I had my ride drop me off in front of the Mirage, and I then headed north and tried to enter Gilley’s from the outside.

I soon realized the error of my ways.

To call the pedestrian situation in front of TI a “logistical nightmare” would be kind.  Calling it a clusterf**k would denigrate the beautiful act of making love to clusters.  Frankly, I don’t know what to call the situation other than a “complete and unadulterated mess”.

Sidewalk Crowd in front of Gilley's at TI

Sidewalk Crowd in front of Gilley's at TI

If you try to reach Gilley’s by walking north from the most populated portion of The Strip, you will quickly realize what a salmon feels like when it is trying to swim upstream.  At night, the TI plankbridge flows one-way, and that way is south.  This doesn’t sound like it should be a big deal, but as you can see from the photos … it is.  Gilley’s is segregated from all northbound pedestrian traffic by a rope, and this results in a dense, concentrated mosh of people directly in front of the bar which makes external entry the most monumental pain in the ass imaginable.  Yes, yes, that’s what she said.

After walking against the grain for 5 minutes, and smashing head-first into numerous people, I hopped over the rope and entered Gilley’s from the casino.

When I finally got inside, things finally mellowed out.

Guys in cowboy hats were standing around drinking beers, random tourists were warbling out karaoke tunes, and of course, a mechanical bull was tossing people around like ragdolls.  Strangely, there was also a lady inside with her child in-tow … cue Jeff Foxworthy “you might be a redneck” joke.

Inside Gilley's at TI

Anyway, I ordered a light beer, walked around, and took in the scenery.  I didn’t know what I was looking for in particular, but I will say this, watching people get tossed from a mechanical bull is a great way to make the time fly.

At one point, I pulled out my camera to record the action, and I captured one guy getting thrown feet-over-head into the side barrier:

That had to hurt.  At least a little bit.

I’ve ridden a mechanical bull once in my life, and that was in Mexico when I was far younger.  I was thrown several times, but I kept getting back on because I had no problem taking the abuse.  These days, however, at 41 years old, 6′3″ and 190lbs, I assume that being thrown from a bull in such a manner would be little more than suicide.  For both myself and the robobull.

After watching the bull riders get hammered, I turned my attention to the karaoke stage.

Now, I took this second video with my EVO, and I have to be brutally honest and concede a major point — The EVO video camera is almost useless indoors in dim light.  It’s not completely useless, but it’s pretty damn close.  The irony is that during the daytime, the EVO camcorder is remarkably good.  I would go so far as to call it excellent.

The difference between the camera at night and during the day, however, is like, uh … night and day.  It’s hard to believe that a great camera can go to complete shit simply by moving indoors.  Inexplicably, when the video goes to hell, the audio follows suit.  I’m not sure if the compression scheme is increased under stress or what, but it’s pretty bad.

That being said, I did the best I could to capture this guy doing a karaoke rendition of “Cowboy” by Kid Rock, but you are going to have to make judicious use of your imagination to hear the words:

I did find it admirable that the gentleman knew enough of the song to go off-script and sing “paint his wife white” and “my only words of wisdom are just suck my dick”.  Oddly enough, the guy didn’t seem all that familiar with the rest of the lyrics, but he shouted those two lines perfectly.  At least the man has priorities.

In general, Karaoke makes my ears bleed, but I’m warming up to it as I age.  You have to give props to people who get in front of an audience and belt out tunes when they are clearly aware that they cannot sing.  It’s for this reason that I have some respect for Ke$ha.

In any event, I spent a solid hour talking to some of the tourists at the bar, getting my drink on, and just generally enjoying the atmosphere.  I did not, however, ride the bull or sing to the crowd.  I eventually got a text message that my party had arrived, and my time in Gilley’s was up.  I grabbed a few more quick shots and headed into the abyss of Treasure Island on my way to the Mirage tram.

Even though it’s not a place that fits my personality perfectly, I can see myself using Gilley’s as a casual hangout more often in the coming years.  I’m not a huge fan of the faux-cowboy thing, but the pretense factor is low, douchebags are almost non-existent, and the waitresses were quite attractive and personable.  I give it a solid B+.

Gilley's Waitress

The genius urban planning in front of Treasure Island, however, receives a massive fail.

Since the Trop has been without an all-you-can eat venue for awhile, I was somewhat heartened to learn last week that their new Italian restaurant, Bacio, was instituting a new weekend “brunch” buffet.  Of course, I had to try it, and yesterday I did exactly that.

Bacio Brunch Buffet at the Tropicana

Bacio Brunch Buffet at the Tropicana

Bacio Brunch Buffet at the Tropicana

Bacio Brunch Buffet at the Tropicana

The new Bacio buffet is somewhat interesting from a logistical perspective.  You are seated inside, but in order to get your food, you have to go back out of the front entrance to the exterior of the restaurant .  Of course, this is the reverse of how most buffets operate.  It reminded me a little bit of wearing one’s clothes backward, like Kriss-Kross circa 1993.

Don’t even act like you weren’t down with the Migetty Migetty Migetty Migetty Mack Daddy.

Whatever happened to those guys?  Are they still alive?  I mean, one minute they’re everywhere, the next minute … anyway ….

Aside from the curious setup, the food itself was actually good.

Myself and my special date arrived for the breakfast portion of the “brunch”, which meant that all of the food was standard early-morning classics.  Eggs, waffles, bacon, sausage, croissants, muffins, fruit … what more could you ask for in breakfast food?  My personal favorite serving was the scrambled eggs with feta cheese and tomatoes.  I crushed some apple-cured bacon into the eggs, and I was good to go.  For “desert”, I downed mini-waffles with vanilla syrup.

Bacio Brunch Buffet at the Tropicana

For ten bucks, it was hard to go wrong.

As a serial “sampler” and the most impatient person on the face of the earth, I still prefer buffets to sit down restaurants where I have to get someone’s attention for every little request.  I like the DIY setup of high-quality buffets, and I always get more than my money’s worth.  Besides, buffets are a Vegas tradition.

Both my hostess and my waiter were extraordinarily nice, and the experience was positive.  Unlike the MGM, Excalibur, and Luxor buffets surrounding it, the Bacio buffet is a very small, quiet, intimate buffet.  It’s perhaps the smallest one that I have ever seen.  This is not a bad thing if you want to avoid the crowds, waits, and hassles of mega-buffets.  It’s good to have options, and Bacio is a solid one for a “first meal of the day” experience.

