I have burned the candle at both ends. We’ve hit the road a week ago last Friday. I am bushed. Please, let this not be the screaming baby flight from Vegas. I
My sister and brother-in-law arrived in Las Vegas yesterday. This is one of those lucky, versus planned, things. They were scheduled to be here for a convention. In fact, when I asked if they wanted to have lunch today, they were busy selling.
At least we had one meal together. Yesterday, my sister, brother-in-law, and three cousins hit the MGM coffee shop. We were seven, not a common number. We waited over and hour for a table, and that was with a line pass!
Last night, I thought it would be fun if we took our young cousin, Max, downtown. Staying on the Strip, downtown’s far away and never seen.
Fremont Street, the main drag downtown, is where all the gaudy signs were in the 40s, 50s and 60s. If you saw Elvis in Vegas, Fremont Street is where he was. It really can’t compete with the Strip anymore, so it has positioned itself a little more downscale and affordable.
Fremont Street is where you an get 99¢ shrimp cocktails (Golden Gate Hotel – they’re still great) and where $5 blackjack players get rated for comps. The street itself has been closed to traffic, covered with a mesh canopy and loaded with little kiosks and stands.
The atmosphere is comparable to what I’d expect on New Years Eve in Times Square. There are people of every shape, size and color. Families gawk. Pierced, Mohawked wackos gawk. Retirees gawk. They’re all together, and though the area seems tawdry, I never felt unsafe.
Cousin Michael made note of the nearly invisible security. We’re guessing they’re hidden, just seconds away… but that’s a hopeful guess and nothing more.
Once an hour, all the outside casino lights dim and thousands of tiny lights on the overhead canopy turn on to project a multimedia show. It’s called the Fremont Street Experience.
A few years ago the show was brought up-to-date… which ruined it! A more appropriate, though still modern, show is currently featured.
We were back at our hotel before midnight (which here, on a Saturday night, is something like noon anywhere else).
Our room is sad now. Nearly everything is packed and ready to go. Southwest Airlines has already sent me a text message saying our flight should be running on-time. The weather here and in Connecticut should cooperate.
It’s not over until I call the bellman. That’s only minutes away.
