Ron-pinion piece #3- Reflections on traveling to Las Vegas with
a family or: Why to leave the family at home ...
Writing is not an easy thing. I'm not referring to the worries caused by misplaced modifiers and dangling participles,
although they are worrisome and very similar. No, I'm referring to the fact that, at times, the well goes dry and you
can't seem to come up with even a worthy topic, let alone an entire essay that will either entertain or inform. So,
when in doubt, the writer turns to the old standard, reflecting on his experiences and finding some modicum of
universal truth to share with his devoted readership.
Since I don't have a devoted readership, this will have to do. Your gain.
Maybe you have children and have heard that Vegas, once a hotbed of sinful activity, had cleaned up its act and is
now more family friendly. If you are under this unfortunate assumption, I have good news; it ain't family friendly. I
have more bad news; it ain't a hotbed of sinful activity. No, Las Vegas is existing in that limbo-like Purgatory known
as being a "Resort Destination." In other words, everything is big, expensive, lavish, and very far apart. Families
are still welcome, but so are dickheads and fat bimbos there for bachelor and bachelorette parties. Can you say,
"Volatile mix?" Sure, I knew you could.
Tip #1: Quit being a cheap bastard and valet the minivan (I drive an SUV)
When traveling to Las Vegas the first thing to know is this, parking lots are located so far away from hotel lobbies
that the unsuspecting family actually changes zip code three times just walking from their car to the front desk.
"Self-park," as it is called, is usually located behind the hotel, keeping the morons who have parked there a safe
distance from the well monied guests who were smart enough to utilize the free valet parking. "Self-parkers" are a
determined lot. No one is going to park their car for them and then expect a whole dollar as a tip. Are you nuts? A
dollar? There's a whole structure out back where you can park for free. Sucker. Needless to say, I self-parked
then quickly put my car into valet once I discovered that the Mandalay Bay Resort and Casino has its self parking
lot in Jean, Nevada. Nothing better than traipsing your family through a "high-end" casino dragging suitcases, bags
of food, and an ice chest full of beer. I'm pretty sure no one was staring.
Tip #2: Walking on The Strip can be hazardous to your health; mentally and physically
Next, when staying in Vegas, with or without a family, do not walk along "The Strip." The Strip is the main drag in
Las Vegas where most of the big name resorts are located. By some cruel trick of optical illusion, everything looks
much closer together than it actually is. Maybe it's the heat, the proximity of the huge gleaming signs, or just the
immensity of the resorts themselves but everything looks a hell of a lot closer together when you're driving in.
Everything looks closer together at the beginning of CSI: Crime Scene Investigation (the most redundant name for
a show since Navy: NCIS), too. I should have known better when I saw the property line for Mandalay Bay starts at
Russell Road and continue to Tropicana Lane, two miles to the north on Interstate 15.
It's a big place.
Back to the point, walking on The Strip. Let's say you leave Mandalay via a convenient monorail that takes you
those two miles to the Excalibur (where kids are king). From there, you easily walk to the New York, New York,
then across the street to the MGM Grand and its many shops and amusements. But the illusion has already
worked its magic. You begin to feel cocky. Your family seems hearty. It's late in the day and you've somehow
eluded several well dressed sales people trying to "give" you free show tickets (all you have to do is sit through a
90 minute sales pitch for some God-forsaken time share called Tahiti Village, which resembles neither Tahiti nor a
village). The secret to eluding these persistent hacks? Tell them you're leaving tonight. Works like a charm. So,
you decide you can make it up another mile or so to the mall at the Aladdin (or is it Planet Hollywood?). Big
mistake. A mile in the desert is equal to 10 miles at the beach. You soon discover that as the MGM Grand and
Monte Carlo pass out of sight, so does civility. Soon you are engulfed in endless throngs of fellow mistaken
walkers trying to make their way up The Strip whilst avoiding outrageous taxi fares (20 bucks a mile, no shit). You
also begin to realize that the heat, although it's 5:00 in the afternoon, is stifling. You pass the Hawaiian
Marketplace (bizarre at the very least is Las Vegas' obsession with all things Hawaii) and park in front of the huge
fans with misters attached only to be chased away by approaching Tahiti Village salespeople (they are everywhere).