After getting my fill of breakfast food, I went downstairs to hang out by the pool for a little while.

By the time I got water-side, it was about 11am and 90 degrees, but the pool was not crowded at all.  This is not surprising given that it was the weird time slot after most people check out and before most people check in, and it gave me an opportunity to walk around and check everything out from all angles without wading through people.

Now, I don’t know if it is just me, but the “new” Trop pool does not look appreciably different from the “old” Trop pool.  The new one has a “cleaner” layout, but if anything, I might actually prefer the old version just slightly.  The older one was a bit more “tropical”.  You have to realize, however, that I have spent an entire decade … the last 10 summers … lounging by the Tropicana pool, and when I develop a familiar favorite, I tend to resent any change.  Hell, I taught one of my kids to swim at the Tropicana pool.  That’s how familiar the place was to me.

"Old" Tropicana Pool on May 23, 2009 - Swim-up Blackjack

"New" Tropicana Pool on June 20, 2010 - Swim-up Blackjack

"New" Tropicana Pool on June 20, 2010 - Swim-up Blackjack

"Old" Tropicana Pool on May 23, 2009

"New" Tropicana Pool on June 20, 2010

"New" Tropicana Pool on June 20, 2010

"Old" Tropicana Pool on May 23, 2009

"Old" Tropicana Pool on May 23, 2009

"New" Tropicana Pool on June 20, 2010

"Old" Tropicana Pool on May 23, 2009

"New" Tropicana Pool on June 20, 2010

"New" Tropicana Pool on June 20, 2010

"New" Tropicana Pool on June 20, 2010 - Poolside Bar

"New" Tropicana Pool on June 20, 2010

The biggest thing I miss from the “old” pool is the swim-thru waterfall.  I really enjoyed it.  Swimming through it, under it, behind it.  Where I’m from (which happens to not be a rainforest), there just weren’t many waterfalls, and this was a favorite feature of mine.

The “new” Tropicana pool is not bad by any stretch of the imagination (like I said, it’s not that different), but in my opinion … it wasn’t broken to begin with.  When something is already nearly perfect, making changes to it is probably not the greatest of ideas.  I guess pool parties are the wave of the future, though, and my guess is that the Trop pool is being scored to accommodate more of a beach club atmosphere than an alt.favorite tropical paradise.

Given that it’s the Trop, I may very well try the new “Nikki Beach Club” to see if I can get down with it.  I mean, I’m a jet-set hip and gorgeous person. Right?

I guess we’ll see.

As if it were not obvious, I’m really trying to go above and beyond to like the new and improved Tropicana.  My loyalty is theirs to lose.

The garden areas of the pool courtyard are looking very nice, but of course, there is also a great deal of construction going on at the Trop from front to back.  Nobody has found a way to invisibly remodel a property yet.

"New" Tropicana Pool on June 20, 2010 - Garden Area

"New" Tropicana Pool on June 20, 2010 - Garden Area

Tropicana Under Construction - June 20, 2010

Tropicana Under Construction - June 20, 2010

Now for a little bit of bad news.

In my quest to solidify my Tropicana vs. Golden Nugget decision, I decided to call the Trop this weekend to inquire about booking a room.  In particular, I wanted to ask about resort fees.  I didn’t think they had one, but I wanted to double check.  As it turns out, they do have one.  The fee is lower than most, but it is there.

The reservation agent informed me that a fee of $7.99 would be added to all room rates, and when I asked what the fee included, she informed me that it included use of the phone, fax machine, fitness center, pool, and “parking”.

This was a relief, because if there is one thing I am sick and tired of, it’s paying for parking in Strip hotels.

I later did some online research to make sure I heard her correctly, and I found the following on the site:

Incidental charges: Tropicana charges a $7.99 per room, per night resort fee, which covers the cost of access to gym, two free drinks on property, unlimited local and 800 calls and use of the pool and jacuzzi. Tropicana charges a $5.50 baggage handling fee for all group arrivals. The hotel requires a credit card or a cash deposit for incidental charges. The resort fee listed above does not include tax. Some resorts also apply room tax to their resort fee.

As you can see, there is no official mention of parking as an amenity, but the fee does exist, along with a baggage handling fee for “groups”, although the word “groups” is not defined.

After hanging up with the Trop reservation line, I called the Golden Nugget to inquire about resort fees, and was told there were none.

This is a very compelling deciding factor for yours truly.  It’s not that I cannot afford resort fees, it’s that I despise them on principal because they are dishonest and they prevent a direct comparison of room rates from one property to the next.  Properties should be able to compete based on their advertised rates, and resort fees are a cheap ploy where the fine print taketh away what the big print giveth.  Frankly, I’m not 100% convinced that these fees are legal in the method they are being applied.  They seem to blatantly violate unfair and deceptive trade practice laws.  They are legal landmines, and I’d like to see them challenged at some point.

In any event, I’m ready to book the Nug but I’m holding off for just a bit longer.  There is still plenty of time between now and August for someone to surprise or disappointment me.  It happens all the time.  As soon as I book the Nugget, they’ll announce some kind of “running water” fee for all new check-ins, and shortly afterward the Trop will announce topless french maid service beginning in late July.

If there is one thing I can guarantee, it’s that whatever you hold to be true about any given property will change when you least expect it.  Also, a new contender may arise between now and then.

Anyway, it was an overall nice Sunday at the Tropicana.

For the duration of my visit, not a single person asked me for a cigarette, spare change, nor did they solicit me to take a picture or buy club passes.  I almost got dinged by the escalators by what appeared to be time share drones, however.  They tried to stop me, but I just kept walking.

If the Trop can get rid of those guys, I can overlook the waterfall and call it even.

While I would absolutely describe this weekend as “very crowded” … it’s not quite as busy as I was expecting it to be.

Memorial Day Weekend Crowd on The Strip

Memorial Day Weekend Crowd on The Strip

Memorial Day Weekend Strip Traffic

Memorial Day Weekend Strip Traffic

Now, usually when I say this, somebody comes online screaming “What are you talking about?! I was there this weekend and it was soooooo crooowwwwwwdeeeeed!!!”  Everyone wants to think that they were here during the most epic weekend ever, and the prevailing wisdom seems to be that if I don’t declare it to be packed, I am dissing the numbers.

