Vegas

It is with a certain degree of pride that I say none of the three of us liked Las Vegas. I didn't expect to, but I think the others were disappointed. Some of the factors were  to be expected - a certain tacky brashness and none of us are natural gamblers - but it was still disappointing.

First we expected the hotel, being one of the big Vegas hotels on the Strip, to be glamorous. It was not. Overcrowded. It was how I imagine a Cruise to be if you were stuck in dock for a fortnight. I suppose being British I should like it because the overwhelming feature was queuing. Long queue to check-in, ok, but even to get into any restaurant. Long queues to get into the the Starbucks for breakfast for example. And of all the hotels, grand and modest, in which we stayed, the Mirage was the only one not to have coffee in your room. Everything costs extra. Most objectionable is the compulsory "resort fee" of 30 USD for the hotel's facilities. So 60 dollars to use the hotel pool is hardly a bargain.

After our Grand Canyon trip, Joe and I met up with a grumpy Thibault, who had given up waiting for us at the hotel bar because it was so awful, to go for dinner. After the excess of the buffet the night before and in view of the exorbitant prices in the hotel restaurants, we decided to go out for dinner. Thibault found a Thai restaurant with good reviews down Fremont Street, which was a fair way away from the Strip so we got a taxi.

Nothing could prepare you for Fremont Street. Its the tackiest place I have ever been to (and I have been to Scarborough!). Its a wide pedestrianised street, covered by a canopy, with street entertainers throughout, typically not very attractive scantly clad dancers. Its lined with bars and fast food restaurants. If I tell you almost all the bars were "advertised" by a bikini clad gyrating young woman outside you may gather the class. Overhead there were zip wires for people to fly down the street. Its busy, noisy and bizarre, but had a certain fascination. However, being well past 9pm we were hungry. We found our little Thai place, only to be told we would have to wait for an hour for a table to come free. Too late for us. So we just continued down the road, with nothing edible in sight beyond burgers.

One of the classier restaurants on Fremont Street

Eventually we went into a semi-trendy little adult play park with small shops around and some apparatus in the middle including a slide/helter-skelter which was fun (although I scraped my elbow on the way down). Anyway we found a tolerable little bar/eaterie and somehow survived the freezing air conditioning (impressive contrast to the heat outside).

After a little play we part walked home, but Joe was tired and hailed a taxi half way there so we didn't get to to walk through the glamour part of the Strip.

Joe and Thibault walking towards the Stratosphere at night

So to see the Strip I got up at 6;30 next morning and trotted out past the sad breakfast gamblers in the hotel and onto the streets.

 

 My only companions were the odd jogger and the homeless (who are legion). However, this is the one part that was more impressive than I expected, and less tacky. I really quite liked all the outside parts of the glitzy hotels of the Strip, especially as I had them almost to myself without the drunks of the night.