Viva Odd Vegas, conclusion

This is supposed to make me want to eat here?  OK.

Viva Odd Vegas - conclusion

I had big plans for this Las Vegas trip.  I had been given a free pass to attend Front Sight, a weapons training school located about 45 minutes from Las Vegas.  It was a two day school.  The timing would be perfect since the conference started on Wednesday.  I planned to fly in on Sunday and take the school on Monday and Tuesday, ahead of the conference.  But by the time I tried to register for the shooting school it was already booked up.  So that ruined the first part of the week for me.   Therefore I rescheduled my flight to reduce the hotel expense, and canceled the rent car since I did not need to drive to the school. 

Plan B was to visit the odd and weird places in Las Vegas that don’t get much attention.  But since I canceled my rent car, I did not have an easy way to get around the area.  It is hard to use a cab when you really don’t know where to tell the driver to go, and I am clueless when trying to figure out bus schedules.  So on Tuesday morning of my first full day there, I just walked around the “strip”.  To be clear, the “strip” does not involve removing any clothing, but it does involve removing money from your wallet.  Everything in Vegas is expensive.  All the new casinos are now located on Las Vegas Blvd, (the Strip) and not on Fremont Street any more. 

It was a hot day, even though it was mid-October, so I ended my stroll and headed to the hotel pool.   I cooled off in the water, then ordered a couple of adult beverages.  They cost as much as a full meal at a nice restaurant.  But this is Vegas.  You can figure that everything costs at least double what it would cost in the outside world.  I don’t know where the famously cheap buffets have gone but I never saw one.  

After the pool I am sure I went back to my room to do some work on my computer.  I am sure of this because there may be someone from my office that might read this.   After working really hard, I ventured back outside to find some dinner and to people watch.   It got late, and I was tired.  My feet hurt and my contact lens were dry from the desert air so I headed back to my hotel.  Not quite yet ready to call it a night, I was in Vegas, after all, I thought I’d get another cocktail as a night cap.  I have always heard that they give gamblers free drinks when in the casino, so I decided to test that theory.   I don’t know how to gamble, but any moron can use a slot machine, right? 

  

In preparation for this trip, I read up on gambling techniques.  I was going to be an educated gambler, not a chump.  I read that each slot machine says on the front of it how much it has paid out in winnings.  You should choose a machine with a high payout amount. Some slot machines take quarters and some take singles, fives or even a credit card.  The article said to avoid a machine near the casino entrances, since those machines were adjusted to pay out fewer winnings than ones near the back of the casino.  So, I wandered into the bowels of the casino armed with all this knowledge.  In the dim light I saw a bank of slot machines that looked like they took single dollars so I sat down.  It felt good to take a load off my feet.  I did not have any single ones, so I fed a $5 bill in the machine, figuring I would slowly play five times.  I hoped a waitress would come by and I’d get a free drink.  I hit the play button and watched the ubiquitous images on the slot machine tumble in front of me.  They came to a stop, and of course I lost.  It was only then that I realized I had mistakenly chosen to bet the entire $5 on one roll.  Damn.  That was not much fun.  I guess not every moron can play a slot machine.  I did not wait for a waitress.  I took what remained of my pride up to the room and went to bed.

Fremont Street, downtown Las Vegas

The next two days were the conference and I did learn a lot.  In my professional position I need to stay on the cutting edge of regulations and technology.  Attending these conferences is a way to do that.  (This statement was NOT directed at the person who approves my expense report).  A couple of my buddies, Ben and Justin,  from another company were there too and we attended the sessions together. 

Our last night there I suggested we go to the old downtown Las Vegas, on Fremont Street, where the original casinos were built in the 40’s and 50’s.  The city has turned Fremont Street into an open air mall, of sorts.  They closed off the street to vehicles.  There is a huge archway of LED lighting, which is perhaps 100 feet above the street, spanning from one side of the street to the other.  This lighting system covers several blocks of the old downtown street.  They say this is the largest viewing screen in the world. There was music blaring from an unseen sound system. Millions of LED lights pulsed above our heads, in unison to the music.  The sparkling glow from the lights and from the surrounding casino’s neon, made the place festive and alive.

On Fremont Street the crowd is, well, a bit rougher than the folks walking around on the Strip.   These patrons seem a bit less well heeled.  Perhaps they shouldn’t be here spending money on booze and gambling.  I wondered how many were blowing their rent money.   Mixed among the throng of visitors were dozens of street performers.  These performers adopt cartoon character personas or dress as super heroes and want you to tip them when they pose for photos.  It seems like an odd way to make a living.  But these entertainers probably think that sitting indoors in a boring conference for two days is an odd idea too.