This is not the case.

Everything is relative, and I’ve seen this movie before.  Counting the years that I have visited and lived here, I would estimate that this is my eighth or ninth Memorial Day here in Las Vegas.  Of those, this weekend appears to fall somewhere in the middle.  I think the city met its visitation expectations and will profit handily, but for some reason I was expecting an absolute blowout due to the cheap rooms.  I figured that traffic would be wall-to-wall and that the sidewalks would be a stampede.  Instead, it’s just kind of a typical three day weekend.  This is neither good nor bad, it’s just an observation.

Of course, this weekend also saw the opening of the new Encore Beach Club, and while I didn’t walk by the Encore today, I did drop by the new pool on both Friday and Saturday.  While I think the hype surrounding the pool has been more than a little silly (let’s face it, it’s a slow news year), I will say this about the place — it’s really very nice.  I’m not convinced that it’s vastly superior to existing places like the Moorea Beach Club, but I am nowhere near a pool connoisseur.

Encore Beach Club

Even though it’s not my thing, I do respect what Steve Wynn has done.   Last year, the man looked across the street from Encore, saw two vacant lots, and said “this will not do”.  Instead of making his guests stare out their windows at the mistakes of others, Wynn spent a large amount of money to create an alternate scenescape out front.  He had the choice of doing nothing and complaining, or doing something.  He did something.  Whether or not you give a damn about yet another swimming pool, you simply have to respect his effort.  Not only that, but the place looks really nice from just about any angle and it improves the aesthetics of the entire block.

Anyway, as I walked around the Boulevard today, I found myself getting more annoyed than in years past.  From the perspective of a pedestrian, The Strip has just become a major pain in the ass for a few reasons.

First of all, just about every escalator in town is broken.  Escalator problems have plagued our city for several years, and this year is worse than ever.  While I generally subscribe to the “hey fatass, just climb the stairs” philosophy, my cracked ankle hurt like hell climbing up and down the metal staircases.  Also, since it was 90 degrees today, the constant climbing led to an intense aroma of human sweat near the entrance to every casino.  Americans are fat, walking a mile in intense heat while climbing up and down staircases is a workout, and most casinos are not equipped with showers.  This being the case, broken escalators affect all of us adversely.  Think about it.

The other irritant was … once I ascended the pedestrian bridge stairs, I was immediately greeted with a handful of people trying to sell me stuff.  This happens year-round, but the trend really picks up in the summer.  Whether the people are peddling bottled water, sunglasses, or a rapper trying to sell you his latest CD … it’s kind of annoying.  Especially the rappers.

Las Vegas Pedestrian Bridge

Look, I used to like rap.  I grew up with it back on the east coast when the genre was still in its infancy, and I knew many of the old schoolers that later made a name for themselves.  I had a couple of turntables and a Radio Shack mixer, and I could do a thing or two on the wheels of steel … even without assistance from a MacBook.  Because of this, I feel that I am qualified to make the following statement:

Rap is dead.

It died over 10 years ago.

Almost everything recorded since is pure shit.  Today’s rappers all sound like robots having a seizure.  There are no more Chuck Ds, Rakims, or KRS-Ones.  Hell, Ludicrous recently laid down a verse on a Justin Bieber song.  The entire generation is completely lost, and I would rather stay home and listen to my dog fart than endure whatever might be lurking on one of those CD’s.

I digress.

The weekend crowd seems to be in good spirits, but as I was pounding the Boulevard today, I became a little bit depressed.  I could suddenly see why people might want to pick a hotel and just stay in that property for their entire vacation.  Everything out on the street is broken, and it’s a nonstop hustle from one place to the next.  I used to have a good time on my frequent walks, but now … I just don’t seem to feel it like I used to.  Maybe things are deteriorating, or maybe they are the same and I’ve just been here one day too many.  It’s impossible to be completely objective when it comes to one’s own perceptions.

I still really enjoy walking up and down Fremont Street, so I don’t think I am 100% jaded, but I do feel like The Strip has lost its soul.  I am not happy about this.  Hopefully, at some point in the future, I will rediscover the magic.

In any event, Memorial Day has arrived and Camp Vegas is officially in session, so come on down and discover why ‘What Happens Here Stays Here’ and be sure to get wet in one of our many world-class pools while dancing the night away to the musical stylings of some of the nation’s hottest DJ’s.

Now that summer is upon us, it’s hot in Vegas, and I don’t mean the temperature.

Yay.

Of course, Monday just happened to be the most overcast, windy day we had experienced in several weeks, but such is the dark cloud that ostensibly hovers over my head.  It’s not that Jesus doesn’t love me, he’s just not big on public displays of affection when it comes to yours truly.

In any event, the “new and improved” Tropicana Pool has been open for much of this month, but as you can clearly see from the photographs, it is not yet finished.  At this point, the pool does not look all that different from the “old” pool.  Since I have always been a huge fan of the Tropicana swimming hole, this is certainly not a bad thing, but I guess I was expecting it to be completely redesigned.

Tropicana Pool

Tropicana Pool

Tropicana Pool

Tropicana Pool

Tropicana Pool

During the remake of the Trop, I’ve been somewhat hesitant of what to expect from the finished product.  I know the place is undergoing a facelift, but I wasn’t sure what type of clientele the property would begin aiming for.

Last week, I got some insight when The Tropicana issued the following press release:

Tropicana Las Vegas today announced a partnership with Nikki Beach, the world’s leading lifestyle entertainment group, to launch the city’s hottest destination: Nikki Beach at Tropicana Las Vegas.

Nikki Beach will bring the best of their South Beach, Marbella and St. Tropez inspired designs to Tropicana Las Vegas, enabling guests to party all day and all night in style, with a sizzling blend of haute cuisine, exotic cocktails and sexy entertainment. The new Las Vegas location will be the largest Nikki Beach property in the world, and will combine one of the most stylish brands in the world with one of the most legendary hotels on The Strip.

“The creation of Nikki Beach Las Vegas marks a new era in Tropicana Las Vegas’ history,” said Alex Yemenidjian, Chairman and CEO of Tropicana Las Vegas, Inc. “Together we will deliver a truly exceptional experience, joining two of the world’s most iconic brands in a way that has not been done before in this city.”

