Tonight we’re going to Vegas, where some people will be leaving the trip before we go on to LA and finally San Francisco.
First though, we have to do a final ‘bus toss’ before we leave the Grand Canyon, which means getting everything off the bus so everyone can amalgamate their possessions. Jimmy keeps repeating a mantra: ‘the quicker we do this, the more time we have in Las Vegas’, but it takes two and a half hours. I’m not too bothered because I am not that keen on visiting Vegas.
On the way, still in Arizona, we stop in Seligman, on the old Route 66. A diversion was built about forty years ago and the town almost died, but after a campaign to have the road renamed ‘traditional Route 66’ the Seligman was reborn as a 1950s nostalgia trip. There’s a dusty outback feel to the place too, with the garage in the middle of town strewn with beat up cars that will no doubt be recreated as one of the fifties classics that line the street. There is also Delgadillo’s Snow Cap Drive-In, a ‘historic’ roadside restaurant still run by the Delgadillo family, though I am not tempted by its offerings of ‘cheeseburger with cheese’ or ‘dead chicken’, or even its ice cream, but instead walk up the road past the gas station with the 50s pick-ups outside it, and then the tat shop (‘Chevy Parking Only’ outside) where a mannequin of Elvis with a blond sit on the bumper of the old Chevy.
We’re doing good time as Charlie is on the wheel again and get to Vegas a half hour before planned, despite our later than planned start.
What can I say about Vegas? There’s the naff miniature rebuilds of some of the world’s architectural monuments, there are Casinos the size of Wembley Stadium, there are roller coasters swinging in and out of hotel buildings, a legion of Elvis impersonators charging $5 to pose for pictures, as well as the odd Gene Simmons from Kiss or a Slash from Guns’n’Roses. Then of course there is the fountain show outside the Bellagio Hotel, which I enjoyed despite the fountains dancing to the music of Barry Manilow.
However, the first thing that strikes me is just how sleazy this place is. The streets are lined with men and women handing out ticket sized leaflets for call girls or ‘masseuses’ and many thousands of these tickets layer the pavement. Beggars also line the street, with one holding up a sign saying ‘I’m so dirty, even my crabs have herpes’. Meanwhile, inside the Planet Hollywood Casino, the card tables at the centre are backed up with table dancers in lingerie, oddly gyrating to barely audible music. This must be why Vegas is part of the National Parks tour. It’s the national human zoo. Anything goes in LV.
The group decision was to eat at the Planet Hollywood buffet restaurant. At $30 a head, this must be one of the most expensive buffets you can find in the US, and is certainly more than I have paid for any meal I’ve had since I flew into LA at the end of May. We have to queue for a half hour to get tables. When I finally sit down at one, there are eight people at my table which is designated as a seven person table. In any other restaurant, they would be happy if the covers volunteered to cram themselves in, but this is Vegas, which is designed to part us with our money. The waiter tells us that there is a $40 cover charge (i.e. excluding the dinner) if we want to sit an extra person at our table, so Kiwi Emma kindly volunteers to move. So anything goes in Vegas, unless you want to sit an extra person at your restaurant table.
One thing that you can do is bring alcohol from outside into the casinos. It has probably been scientifically proven that the more drunk the patrons, the more likely they are to gamble.
Food-wise, there were plenty of options at the buffet with counters for East Asian, Italian, Seafood, ‘American’ (beef!), etc but nobody comes away overly impressed with it. That said, most of us take advantage of the ‘all you can eat’ policy after two weeks of veggie Green Tortoise bus meals.
The rest of the evening is spent hanging around various casinos watching people play incomprehensible slot machines. I try one which has three rows of five symbols and pushing a button makes some lines go up and down the blocks. I have no idea what any of it means and lose my dollar. That was the sum of my night’s gambling, though Korean Kids comes away gleaming having won $7.50. Meanwhile, San Franciscan Rick is seen getting carried out of the casino by some of the GT crew in an ecstatic display of celebration like he’d just won enough to retire. In reality he could just about buy a round of drinks.
We have several people on the trip, like the Scottish fiddler Neil, who are under 21, and therefore not technically allowed into the casinos. However, the only time anybody’s ID gets checked is when they try to cash their winnings, so you can gamble if you are under 21, you just can’t win.
After some protracted goodbyes to people staying in Vegas which almost costs a few people their rides to LA / SF, we leave Vegas just before midnight.
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| Seligman, Route 66 |
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| Vegas.... |
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