We saw lots of pretty girls posing in show girl costumes.  And some girls who were wearing even less that showgirl costumes.  We did not choose to get photos with any of them.  I am a happily married man, just in case my wife, the fetching Mrs. Intrepid Traveler, happens to read this.  

No, not a Chippendale dancer

There were muscled up men posing as Chippendale dancers.  Star Wars characters, jugglers, and all other manner of street artists.   I spotted an old guy who was supposed to be Cupid, wearing just a red thong, pasties and wings.  He sported a bow and arrow and beckoned  me to come closer.  I did not move, or even make eye contact with him.  No reason to tempt fate.  There were singles, couples and families pushing baby strollers in the mix of folks enjoying Fremont Street.  But I don’t know why anyone would bring a kid down there.  I spotted one very pregnant lady, drinking a beer, who apparently wanted to get a jump start of producing a child suited for life as a street performer.  

My aching feet decided for me that I had experienced enough fun, so I suggested we call it an evening.  It was an enjoyable week.  I had fun with Ben and Justin,  and liked the conference and the nightlife.  But I did not get to see the odd and weird things that I had hoped to see...  unless I count the moron I saw in the mirror who’d just played a five dollar bill in the one dollar slot machine.  Who knew gambling took brains?  Maybe I am qualified to be a street performer after all.  Move over Cupid.

Viva Odd Vegas, part one

Viva Odd Vegas, part one

I just got back from Las Vegas, Nevada where I attended a business conference.  Yes, I know what you must be thinking:  Vegas?  Work?  Seriously, it was for work.  I was a delegate at an annual industry conference that actually is beneficial for me to attend.  I am not a big drinker, or a gambler, so Vegas does not have that much appeal to me.  But now and again, it is interesting to go out there and pretend I belong.

I was curious as to how Las Vegas came to be, so I did a little research.  The name, Las Vegas, loosely translates to “the land of cheap souvenir T-shirts”.  This translation seemed a bit odd, when I read that this area was visited by Indians and Mexican goat herders long before T-Shirts were invented.   Some things never change, however.  Back then, parents returning from the area brought back woven blankets that were hand painted with:  “Mom and Dad went to Vegas and all I got was this wool blanket.”

The famed one armed explorer, John C. Fremont was sent by the U.S. war dept. to the Las Vegas valley in 1844, when it was still Mexican territory, in preparations for a possible war with Mexico.   There ultimately was a war and this area became U.S. territory.  It is said that Fremont, in a moment of dire thirst, said “I’d give my right arm for a cold beer right now”.  He was a century too soon, but the sentiment of giving up an arm to be in Vegas is the reason why slot machines are referred to as one armed bandits.  Well… this story sounded plausible when I first made it up.

In 1930 the Hoover dam was started, which eventually furnished the region with water.  The city literally blossomed in the desert from the abundant water, almost free electricity from the dam generators, and money from the mafia.  The Nevada state legislature made gambling legal and the first casino, Pair of Dice, opened in 1931.  By 1942 organized crime figures such as New York's Bugsy Siegel, (not to be confused with Bugsy Bunny, who would have been here, but took a wrong turn in Albuquerque), took interest in the growing gaming center.  Other resorts such as the Flamingo, which opened in 1946, and the Desert Inn, which opened in 1950 joined the casino world.  After the casinos on Freemont Street were built the money started flowing in from all over the world.  

Elvis was a Pee-Wee wannabe.

Gambling was no longer the only attraction; the biggest stars of films and music like Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, Liberace, Elvis Presley and Pee-Wee Herman, performed here.  OK, maybe he wasn’t a big star, compared to Pee-Wee,  but Elvis eventually gained some notoriety, and weight here. After coming to see these stars, the tourists would resume gambling, eat at the gourmet buffets, then go back home and have a heart attack.  Perhaps it was not from over-indulging, but from seeing the credit card bill.

One problem for the City of Las Vegas was that the Strip did not reside in Las Vegas proper. Because of this, the city lost tax revenue. There was a push to annex the Strip by the City of Las Vegas, but the Mafia used a legal maneuver to organize the Las Vegas Strip properties into an unincorporated township called Paradise. The city of Las Vegas, cannot annex an unincorporated township. To this day, virtually all of the Strip remains outside the City of Las Vegas

I think that the phrase “what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas” is really misleading.  None of the stuff that happens in Vegas is really in Las Vegas.  So does that mean it does not stay there?  Does it now follow you all over the world, like a stalker? 

I will continue with part two of this after I have had time to sober up enough to attend my Gamblers Anonymous meeting. 

No sign of intelligent life

No sign of intelligent life

I love signs.  Funny, silly, stupid, rude or totally inappropriate signs.  I photograph them or I collect the photos that other sharp eyes have seen.  Some of the good ones are here, for your amusement.  Don't blame the messenger, I just present what I find.