“After many years of looking into Las Vegas for expansion, we have finally found the right partnership”, said Nikki Beach owner Jack Penrod. “The Tropicana Las Vegas is the perfect location for our global brand. With exclusive beach clubs in the world’s hottest vacation spots, we are thrilled to bring Nikki Beach to Tropicana Las Vegas. Alex’s vision for the new Tropicana Las Vegas makes the perfect home for Nikki Beach, who as quoted by the London Observer, is ‘The Sexiest Place on Earth.’ But please, tell only your best friends.”

Now, when I read this, I didn’t know what to think.  It sounds kind of cool I suppose, but I don’t know who the “Nikki” people are, so I decided to do a quick search.  One of the first results to be returned was the group’s Miami property whose description reads as follows:

“Nikki Beach Miami, often called “Paradise on Earth,” is the first of 14 locations world-wide where jet-setters and hip people come to embellish their senses and taste buds, look around and see who is there and where they are going.

It is here that you will find a unique blend of gorgeous people from all parts of the globe sharing languid afternoons under the warmth of an eternal sun.”

Doh!

This doesn’t sound good.  Not good at all.

If ever there were a person who will not be welcomed at the new Tropicana pool, that person is I.

I don’t think you will find anyone on the planet who would describe me as either “hip” or “gorgeous”.  To the contrary, it is entirely possible that I am the ugliest loser in this town.  I stopped trying to fight it long ago.  Sometimes you just have to accept who you are and play the cards you were dealt.  I mean, look at Oscar Goodman.  Being hideous never stopped him, and I doubt he was one of the cool kids in high school when he was growing up in the 1870’s … yet he went on to become the state’s most famous alcoholic.

Sometimes 7-3 offsuit plays.

The new “Nikki Beach”, however, just does not sound like a place where I can work my mojo.

I find this very disappointing because I have been hanging out at the Tropicana pool every summer for the past 10 years, and it looks like I will be alienated from it very soon.

While it’s a real bummer on a personal level, I suppose I can’t really blame the Trop.  I mean, what else can they do?  Carry on with business as usual?

I guess that’s not really an option.  They have been catering to a very modest crowd for some time, and these folks just haven’t been bringing in the cash.  I’m not sure if trying to woo the “hip, jet-set” crowd will work (I’m actually quite skeptical), but it appears that this is the decision that the Trop has made.

While I understand why they want to target a more moneyed crowd, what I don’t understand, is why the Tropicana does not just run the show themselves.  I don’t really “get” the reason that all of the properties in Las Vegas feel compelled to hire outside party promoters.  I’ve seen the work of these companies, and so far, I’m not a huge fan.  Most of them seem like modern day P.T. Barnums who subscribe to the tenant that there is a sucker born every minute.  They promote these pools like carnival barkers promoted the elephant man.  It all seems kind of greedy and scammy.

Geez, now that I think about it, I understand exactly why casino owners are attracted to these guys.

Anyway, it looks like it will be the end of yet another era.  A personal Las Vegas alt-favorite will be converted to a “hip” place for gorgeous people, leaving me to once again mourn the loss of something in this town that I once enjoyed.

Now if you will excuse me, I am going to go have a good cry standing in front of a mirror while listening to “Beautiful” by Christina Aguirella.

Words can’t bring me down.

At least that’s what I like to tell myself.

For the last week or so, I have focused my attention on the area between Flamingo Rd. and Harmon Ave., and from my own perspective … I think this area is now the very best that the Las Vegas Strip has to offer.  At this point, I might go so far as to say that this half mile stretch of road is the Las Vegas Strip.  At least from a visual standpoint.

I think it is fair to say that the Las Vegas Strip is in a rut.  In the last decade, The Strip has not grown, but rather it has shrunk, and the remaining properties seem to have little enthusiasm for the gaudy neon that most people typically equate with “The Fabulous Las Vegas Strip”.

With one exception.

Love it or hate it Planet Hollywood is now the most aesthetically interesting property on The Boulevard.  At least in my opinion.  It’s really the only place left on LVB that still grabs my eyeballs and demands attention.

Planet Hollywood Las Vegas

Planet Hollywood Las Vegas

Planet Hollywood Las Vegas

The person or people who designed the exterior of Planet Hollywood were obviously on copious amounts of mind-altering substances.  It’s the motherlode of illuminated attention deficit disorder.  In theory, the place is a freaking trainwreck.  I mean, what is with the bubble-wrap on the outside shaped to look like a horizontal ocean wave?  What in the hell does that have to do with “Hollywood”?

While Planet Hollywood has always been a property that I feel may have been designed by a group of three-year-olds with some finger-paints and a Light Bright, at this point, it is the property which looks most like the goddamn Las Vegas Strip.

My appreciation for Planet Hollywood’s contribution to The Boulevard has really increased while I have scrolled through the thousands of photos that I have taken this year.  I have come to realize that most other properties look rather staid and boring in comparison.  Especially the newer ones.  Of particular note is the striking difference between Planet Hollywood and its neighbor across the street … City Center.  City Center is not “ugly” by any stretch of the imagination, it’s just “geographically inappropriate”.  It’s too dim from street level.  There are no lights on the outside trying to get people to come in, and I think this is part of its failure.  I think most tourists want light.  I think they want to admire a property from the outside before going inside.

Las Vegas City Center

Las Vegas City Center

If you weren’t aware that there were massive towers a block past the lackluster City Center street facade, you might assume that it was yet another vacant hole.  At best, it looks like the frontage to a shopping mall, or maybe the outskirts of an office park after the workers have gone home.

All the new mega-properties of the past 10 years have had more or less the same goal.  They have tried to be classy.  They have tried to be elegant.  To a large extent, they have succeeded … with the exception of the horrible, unfinished tower in front of the Venetian.

That being said, of the two distinct looks offered by the architects of the past decade, I still greatly prefer the busy, gaudy, obnoxious look of Planet Hollywood’s “neon diarrhea”.

While reviewing my images, it has also once again hit me just how important the New Frontier and the Stardust were to the big picture of the Boulevard.  They really provided a necessary continuity that bridged the psychological barrier between the Mid-Strip and the North-Strip.  Hell, I would go so far as to say that, up until the point that it was demolished, the Stardust may have been the most visually iconic property on The Boulevard.

