We are out of bed at 6:30 am and ready to go by 7 am. We say good bye to the quiet beauty of Yosemite and start driving to a very different place.
We head out on the highway, leaving the green behind, and start our trip through the desert to the ‘oasis’ of Las Vegas.
Following my parents advice we play Pink Floyd’s Dark Side of the Moon. The trippy sounds complimenting the unreal desert landscape.
We drive along major interstate highways in a little green car, competing for space with giant trucks roaring at illegal speeds, trying to get to their final destination in record time.
After ten hours of desert, the occasionally town, the occasional toilet (thank God!), and the occasional snack, we drive over a ridge and see the beginnings of Vegas.
We see a small enclave of casinos and hotels. We laugh ourselves silly when we see one of the casinos is called Terrible’s. Why on earth would you choose this name? After a few days in Vegas we realise that this is actually a large company with a string of different ventures to its name; casino, mechanic, corner store ...
We keep driving and reach our turn off, Frank Sinatra Drive - I think it would have been more fitting to call it Frank Sinatra Way, a better reference to his famous song.
We stare open mouthed at Vegas, giant buildings, construction everywhere, casino billboards promoting naked ladies and big wins. Advertisements for gun shops everywhere - come in and try out a machine gun for free, the sexy sign lady tells us while holding a giant gun herself.
We make it our hotel, Palms Place, the more up-market hotel joined to The Palms casino. After some trouble checking in, we make it up to our room, exhausted but excited to be somewhere completely different. We have no idea what to expect.
We try and make ourselves presentable, we haven’t had a decent shower since San Francisco, and head down to check out The Palms casino. We make our way through the skywalk - the long corridor joining the hotel with the casino - passing very drunk and exuberant people making their way back to their rooms. The smell of alcohol wafts off them in a wave. Now that I think about it, there is a stale smell in the air that is a mix of cigarette smoke, alcohol, vomit and industrial strength cleaning agent.
We get to the casino. It is dark inside, even though it is still very light outside - the sun doesn’t set until 7:45 pm. The climate controlled environment pushes the permanent feeling of twilight, an acceptable time to drink and gamble we suppose.
We walk past flashing lights, slot machines, card tables and bars. People gambling are kept happy with a full drink permanently in their hand. People sitting at the bar are kept happy with a gambling screen permanently in front of them set in to the table.
We decide on Mexican for dinner - a healthy protein-packed meal of beans - and find a restaurant. There are at least five in this one giant gambling arena. We walk past a cinema as large as any megaplex in Australia, we see the entrance to the entertainment stadium where people like Elvis Costello and Jazzy Jeff have recently played - the sign tells me. We walk by the food court featuring at least 12 different food outlets. We read posters advertising the 4 clubs that are on upper levels - one being the famous Playboy club, bunnies and all.
We order a margarita, sit for dinner, and have a delicious and surprisingly healthy, meal. The portion size is outrageous and we can’t finish it all. We tell our waiter that the food was amazing and feel like we need to apologise for not being able to finish our gigantic meal.
Full to brim and slightly slurry after the strongest drink we have had for a while, we stumble back to our room, fully aware as we pass people on their way to check out the casino, that we have become the drunks on our way back to our room.
So this is Vegas, baby.
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