Suddenly, you hear a strange slapping sound coming from all around you. You look up only to discover, far too
late, that some illegal alien is trying to hand you a glossy card with a nearly nude stripper's picture and phone
number printed on it, advertising low rates for "private shows" and "group rates." Maybe it's just me, but I kept
wondering if these illegal aliens (I'm fairly sure they were not here legally just based on the nature of their jobs)
really risked life and limb, crossing the desert, avoiding detection by Border Patrol agents and Minutemen, going
days without food or water just to spend hours each day trying to stick some hooker's card in my hand as I walk
along a crowded thoroughfare with my 4 year-old son. Really? This is the better life you had in mind? Your life in
your home country must have been absolute shit to settle for this kind of existence. I bet the family back home is
proud. I can only imagine the letter home:
Dear family,
Today I handed out about 500 cards for my employer, Taniqua. She is very proud of me and says I'm the best card
slapper she's ever had. She's promised me a private session for free if I keep it up. I'm pretty sure that a private
session is a good thing. I'll tell you all about it after it happens.
Pray for me. Here's $50 from my first paycheck. It's half of what I earned after I paid off my smuggler.
Love,
Rigoberto
You are living the dream, my friend. Top of the world.
Finally, some 45 minutes later, you reach your destination; the Desert Passage marketplace. You scuttle into the
ABC Market (a Hawaiian convenience store chain; there are two in the mall. See Vegas' obsession with Hawaii)
buy the kids a water and yourself a tallboy. You walk around the mall and see its signature attraction; an indoor
rainstorm. Totally nonplussed, you leave with a plan; walk up to Hooters for dinner (I really love the fact that Ron
was going to take his wife and kids to Hooters for "dinner." You, sir, are a class act. -Ed). Fight all of the
aforementioned obstacles without the tallboy (because you downed the motherfucker PDQ) or patience and get to
Hooters 45 minutes later. That leads me to my next point; eating with a family in Vegas.
Tip #3: Bring your own food and drink. . .lots of drink
If you are not independently wealthy or on your company's expense account, eating with a family in Vegas is
impossible. At least on The Strip it is. We arrived at Hooters fondly remembering our last visit (we ate lunch, had
our beer comped, and I won $250; the trifecta). That fond memory evaporated immediately upon being told we
would have to wait an hour or more for a table. See, Hooters has gambling in the restaurant, so they only dedicate
about two tables off to the side for"Under 21" seating. Since there was already a lucky family of about 20 enjoying
their meal, we were shit out of luck. No problem, we'll go next door to the Tropicana, an "old school" Vegas casino
with"atmosphere." We asked a bartender where a family could eat in the fine casino. He had to think about it for
about five minutes and finally came up with, "The Deli." Or, we could try the buffet. No thanks, we'll try our luck at
The Excalibur.
A quick walk across the pedestrian bridge, a ride on the moving sidewalk (always popular with the kids and tired
adults), and we're in the Excalibur. We then have the choice of the steakhouse, an Italian place, the buffet (ugh),
and a hard to find coffee shop. Naturally, my family settled on. . .the food court. OK, it's not as bad as it seems.
One kid gets Chinese, one gets Quizno's, one gets Pizza Hut, and the son and I split Chicken McNuggets from a
quaint little Scottish hamburger establishment. Everyone's happy. They're so happy they make plans to return the
next morning to get Krispy Kremes and Starbuck's. Yipee! See, eating breakfast at the Mandalay involves either
standing in line for the buffet or waiting for over an hour to pay $15 for a stack of pancakes, of which your children
will only eat half. Monorail ho! Off to the Excalibur we go. At least the first day we were there, we had breakfast at
the aforementioned Scottish place across the street from Mandalay. Not too bad, but not great either. Bottom line;
if you want to eat in Vegas and you're towing kids, forget it. Bring your own food and a hot plate.
Tip #4: Forget about avoiding crowds, idiots, and bimbos
People. Loads and loads of people. They're everywhere in Vegas and most of them don't have two brain cells to
rub together. My favorites are the ones there for a "last fling" before marriage. Good idea; take a woman soon to
be married; ship her off to a place with flowing free booze (in some places) and dozens of horny douchebag men;
dress her up in all sorts of mini-penises; give her a penis whistle; bring along several penis pops; get her liquored
up and watch the hilarity ensue. I saw one woman at that Scottish burger place yelling at her friends to get her
"some fucking ketchup; just get some fucking ketchup. It's right over there. Fucking ketchup!" This, at about 6:30
in the afternoon. I bet she had fun the rest of the night. These people are everywhere. They can't be avoided.