While picking through photos, and comparing and contrasting with those of just a few years ago, part of me weeps for what has become of the Las Vegas Strip.  A “strip” implies an uninterrupted stretch of something.  We no longer have one.  Las Vegas Boulevard is now punctuated by large neon gaps, vacant lots, dimly-lit billion dollar resorts, and huge moments to failure.

The new properties, while nice in and of themselves, don’t really contribute much to the soul of the Strip.  Rather, they seem standoffish and pretentious.

Planet Hollywood was the only property conceptualized in the 21st Century to carry on the neon diarrhea tradition, and for this reason, I have to declare it my personal favorite at this point in time.

I just wish it wasn’t another f***ing Harrah’s establishment.

While there have always been copious amounts of panhandlers, bums, and “can you spare some change so I can buy baby formula” scammers in this town, in the past several months, the numbers of these groups have really picked up.

Allow me to give you an example.

About an hour ago, as I was arriving home, a man dressed in a city worker’s uniform greeted me at my driveway.  I rolled down my window to see what he wanted, and he said “Hello, I am with the Las Vegas Safety Department and I am here to repaint your house number on the curb.  It’s almost worn off and it needs to be visible in case of emergency”.

“Alright, whatever”, I said, and I began rolling up my window.

Before it reached the top, the man shouted out “Will that be cash or check?”

“What in the hell are you talking about?”, I replied.

“The service costs $40″, he said, “will that be cash or check?”

“I thought you said you were with the city?”, I asked.

“I am with the Las Vegas Safety Department.  We contract with the city”, he replied.

“Let me see your business license”, I said.

(blank stare)

I looked at the man, and in the most calm voice I could manage at the time, I said “Get away from my home and if I see you on my property again I will ass rape you for my own personal amusement”.  What can I tell you, sometimes I am in the mood for bullshit, and sometimes I’m very strongly not.  This day falls into the latter category.  The man mumbled some threats under his breath and sulked off.

I figure that he will either take me off his scam list, or he will come back later tonight and blow my head off.  The way my day has been going, I’m really not sure that I have a preference one way or the other.  Part of me actually hopes he comes back.  He had a nice ass.

Anyway, this little incident was only the latest in a string of weirdness this year.  Between people accosting me while I am filling up my gas tank, people giving me stories when I am walking into a 7-11 (apparently, I am supposed to give people $1 when they open convenience store doors for me), people coming up to my car at stoplights with hard luck signs, people standing on the corner saying “God bless you” to all passersby, or panhandlers in general … the numbers this year are just overwhelming.

It’s hard to say just how much the beggars/scammers have increased, but I don’t think I am exaggerating by estimating there are twice as many this year as there were last year, if not three times as many.  At least this is the case in Rexville.  I don’t think there are any people left in Summerlin, so begging there may be moot.  Hell, with home equity and debt-load taken into account, Rexville may now be the wealthiest neighborhood in Nevada.

While the number of panhandlers on The Strip have also noticeably increased this year, so too has another curious group:

Posers.

Actually, I’m not sure what they are called, but here is the gist — random folks dressed up like celebrities or anything recognizeable, ensnare passing tourists to pose for pictures with them, and then extract a tip.

You’ve no doubt seen these people on Hollywood Boulevard in front of Mann’s Chinese Theater, but it seems as though lately, someone opened the floodgates and every last one of them has moved here.  Be they Superman, The Las Vegas Sign, Marilyn Monroe, or generic characters such as Playboy Bunnies, it appears that posing is an absolutely booming business on the Boulevard.  It’s literally all the rage.  You can’t walk two blocks anymore without a faux-Elvis or faux-Jim Belushi trying to coax you into posing with him for a couple of bucks.

Money for Photos - People Dressed up on The Las Vegas Strip

Money for Photos - People Dressed up on The Las Vegas Strip

Money for Photos - People Dressed up on The Las Vegas Strip

Money for Photos - People Dressed up on The Las Vegas Strip

Money for Photos - People Dressed up on The Las Vegas Strip

Now, while I never try to knock a working man’s hustle, I do feel that I am entitled to express my opinion, and that opinion is:

This is getting annoying as hell.  There is a point at which something is pushed too far, and I believe that point has officially been reached.  The hassle factor on the Boulevard has just gotten too high, and no self-respecting tourist should be expected to endure it anymore.

Seriously, the porn slappers were bad enough.  The guys hawking club passes made it worse.  The timeshare drones made the situation almost intolerable.  Now this?

For Christ’s sake, the line between Las Vegas and Tijuana gets a little more narrow every day.  At some point, enough has got to be enough.  Taken as individual groups, none of the above scammers are offensive in and of themselves, but in 2010, there are just too many people crowding Strip sidewalks and casino entrances, hustling tourists who just came here to have a good time.  Most visitors from Wisconsin do not come here to fend off a thousand scammers a day.  Deep down, we all know this.

People verbally crap on Fremont Street all the time, and these scams happen to a certain extent there as well, but believe me when I tell you this:

The Strip is now much worse when it comes to street hustlers, and it seems as if more and more are arriving every day.

It pains me to say this, but as things stand right now, I don’t know that I could in good conscious recommend the Las Vegas Strip as a worthy tourist destination right now.  It’s all gotten to be too much.  Just too goddamn much.  I can still recommend Downtown without too much reservation, but The Strip … just damn.

Money for Photos and Porn Slappers

Porn Slapper

Walking from one property to another has become a gauntlet, and you have to fight off one person after another vying for your attention and money … and once you walk through the casino door, it’s not much better … “Good evening Sir, how long are you going to be in Vegas?  Would you like to see a show?”.

Please, for the love of God.  Shut up!  All of you!  Just shut up!

No, I do not want a girl direct to me.  No, I don’t want cheap passes to a nightclub.  No, I don’t have spare change.  No, the kid is not my son.  No, I haven’t found Jesus.  No, I don’t want $3 off a monorail ticket.  No, I don’t want a free ride to a strip club.  No, I don’t want free show tickets.  No, I don’t want to converse with you about my plans for the weekend.  No, I don’t want to waste 4 hours of my trip to see your swell vacation home.  No, I do not want to take a picture with you.  No.  Whatever you are about to say to me … the answer is no.

Religious Sign People on The Las Vegas Strip

Money for Photos and Porn Slappers

You know what I want?  What I really really want?

I’ll tell you what I want, what I really really want.

