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I was at Planet Aladdinwood last night to meet with some folks, and we hung out at the Heart Bar for a couple of hours or so. When the drinks had been consumed, I went up to check out the room of a friend of  mine, and it was pretty nice. It had a good view of the Bellagio Fountains, and had views of the City Center and Cosmopolitan construction sites.

The casino was far from packed, but for a Thursday night, there was enough action to put some money in the coffers.

Afterward, I hit the Mandalay Bay and MGM.

One thing that I noticed about the casinos last night was the unusually large amount of people wearing cowboy hats. I never understood the concept of a “cowboy hat” … but it appeared to be making quite the fashion comeback.

I was a little baffled by all the Garth Brooks and Toby Keith impersonators, but hey … whatever whacks your willy. I didn’t really think very deeply about it.

After conducting my business, I headed back toward the east side.

When I got to Harmon and Paradise, I smelled something. And by “something”, I mean “shit”.

If shit is happening in this town, I usually try to check it out. It’s usually just not this literal.

So I followed my nose. When I got to Swenson, the smell was almost unbearable. I gagged several times, and thought I was going to lose my dinner.

I am not exaggerating the smell. I cannot understate the horror of it. It was the most awful thing that has ever passed my olfactory glands. It was the 9/11 of nostrils.

This is coming from a guy who has actually been in a Taco Bell bathroom. I’ve ridden the NYC subway when it was 100 degrees and humid. I know the putrid smell of urine, dead rats, and people who haven’t bathed in three years … all on the same train.

Last night, I would have welcomed that smell with open arms.

If someone asked me what I thought Hell smelled like, I would direct them to the intersection of Harmon and Swenson. Only the devil himself could have concocted an odor so horrific.

Still … I had to get to the bottom of it, so I continued along the small stretch of road past Swenson, and ran into some kind of “horse town”. There were horses, gates, tents, and horse crap everywhere.

There was also a lot of security.

Horse shit gets its own security detail in Vegas now? Really?

Were they afraid that someone was going to break in, steal the steaming piles, and sell it on Ebay?

Perhaps the Federal Reserve had finally decided to back the U.S. Dollar with something tangible, and horse shit was the only thing that reasonably represented our currency’s value on the international markets?

I decided to park the car on the side of the road and find out.

I walked toward the security guard at one of the gates, and he looked at me warily. Kind of like the Secret Service would look at you if you approached the President.

He said “May I help you?” and I said “Yes, can you tell me what is going on, and what that hideous smell is?”

At this point he dropped the stern look and chuckled.

“This is where the rodeo keeps the horses”, he said.

Ahhhhhhhh.

I had completely forgotten about the National Finals Rodeo.

It also explained all the cowboy hats in the casinos.

The NFR comes through town this time every year, and is a huge event for cowpeople.

Back when the economy was good, each property used to do something a little fun when the NFR was in town. My personal favorite was the assless chap wearing girls shining shoes at the Las Vegas Hilton.

This year, however, there doesn’t seem to be nearly as much advertising for the event.

I have seen very few promotions about the NFR this year, and very few attractions on The Strip.

While holding my nose, I chatted with the guard a bit. He assured me that the rodeo itself was completely full and sold out … but he agreed that there was noticeably less fanfare this year.

He went on to tell me that all of the actual rodeo events are being held at the Thomas & Mack Center, and what I had stumbled upon was indeed the “horse town”. People stable, groom, and feed their horses in a small shanty town just west of the arena, and while the tents themselves are uninteresting, the sheer size of Horsetown is an absolute sight. It’s frigging huge.

I asked him how he tolerated the smell, and he assured me that it was something that people got used to. I begged to disagree, and told him that there was no way in hell that I could ever get used to that, and he just laughed at me like I was some kind of greenhorn. I actually felt like that little peckerhead Billy Crystal in the movie “City Slickers”.

I asked the guy if I could go in and take a look around, but he told me that the area was actually very high security and that he wasn’t permitted to do so.  Apparently people really do try to get in there to steal equipment, and possibly tamper with the horses, so they really do keep the area on lockdown to “outsiders”.

Of course, this didn’t stop me from trying to negotiate.

I explained to the guard that I grew up in the inner city on the East Coast, and he actually seemed to take pity on me for that fact.

Me: Can I at least take a picture of a horse?
Guard: You want to take a picture of a horse?
Me: Well, yeah.
Guard: Why? Ain’t you never seen a horse before?
Me: I’ve seen one, but I don’t have a picture of one.
Guard: Okay, well, there are some horses right there, you can take pictures of them.
Me: Can I ride one too and get some clowns to come out and run around it?
Guard: (chuckled) No, I can’t help you there partner.

Cool. He called me “partner”. For the first time in my life, I felt like I had ranch-cred. I felt like getting a mouthful of Skoal, putting on a hat and boots, and roughing up some Democrats.

I don’t think I could have pulled it off, though.

Before I being accepted into the fold, I’m pretty sure I’d have to pass some kind of initiation which entailed learning the “Achy Breaky” or some other form of line dancing, and my body just doesn’t work that way.

I had to accept the harsh reality that I will always be an outsider to this particular group of people … and quite frankly, I could never get used to that smell.

So, I took my pictures of a couple of horses, wished John Wayne well, and took the long, smelly walk back to where we left the car.

As we were driving away, I realized that I could smell the place from a solid mile away.

What in the hell do they feed those horses anyway?

The Imperial Palace Buffet?

Anyway, the Rodeo is in town. The biggest rodeo of them all. The National Finals Rodeo. It will be here from December 3rd through December 13th.

There are also a large number of country music concerts going on around town for the duration of the event.

If you are going to be hanging out in Las Vegas this week and next week, you are going to see a lot of cowboy hats, and a lot of people who look like they will kick your ass if they spot you wearing a “New York Jets” sweatshirt.

Unless you love America, and I mean really, really love America, and unless you can recite from memory the starting lineup of the Dallas Cowboys from the last 30 years, you may want to reschedule your trip.

Don’t say that I didn’t warn you.

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