After finally taking a couple of much needed days off from work, I decided to take a quick trip out of town - to Las Vegas. Sure, I've lived in LA for four years; but this was my first visit to Sin City. I derived some conclusions:
First, Vegas is hott. With two T's. We are in the desert, you know. (Why did I not pack a pair of shorts?)
Second, Vegas is dusty. We are in the desert, people.
Third, Vegas smells like stale cigarette smoke. At least - every casino floor, and thus the majority of every hotel's ground floor reeks of the stuff.
Fourth, Vegas is expensive. Hotel stays are attractively low in price but what puts you in the red may be the food, show tickets, and gambling.
Fifth, other than gambling and shows, there isn't much else I'm interested in. I've concluded that Vegas isn't meant for me as a vacation spot. Two days and that's really plenty of time there. Any longer and the buffets would be enough to blow 10 pounds onto my frame.
Sixth, frankly, if anyone ever speaks frankly anymore (or says the word "frankly), there's something in the air that didn't sit well with me. Could it be the droves of drunk college students and twentysomethings (and fiftysomethings) stumbling around the Strip, carrying their open containers of alcohol and smoking a cig ?
That Vegas crowd - my goodness. If Cancun and Disneyland had a baby...
The same Strip which is covered with strollers being pushed by parents on a family vacation is the same one which is littered with Hispanic men (and women) slapping their calling cards at passersby while donning neon colored tee shirts promoting the services of legit call girls. And the young dressed-up couples walk past them, as do the elderly couples.
Hustling. That's the word that came to mind to see people working outside on the sidwalk in the scorching 110 degree desert to make a living.
Its as if The Strip is this odd concoction from a nouveau riche trailer park brain - grand, lavish, gaudy hotels each ornately themed with its own regalia, but circulating these monoliths are intoxicated vacationers and sex-pushing hustlers. Each replete with its own football field lengths of casino floor which are inevitable with every entry and exit from the hotel.
So, sixth, the air reeked of desperation. And that didn't sit so well.
Nevertheless, I did find some positives in the midst of the gluttony and bacchanalia:
COTW
Capriotti's. A best kept secret is this hole-in-the-wall sandwich joint. I ordered the club sandwich, which ended up being a massive MEAT SANDWICH which kept me full for eight hours. I know. The club sandwich consisted of turkey and cranberry sauce plus mayo and lettuce and also ham on a signature double-decker. The turkey is roasted, though, not your regular ol' cold cuts. Result ? Delicious in a comforting way - comfortlicious, if you will.
Herr's potato chips. I know I'm putting two food items down as my COTW for this posting - but worth all the noteworthiness. Ketchup chips. Salt and vinegar chips. Both are the best I've ever had anywhere - Herr's is a Pennsylvania-based company so I was surprised to see Capriotti's carrying them in Vegas.
Time to start planning the next vacation.