Call me old fashioned, but what does it say about your pending marriage when you're in Vegas, covered in plastic
penises, drunk off your ass, and tongue wrestling with every douchebag in sight? Nothing like building that house
on a solid foundation of trust. They say, "What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas." These people need to stay in
Vegas permanently with their flingy behavior. Their future spouses would be better off. With or without ketchup.
On the other hand, I did run into several travelers from Great Brittan (England, Scotland, and Wales- not
necessarily in that order). Most of these people seemed genuinely pleased to be in Las Vegas. One chap from
Glasgow, my grandfather's hometown, said something to that effect when I spoke to him. At least I think he said
that the place was "brilliant" or "ebullient" or"fucking awful." I'm not entirely sure as I was drunk and he was
Scottish. It was a magical U.N. moment in the making. I meant to ask him if he had tried the little Scottish burger
joint at the Excalibur. I don't think he would have understood.
The worst thing about the crowds is using the elevators in the hotels. Going up seemed to be no problem, but
going down was a gamble. Normally you push the down button, wait for the next car, walk in, and in about 30
seconds you're in the lobby. Not so in Vegas. There, you push the button, wait about three minutes for the next
car, listen for the tone indicating which car is coming, walk over to said car only to see it's already packed with 10
members of a bridal party covered in penises. Deciding the kids are probably better off not riding in that particular
car, you wait for the next one. Soon you discover that each elevator is coming to your floor crammed full of
overweight pink tourists from the floors above you. Finally, your family bites the bullet and squeezes in next to Aunt
Irma and Uncle Clyde from Oklahoma City raving about the wonderful pastries they had this morning at the coffee
bar located just outside the elevators you fear will never make it to the lobby because you're stopping at every
fucking floor and more people are getting on at each stop when finally at the second floor you manage to scream at
the people trying to wedge themselves in between you and your four year-old son to take the fucking stairs you
lazy, good-for-nothing pieces of shit. It can be a trying experience.
Want to avoid crowds? Go to Laughlin. Half as many people and they're twice as old as you. Don't go to Primm.
That's where I go. Transition to final tip:
Tip #5: Don't go to Vegas looking for cheap or free booze
Vegas, to many, has always been about the three "B's"; Booze, Broads, and more Booze. Good news, the broads
are still there only their covered in penises and asking for ketchup. The bad news, for me anyway, is the booze
ain't cheap. Maybe it is downtown, but only suckers and the desperate go downtown anymore. Used to be that
you could just walk through a casino and get a drink. The house would count on you having a few and making your
way to a table and dropping 10 times the cost of the drink on 4 hands of blackjack. Not so anymore.
I went to the Island Bar at Mandalay to play some video poker and have a couple. Problem was the bar was
overcrowded with idiots buying drinks. Several drinks. Several expensive drinks. The worst of it all is, none of
these "partiers" are playing a single video poker machine. Don't even try to ask if you can get in there to play
because you'll soon find yourself scoffed at and ridiculed in front of the cool and hip, leaving you to skulk away to
your pathetic little hole in the floor. Luckily, I found two open machines at the bar with a bartender right in front of
me. I even got a couple of drinks out of the dude before he went off to look bored at the other side of the bar. One
poor schmuck came up and ordered three Coors Lights and was told his total would be $15. That amount hit him
like a ton of bricks because he immediately blurted,"I thought drinks were cheap in Vegas." To which I replied,
"Wrong end of town, dude."
The resorts in Vegas now cater to the party crowd there to drink and blow penis whistles. The gambler looking for
comps while playing can still get free drinks, just don't expect them in a timely manner. Luckily, the Luxor has a
great bar near the Ra nightclub with cool bartenders and booze poured from bottles, not shot out of a drink gun.
Nothing worse that calling your favorite gin in a drink and having it come out tasting like lighter fluid. Kind of takes
all the fun out of getting expensive drinks for free.
Bottom line; drink at the Luxor if you're gambling. The Excalibur was fine as well. I had a good bartender that kept
me supplied with Heinekins as I waited for the kids to finish wasting all my gambling money in the arcade.
Lesson learned:
Vegas is still fun; still decadent; still fucking huge. But, if you have a family, spend the money and hire a babysitter
or put them in a kennel while you visit Sin City. That, or take them to Legoland. I did, and I lived to tell the tale.