No danger of this for me

I

or throw a brick thru it if you are in Ferguson Missouri

If you can read this you are standing too close to Asia.

But too lazy to read?

Some good deals here, maybe get your own stuff back.

Raise your arms and wave at it.

you may need an aspirin

Damn

Nature's revenge

Nature’s revenge

Oh yea, innocent looking bastard, isn't it?

You may recall, if you have not managed to repress the painful memory of reading it, that I wrote an entry to this blog on the topic of accidentally destroying some native bird eggs titled “Death on the Farm”.   It was my confession and apology to nature that we had unintentionally destroyed two sets of bird eggs.  These were sad events.

I don’t ever intentionally kill animals, fish, or insects unless they pose a threat to me or family.  Even when I find a scorpion in the house, I don’t dispatch it.  Instead I scoop it up and remove it to the outdoors.  That seems like the proper thing to do.   

I have done the very same thing to venomous snakes.  We’ve found a Coral Snake and a couple of Copperheads in the yard this year.  My wife, the Fetching Mrs. Intrepid Traveler, assisted me in capturing the Copperhead in an Igloo Cooler (Attention Igloo Corp.  Endorsements available.) and toted it to the other side of the dam where we tossed it into the brush.  This was perhaps a 100 yards from the house.   The next day we found an identical Copperhead in the same area where we caught the first one.  We repeated the Igloo treatment.  I do not know if this second snake was the mate of the first, or it was the same snake who just came back for its stuff.  But when we got rid of the second one we did not see any more.

The point of this is that we go out of our way to avoid harming wildlife, with the exception to those that are in the Hymenoptera order of insects.  Playing nice with snakes and scorpions is one thing, but we have had a lot of wasp nests being built around the house, and I hate wasps.  They can fly, their sting really hurts, and they can sting multiple times without dying (unlike bees).  I found one wasp nest built under the redwood table right next to the pool.  I sprayed it with poison to kill them.  Another nest was under the seat of the bench swing.  I sprayed it too, along with a few more that were in places where we could very easily have a bad encounter with them.  

So I guess it should not surprise me that I was brutally and viciously attacked by members of that same insect family while I was working in the yard today.  We had a pine tree, about the size of a decent telephone pole, get uprooted during a wind storm and fall into the lake.  It is about one half submerged in the water, and the pine needles on it have turned a sickly brown.  It is very depressing to see that dead tree laying in the lake.

I decided that today was a good day to cut it up into manageable pieces and drag it out of the lake with the tractor.  I cut it into three sections and was pulling the first to the burn pile that we use when we hear that the atmosphere is low on CO2.  We had not burned anything for months, so a lot had piled up.  I drug the first section of the tree to the pile.  I jumped off the tractor and was in the process of unhooking the chain that was wrapped around the log when I felt a nasty sting on my arm. 

Then I felt other stings and saw that I had disturbed a nest of bees that had taken up residence in the burn pile.   I could not tell how many bees were attacking me, and I did not wait to count them.  I made a “bee line” to the house, running and swatting away the bees as they chased me from their nest.  I ran past the pool but did not jump in.  I had a lot of mud on my shoes and did not want to get the pool dirty.

I was beating them off with my gimme cap as I ran from the scene.  This was not just any gimme cap.  This was my prized cap from an Oilfield Trade Show that had an embossed drawing of a pump jack on it with the words “Save our Strippers”.  This referenced Stripper wells, which are low producing oil wells which the United States has hundreds of thousands of.  If these wells are shut in due to Government regulations, the oil stops flowing to the wells and they become non-producers.  The organization giving out the caps was fighting the Gov’t regs. that were forcing the wells to be shut in.  But of course, since the cap refers to “strippers” and we are men, then naturally the message might be thought to refer to another kind of stripper.  I love double entendres.  However, I digress.

As I said, I was beating off the bees as I dashed into the house.  I made it to the bathroom and started stripping (there’s that word again) off my shirt to uncover the stings.  My wife dabbed the Sting-Eze on to the growing welts.  I had perhaps two dozen stings, but the only one that really bothered me was one right below my right eye.  It still had the stinger in it and was swelling up.  I got tweezers and pulled out the stinger on that one and a couple on my arm.  I suppose that some people would be concerned that this many bee stings could cause me to go into Afflectic shock.  But not me.  I was not concerned about that.  I don’t know or care about the actor Ben Afflect.  Therefore nothing he could do would shock me.

I am recovering now after taking a soothing shower.  This is a good reason to relax the rest of the day, watch College Football, and nap.  The bees were perhaps getting revenge for their fellow Hymenoptera, but they did me a favor.   I now have an excuse to be lazy.  I should relax. I may even watch a movie.  Perhaps I will watch a Ben Afflect movie and decide he actually is a good actor.  That would be shocking.