up. Following the tragic events of Sept 11, tours were temporarily suspended for security reasons but have now resumed on a limited basis. (Call ahead at 702-294-3523.)
Afterward, take a scenic drive or hike one of the short desert trails at Lake Mead National Recreation Area, a 2,400-square-mile park where the Mojave, Sonoran and Great Basin Deserts come together. The park’s Visitor Center, about 4 miles from the dam, can point the way. Seemingly barren, and one of the world’s hottest and driest spots, the region entices with its odd shapes and deep rock colors. After the din of the casinos, the quiet is welcome.
Afternoon: A Refreshing Dip. Like the Mandalay Bay, the big casino hotels sport lavish swimming pool complexes. After a desert trek, the Mirage’s tropical pool garden beckons. A series of interconnected lagoons encircle a pair of palm-draped islands, and a trio of slides plummet from a rock grotto. I settle into a lounge chair with a mystery novel, but give it up to watch the eye-popping parade of bodies passing by. The pool is heated in winter.
If temperatures turn too frosty, I suggest heading for Circus-Circus or Treasure Island to play their nostalgic line-up of old-fashioned carnival games of chance. I won a stuffed Teddy bear (my biggest Vegas win yet) by tossing a bunch of wooden balls into a hole faster and more accurately than my competition.
Evening: Ballet al Fresco. We sip cocktails in the Mirage with Sandy’s conference buddies and then head on foot for the Bellagio to catch the free dancing waters show. Each evening, the hotel’s lake, which stretches for nearly two blocks, delights with a series of 15-minute displays–the finest of their kind I’ve ever seen. I think I’m watching a ballet as the fountains whirl and leap across the lake, ultimately dipping in a graceful bow. Afterward, we step inside for dinner at Circo, a brightly decorated restaurant with New York antecedents specializing in country Tuscan cuisine. The real lakeside village of Bellagio, where we once stayed, is located well north of Tuscany, I observe to Sandy as we enter. She hushes me. I opt for the grilled veal chop with polenta.
Day Three
Morning: A Dose of Culture. Our final day already, and still so much to see. The Liberace Museum? Spare me. The historic car museum at the Imperial Palace might be interesting. I seriously consider the Gallery of Fine Art at the Bellagio. Oddly enough, exhibits of serious art have become a big deal in Las Vegas. As I write this journal back at home, I learn that the Solomon R.Guggenheim Museum in New York and the State Hermitage Museum in St. Petersburg, Russia, have combined to open a Las Vegas branch in the Venetian. Amazing. Out of schlock, an urge for class seems to be emerging.
On this morning, it’s King Tut’s Tomb at the Luxor that intrigues me. I’ve never been to Egypt. Beneath the casino floor, a replica of the tomb–dim, narrow corridors and stone walls–is filled with hundreds of reproductions of the treasures found in the original–pottery, baskets, Tut’s gold sarcophagus. As I listen to the audiophone narration, I realize I’m actually learning about Tut and his fellow pharaohs. This dose of brainwork after three days of mindless entertainment is curiously refreshing.
Afternoon: At the Mall. Sandy’s conference is over, and she wants to spend the afternoon shopping. I’m happy to join her. The Vegas malls aren’t like anything at home. First stop is the Forum Shops at Caesars, where we linger over lunch at Spago, another Wolfgang Puck eatery. A few steps away, we watch the fabled city of Atlantis, perched high on a rocking cliff, sink in a swirl of mist and mystical rhetoric. And then it pops right back up again. An awesome spectacle, it’s another of the city’s free shows. But I don’t quite grasp what it’s supposed to mean. I’m more entertained by the 100 stylish shops obviously flourishing in ancient Rome. Piazzas, statuary, fountains and facades surround me. Maybe this is what the original Roman Forum, now only ruins, once looked like. At the Venetian, we skip the gondola ride (we did it in Venice) to browse the upscale shops of the Grand Canal. The window displays resemble artworks at a museum of contemporary art.
Evening: The Grand Finale. Dinner is a quick buffet, as I recall. We want to catch the eruption of the volcano just outside the Mirage. Every 15 minutes into the evening, flames and smoke shoot from the towering volcano (fake, need I say) ringed by tropical foliage. And then the flames cascade down its slopes like rivers of molten lava. Between shows, the volcano becomes a splashing fountain.
Now we hurry off to the grand finale, a night at Le Cirque du Soleil at Treasure Island. Since 1993, the show, called “Mystere,” has been packing in the crowds, and for good reason. It’s a dazzling 90-minute extravaganza of high-wire acrobatics and ballet that leaves me amazed and enchanted–an upbeat ending to an upbeat trip.
Back at the Mirage, we each pump $10 in quarters into the slots, our last chance at the jackpot. No such luck. Ah, well, three great days here is reward enough.