I want you to leave me the FUCK ALONE!

While this is a task that I will never perform for an able-bodied person, it just so happened that I had two friends staying in NYNY last week, and one of them was on crutches.

Apparently, there is nothing like disability to give one a bit of perspective, because on the way to McCarran, both of these Strip-snobs declared that their next visit to Vegas would be spent on Fremont Street.  According to these two, they had an epiphany on this trip.  They had come to the conclusion that “everything on The Strip is too far away”, and they no longer wanted to feel like a “captive audience in a group of hotels owned by the same people”.

See … they all come around.  Eventually.

After dropping these folks off and assuring them that they had not inconvenienced me (I believe my exact words were “next time you need something, feel free to ask someone else”), I began driving back toward “Sin City” when I decided to stop off at the MGM Grand.

I really don’t know why I chose the MGM.  I was in an irritated, shitty mood, and it was just the first place that came to mind.  Probably because it did not involve crossing Las Vegas Boulevard again.  Also, since it was a Friday afternoon, I assumed that there was some fresh “Vegas Baby!” calidouche money waiting for me, and I figured that I would take a crack at it.

After checking in with the podium and getting into a game, I realized that playing poker was the last thing I wanted to do.  The table wasn’t bad, and it looked like a couple of guys were good for a payoff if decent cards materialized, but sometimes I just can’t coax myself into giving a damn.

For instance, twice I won a fair amount of money by betting opponents out of hands post-flop, and on one hand I lost a sizable amount on the turn against a loose player who pushed in pre-flop.  I really didn’t feel anything in either situation.  I experienced no pleasure on the wins, and no frustration on the losses.

For some reason, on Friday, I was completely bored with both scenarios.  One was the same as the other on this night, and I just felt that I was killing time for no reason in particular.  When you don’t care if you win or lose a hand, it’s time to walk.

Or maybe not.

I can see how indifference to emotion could be profitable since it enables you to play the odds with neither fear nor excitement, thus giving your opponent nothing to read, but I need at least a small amount of adrenaline to keep me focused.

At this point, part of me felt compelled to go sit in my car in the dimly-lit MGM self park, blast a Nine Inch Nails CD, and jab myself with sharp objects to see if I could still feel.  I wanted to focus on the pain.  The only thing that’s real.  The needle would tear a hol … you get the idea.

Instead of shooting dope in the neon shadow of the world famous Las Vegas Strip, however, I decided to do the next best thing.

Play Sigma Derby.

MGM Grand - Sigma Derby

Sigma Derby is a game that can bring me out of a funk like no other, and I’m really not sure why this is.  The premise of the game … betting on mechanical horses … is stupid to the point of being intellectually insulting.  If ever there were a game built expressly for retarded people, that game is Sigma Derby.  I suppose the fact that I find the game highly-addictive says all kinds of negative things about me, but it is what it is.

Not only is the Derby bad from an IQ standpoint, but the thing is also a tremendous money pit.  I can’t remember the last time I have actually won money while playing Sigma Derby.  Sure, I win races here and there, but I usually walk away from the game empty-handed.  Come to think of it, I hardly ever see anyone walk away from this machine with money.  Sigma Derby is one of those games where you set your bankroll, and play until you lose it all.  Perhaps this is why the MGM Grand keeps it around.

I once read on a website called “The Wizard of Odds” that the house edge on the MGM Sigma Derby machine is 12%, although I have no idea how they could come to this conclusion.  The same site also carries odds for the Sigma Derby at the New Frontier, so I’m not sure how current the information is, but I guess it’s at least a rough estimate.  Now that the MGM has no competition for its Derby machine, I suppose they could have tweaked the payouts further in their favor.

In any event, despite the disadvantageous nature of the game, I set my Sigma Derby bankroll at $20, and began playing.

In about 10 minutes, it was all over, and I felt very unsatisfied.  Now I know how your girlfriend feels.

MGM Grand - Sigma Derby

Seriously, I lost my bankroll very quickly because I can usually spread bets enough to keep me playing for at least 1/2 hour, but I was trying to get a gambling fix on this night by only betting longshot quinellas and the favorites were hitting damn near every time.  Yes, I know that is why they are called “favorites”, but only members of the proletariat make such uninspired bets.  I mean, I was way more hip and creative than the other people sitting around the table screaming at the pretend horses.  I’m clever.  I’m creative.  I think different.  For Christ’s sake, I use a Mac.  Validate me, oh won’t somebody out there please VALIDATE ME!!!

Forgive me, I got caught up in the hype for a moment.

Anyway, having burned through my Sigma Derby stash, I pathetically yanked another $20 out of my man purse, and proceeded to lose that as well.  Granted, this time I made it last a solid half hour by playing more conservatively, but I lost it nonetheless.

After I played through my final quarter, I felt quite pathetic.  It was kind of odd.  I played the game to cheer myself up, but I actually felt much worse after playing than I had before I started.

If I had to explain it, I would liken it to the feeling you get a minute before you start masturbating, and compare it to the feeling you get immediately after you finish.

Slapping your monkey always seems like a great idea before you start doing it.  The thought usually begins creeping into your head when you get a K-Mart ad magazine in your mailbox, you flip through it, spot a homely swimsuit model on page 8, and think “Hey, hocking a quick weiner loogie would be just the thing to cheer me up!”  You convince yourself that it’s going to be great fun, and you can’t wait to get started.  Hell, you are so determine by this point that nobody could possibly talk you out of it.

You grab a box of tissues, go to work for 45 seconds, and then … everything feels different.  What seemed like a great idea mere minutes before, now seems like the actions of a complete loser.  You look down at the glossy mailer spread out in front of you, and you think … “Ewwww.  I can’t believe I just did that.  What in the hell is wrong with me?”

Well, let me tell you, blowing $40 on Sigma Derby feels very similar.

After wasting forty bucks on the goofy game, I thought about hitting the MGM Grand Buffet to soothe my sorrows, but I really wasn’t in an eating mood either.  This being the case, I took a couple of photos of the MGM’s cool new self service buffet payment system, then headed back for the long, frustrating drive north on Koval.  I thought about taking the Monorail, but since I didn’t have any locals passes with me, and it was after 6pm (when the customer service booths close), it would have cost me five dollars, and only an idiot would spend $5 to ride the monorail.

MGM Grand Buffet - Self Service Payment

Overall, it was a rather lackluster night.

