We took a quick drive across the desert to Las Vegas last week. I have mixed feelings about Vegas. It’s clearly an example of everything that’s wrong with American society and capitalism run amuck but at the same time it provides an endless supply of weird sites and sounds that I just can’t resist. It’s like a Freakshow Bootcamp. In just 48 hours you’re exposed to enough bizarre behavior to last several years.
We arrived around 8PM, checked into the hotel and rested for an hour or so before venturing out for food. After dinner we wandered around the strip checking out the casinos and parade of people. The drive left me a little weary so we decided to call it a night around midnight and headed back to the room. I watched a show about Area 51 on TV and fell asleep.
At 6 AM I was awakened by the sound of a very loud, whiney female voice that sounded like it was coming from the hallway. It turned out that it wasn’t the hallway, but the room right next to ours. The women was carrying on a conversation at a volume level just slightly below that of a Mastadon concert. We could hear every single thing she said. At first I assumed that she was just drunk and would soon pass out in a stupor thus ending the sunrise performance.
I was wrong. For a while I was able to slip in and out of sleep, only to wake up to hear the conversation in mid stride. The broad just wouldn’t shut up. At one point I remember saying “Just stick something in her mouth to shut her up.” You could hear a male voice in the room as well, but the man was speaking at a much lower volume, as if he actually realized that it was 6 AM in a hotel occupied by others.
My wife had also been awakened by the noise and was actually able to follow the conversation enough to figure out what was going on. The women it seemed was a whore or at least a part-time whore (what with downsizing and all, it was bound to happen) and was trying to strike a deal with the guy in the room next door.
I couldn’t figure out why she didn’t just leave when the guy wouldn’t cough up the money she was requesting ($200.00). I always thought hookers were very time conscious
and didn’t waste time negotiating.
But the bargaining continued, they ordered room service and ate, blabbing away at full volume the whole time. It became apparent that although the women was asking for money in exchange for sex, she wasn’t a street hooker or even an escort. It seemed she had met the guy in a nightclub at the Luxor and spent the night clubbing , drinking and gambling with him before coming back to his room and demanding $200 to tickle his tutu.
At some point they turned on a porno movie . The sound of recorded moaning and “Ohhh Gawddddddd thundered out of the room and filled the hallway of the hotel. It was nearly 7 AM by now and people were beginning to leave their rooms for breakfast. Maids were pushing carts down the hall to clean rooms and yet the sounds of prerecorded orgasms were bouncing off the walls. I kept thinking that someone would complain, maybe a family with kids headed off for a day at an amusement park or something but no one did.
After a little while, the couple apparently reached a deal and the sound of their moaning and thrusting began to mix with the porn movie to make it seem like there was a full scale Roman orgy taking place in the room.
At some point I drifted back to sleep thinking that maybe this was a new service provided by Vegas hotels: Would you like a whore in your room sir, or perhaps in the room next door?
We woke up late, ate and began the long hike down the strip, stopping in as many casinos as possible. They all begin to look alike but each one has the potential for offering something really odd, so you have to take a look.
Between Bally’s and the Flamingo we stopped in a small, dingy looking place called “Bill’s Gambling Hall”. The place was very old Vegas, with ratty carpet and lot’s of old people who looked like they started smoking when they were still in the womb.
My wife and sister motioned me over to a corner of the casino where the music of Elvis was being sung by what I assumed was just another one of the seemingly endless Elvis impersonators.
As my eyes adjusted to the dark, I slowly became aware of what first appeared to be some sort of walrus in a tent-sized, black jump suit. Whatever it was, it seemed to actually be human and it was doing a fairly good vocal imitation of the King.
As I got closer I realized that what I was seeing was clearly the worlds largest Elvis impersonator. This guy was massive, making even the latter-day, fried banana and quadruple cheeseburger for breakfast Elvis look svelte. It looked like someone has poured three hundred gallons of flesh-colored yogurt into a tight black jump suit.
He was billed as “Big Elvis” and there’s no way to argue about his title. The guy had a huge throne-like seat that he held court in. He would stand for 30 seconds or so before slumping back down into his wooden ass-harness.
The guy did actually sound like Elvis though, which is more than I can say for most people who pass themselves off as the King. But visually, it just was too much to take. I kept feeling like I was gasping for breath just watching the guy and I was afraid to get close to him because of the sweat that was launching itself from his torso.
The rest of the trip was fairly typical of a Vegas visit. Brides and grooms walking down the strip and through casinos in full wedding garb, Mexican guys handing out cards that say “ Have a women delivered to your room in 20 minutes” and the usual drunken tourists.