Sometimes, when you are in a bad mood, you just have to embrace it instead of trying to chase it away … and when such a mood strikes, the last place in the world you should be is in a casino.  It simply can’t end well.

Even though I did not lose much, that lesson was reinforced upon me last night.

Now if you will excuse me, I have some shopping to do.

My Nintendo Wii controllers ran out of juice a few days ago, and in addition to swimwear, K-Mart currently has a special on AA batteries.

Don’t ask me how I know.

About 15 people from my site are coming into Vegas this weekend, and they are contemplating making the Tropicana one of their stops.  As such, I decided to see how things were coming along.

After looking around the Trop for a bit, the answer to my question was: very quickly.

The crotch port is still under construction, as is the area at the end of the Tropicana Ave pedestrian bridge, but the gaming pit is looking pretty nice.  It’s certainly a huge change from just a couple of weeks ago when I last visited. The pit has higher ceilings, it’s quite bright, and the feel of the place is now a little more “upscale”.

Tropicana Hotel and Casino Sign at Entrance

Tropicana Hotel and Casino

Tropicana Hotel and Casino Crotch Port

Tropicana Hotel and Casino Pedestrian Bridge

Tropicana Casino Gaming Pit

Tropicana Casino Gaming Pit

Tropicana Casino

Tropicana Hotel and Casino Entrance

Tropicana Hotel and Casino Entrance

Of course, since the remodel is not yet finished, it’s a bit premature to render a judgement … but the old joint is definitely looking more fresh.  I’m looking forward to seeing where they are in another month or two.

Now, last week marks the first time in recent memory that any of my group members have discussed hanging out at the Trop, and I found this slightly fascinating.

Apparently, there is an interesting bit of a “buzz” developing around the Tropicana, and with the marketing push behind it — I would go so far as to say that it’s *almost* no longer uncool to stay and play here.  To be honest, I have decidedly mixed feelings about this.

You see, I’ve began staying at the Trop in the late 90’s, and I’ve declared my loyalty to the place ever since.  Much like the Sahara, and Strat, it’s always been a sleeper favorite of mine, and I’ve never had any trepidation about broadcasting this to the world.  Simply put, I liked the Tropicana long before it was cool to like the Tropicana.

Now that the Trop has a new Twitter account (as was conveyed to me by a site member) and they are pushing a new “South Beach Miami” theme, people are coming out of the woodwork like they were down with the Tropicana all along … when the reality is … damn near every scenester on the planet was calling for the place to be imploded for the entirety of the 2000’s.

Look, I’m not naive, and I am 100% aware that Las Vegas is a phony place full of fair-weather, glad-handing, “what have you done for me lately” people, but when all is said and done, I hope the Tropicana doesn’t start buying into its own PR.  If the property gets too hipster, I’ll be very disappointed.

Don’t get me wrong, I want to see the place thrive, and every dollar is as green as the next, but hipsters are a fickle group.  They are neither stable nor consistent clientele.  As soon as this demographic sticks a finger in the air and detects a change in the wind direction, the Trop will once again eat at a table by itself in the high school cafeteria.

Once it has lost enough weight, learned the right catchphrases, and applied enough makeup to become a cheerleader — hopefully the Trop doesn’t forget the band nerds who were the only kids in school that didn’t talk shit behind their back … even when they had bad skin and listened to Menudo.

From the groundswell of interest that has been conveyed to me so far, I predict this to be a banner year for the Tropicana with a new slew of pretendsters who are suddenly hip to the property, but if management uses solid and sound judgement, this will also be a perfect opportunity for the Tropicana to build up a new crop of loyal clientele that will carry them even further into old age.

I also hope the Tropicana does not try to cover its history by trying to pretend to be too young.

Have you ever encountered 60 year olds who desperately fight their age by trying their damnest to keep up with hip lingo which was obviously not from their generation?  They use words like “peeps” and they clumsily try to keep up with the latest trends, but it’s always painful to watch because it’s just not believable.  These very same folks tend to alienate both older and younger people because neither group is able to relate to them.

Well, I don’t want to see this happen to the Trop.

This property is 54 years old, which is ancient in Las Vegas terms, but as long as they embrace that age instead of fight it … the Trop will have a lot to offer visitors for years to come.

To me the Tropicana has always symbolized a level of maturity and wisdom in a sea of corporate sameness.  It has a “been there, done that” credibility that other properties simply do not have.

I’m very, very glad that the Tropicana is getting a clean shave and a haircut, but you can still have an upgrade and remain dignified.  I don’t think “Planet Hollywood II” or “Hard Rock South” is a good idea, and hopefully this new “beach” thing that the Tropicana is designing will be carried out in a less-than-doucheful way.

In retrospect, it really would have helped had they found a way to keep Folies Bergere, and the Tropicana would be the perfect place to resurrect such a show in the future.

Until that time, I hope the Tropicana is able to make its way into the future without forgetting its roots.

Speaking of … I’ve been meaning to see Wayne Newton at the Trop in the near future.

Seriously.

I saw him many years ago at the Stardust, and while I won’t pretend to have a pile of his records laying around, I thoroughly enjoyed his show.

Now that the Stardust is gone, the Tropicana is one of our last bastions of nostalgia, and I can’t think of a better place to once again see “Mr. Las Vegas”.  Sometime within the next few weeks, I’m going to pull up the entertainment schedule and see what they have available for Wayne’s gig.

It’s time to kick it old school.

I live only a short walking distance from an ACE stop, and so far I have used this new transit option numerous times to quickly shuttle me back and forth between The Strip and Downtown.  While the ACE looks kind of silly, it’s more or less door-to-door service in the world’s longest limo for yours truly.  Compared to the Monorail, it’s fairly cheap too, and it actually … you know … goes places.

Although a 24 hour pass for $7 probably would have saved me money over the weeks, I usually just purchase a $3 ticket that’s good for two hours since I use so many different ways to get around.

My own private car, the private cars of others, the Monorail, cabs, buses, a bicycle, my own two feet … I use every people-moving method this town has to offer, and more often than not, my mode of transit is a spontaneous choice.  Because of this, I don’t like the commitment of a multi-ride pass.

For instance, yesterday, I took the ACE Bus from Rexville to the Mandalay Mile, hung out at the Excalibur and Luxor, crossed over to the MGM Grand, and came home via the Monorail because I was in a hurry.

Ironically, on the way back home, the Monorail broke down in the Convention Center station and I was forced to get off.

For the 99.9% of people who have never ridden the Vegas rail system, believe me when I tell you that there is no worse station at which to be stranded than the Convention Center on a Saturday while no actual conventions are taking place.  It’s a ghost town for a quarter mile in any given direction.  Fortunately, I got a ride within a few minutes, but were I a tourist paying $5 each way, I would have been pretty pissed off to be dumped in no-mans land without a refund.

Convention Center Monorail Station

Of course, the ACE is of little value on crowded weekends, but Monday through Friday, and when visitorship is fairly thin, it can work.  It’s especially useful between Fashion Show Mall and the Premium Outlets.

Interestingly, the first time I ever really heard the ACE Bus was when I played this video back.  When I am on mass transit, I have omnipresent earphones so that I don’t have to interact with the people around me.

One exception was made yesterday when a man and woman got on the bus with bouquets of white flowers.  I hit “pause” just in time to find out that they had just gotten married, and were taking the trainbus back to their hotel.  That’s either extremely cheap, or extremely cool … depending on who you ask.

In addition to doing some selective eavesdropping, I also recorded the entirety of my uneventful commute.

I thought about speeding the video up considerably, but there are probably one or two Vegas geeks out there who want the “real” experience, and let’s face it … in order to watch a ten minute video of a bus ride … you need to be a Vegas dork extraordinaire.

If you fit the above description, well, come along and take an ACE Bus ride from Rexville to the Excalibur Tram Station.  The full trip actually took a total of 12 minutes, but I cut out stoplights and moments when the vehicle was stuck in traffic.  That being said — about 90% of the footage is what it is.  A virtual ACE ride.  This is more or less what it looks like each time I get on the mean machine.

God Bless the Internet.

Now, people can ride the bus from the comfort of their own home while keeping their self-esteem intact.

What can I say, much like Jesus, I suffer for your sins.

You’re welcome.

The first 90-degree weekend (or close to it), and the first reality check that the hellish Vegas Summer is only a few weeks away.

While this realization stresses me, I am consoling myself with the following fact:  In only 5 short months, it’s once again going to be October.  If I can make it through the next 150 days, then I will have a solid 180 days as a reward (October through March in Vegas is really quite livable).

Since I have a few people staying on the “Mandalay Mile” (the string of continuous MGM/Mirage properties south of Tropicana Ave.) this weekend, I have made the trip back and forth to this area a couple of times already, and I will make the trip at least once more before the weekend is over.

Now, every cloud has its silver lining, and in Las Vegas, the silver lining to oppressive heat is … what else … women in bikinis.

At least it used to be.

Given that this was the first *real* pool weekend of 2010, after getting off the ACE yesterday, I decided to drop by the Luxor pool to check out the early action.  What I discovered was shocking, mortifying, and dare I say it … terrorizing.

For every female at the pool yesterday, there were five males.  And I am probably being conservative.

Luxor Las Vegas Pool

Luxor Las Vegas Pool

Luxor Las Vegas Pool

Vegas began its decent into lumber yarddom somewhere around 2005, and it looks as if the trend will continue unabated.  Dickfest 2010 is in full swing, and it looks like we are going to break another ratio record.  I won’t even get started on the number of Fedora hats I spotted in the crowd.  Suffice to say, It’s going to be a douchetastic Summer here in Las Vegas.  Consider yourself warned.

You know, I say a lot of things in a tongue-in-cheek manner, but I honestly do think this may become a problem.  I personally know some upper-limit gamers that are kind of getting turned off to the “frat house” vibe of the Vegas summer scene, and this is effecting both the amount of time they spend here, and the amount of money they put on the table.

I don’t make the rules, I just observe them, but this is a forumla that I believe to be accurate:

A = Men bring more money to Vegas than do women
B = Men are happier in the company of attractive women
C = Men part with more money in the company of attractive women
D = Men are likely to return to places with high ratios of attractive women
X = Las Vegas has a high ratio of attractive women to men
Z = Las Vegas experiences large revenue increases

My hypothesis is that since A, B, C, and D are TRUE, X must also be TRUE in order for Z to be TRUE;

Currently, X = FALSE;

To be more specific, X = VERY VERY VERY VERY VERY VERY FALSE; We’re talking Las Vegas meteorologist false.

On some level, I honestly do think that Z = X;

I’ve been explaining this theory for years, but to date, nobody has heeded my call.  Instead, glossy ads for “adult” pools are once again making the rounds, which means that more and more rubes are going to be lured into disappointment.

Among my own little circle of friends, these ads (especially the glossy ones) are collected as a spoof.  Kind of like collecting posters for bad B-movies such as “Cheerleader Massacre”.  I know one guy who hangs them on his wall just to get laughs.  I don’t know if the pool promoters realize the little cult following these glossy softcore-porn ads have, but the hipsterdouches would probably appreciate the irony.

Las Vegas Adult Pool Ad

The problem is, Joe Regularguy from northern Kentucky isn’t hip to the ruse.  He’s going to spend his entire day sitting poolside waiting for the lesbo show to start, and when it doesn’t happen, well — there goes our image again.  Sure, Randy Snow will try to bring him back with one of his slick $70 million “What Happens Here” commercials, but how many times is Joe going to fall for it?

There’s a sucker born every minute, but it takes 21 years until they’re allowed to gamble.  We can’t keep fooling the same people over and over.  There is a limit to their gullibility.  We’ve got the marketing aspect of the town perfected, but eventually … we’re going to have to start delivering on the promises.

I digress.

The only other real observation I have to make about the first “summer-like” weekend of 2010 is that the crowd is a bit thinner in numbers than I expected it to be.  After the absolute burst of people we had circa-St. Patrick’s Day, and after the grand traffic jams of last weekend, I thought news of 80+ degree weather in Vegas would have translated into throngs this weekend.

The Las Vegas Strip

That has not materialized.  It’s not empty, but traffic is free-flow, and the casino floors have simply average levels of saturation.  Not bad, but maybe a little underwhelming.

Now if you will excuse me, I am off to hop the ACE bus back to the Mandalay Mile.  There currently sits a poker table with my name on it.

In other words, I’m off to sit in a room full of dudes.

This is getting depressing.