*That’s me, by the way. Not ‘Johnny Vegas’, the famous UK comedian. Although it probably won’t do this article’s rankings any harm for Google to think it is.
Elvis sang ‘Viva Las Vegas’, as indeed I did on many occasions during a recent three-day visit to Vegas with my sons. I still can’t get that damned song out of my head. Although, it doesn’t have quite the same resonance a few weeks later, as I watch the rain pouring down on my blustery South-London garden.
In Vegas we first sang along to it on the car stereo, as we drove down the glitzy ‘Vegas Strip’ on our arrival. I posted a video on YouTube of our tuneless carpool-karaoke, but YouTube said it infringed copyright and they banned it. Quite how they could even hear the original over our barbarous caterwauling I don’t know.
I don’t think Elvis ever came to London, or the UK for that matter. Why would he? We have crap weather, especially in my back garden, and don’t forget there were ‘a thousand pretty women’ waiting for him in Las Vegas*.
*Note: This particular part of the lyric (probably heavily copyrighted too, so it may have been redacted and you won’t know what I’m talking about) wasn’t classed as sexist when the record came out in 1964, and there was certainly no truth in it in 2024. Granted I saw a few well-paid stunners hanging off the arms of much older and wealthier men. However, the female contingent was mostly mature hen-parties (second, third or tenth marriage) comprised of ladies that had reached their peak some years ago. A few bad tattoos and botox-pumped lips that came round the corner before they did wasn’t going to get them back up that hill any time soon.
I make Las Vegas sound a bit tawdry and debauched, don’t I? Well, it is. But that’s the whole point of Las Vegas, and it always has been.
You don’t go to Vegas for high culture, although an amusing pastiche of it comes to you in the shape of your hotel. There’s Ancient Rome (Ceasars Palace), The Grand Canal (The Venetian), La Belle Epoque (Paris Las Vegas)…and where we stayed, the pyramid-shaped Luxor (ancient Egypt, if you hadn’t guessed). There’s probably a hotel themed for every high point of human history. Although I didn’t see one for my all-time favourite, which was 1980s Huddersfield.
Did I enjoy Sin City (Vegas that is, not Huddersfield)? Yes, I did. Did I sin? Well, they say that ‘what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas’*.
*A word of warning, that doesn’t apply to gonorrhoea or pubic lice.
You can’t not enjoy Vegas, it’s a pleasure-drome. Although you couldn’t enjoy it for more than three days. The novelty might wear off once the money runs out. It’s easy to dispose of plenty of dollars just by walking through it. All those classy hotels are interlinked by a non-stop amusement arcade of hypnotic slot machines with seven-figure promises flashing above them.
It’s true what they say, by the way, that old ladies in mobility scooters are the worst of the slotty-feeders. Some had even brought their cats with them in their front-baskets. I could hear their plaintive miaowing as their mistresses spunked their Felix budget for the month.
The casinos still have roulette, blackjack and craps for the traditionalists, although latterly these classier games been pushed to the sidelines. The revenue from them is far too slow and labour-intensive, it’s the 24hr slots that churn the dollars at a rate of knots. Apparently, they pump the air full of oxygen to keep the slotty-players awake. So, you can’t even dream of winning the jackpot…you just have to keep trying.
And the beer isn’t cheap either. $10 for a can in the hotel casinos (although here’s a handy tip, its only $2.50 for the same can in the petrol station over the road from the Luxor, and they do a nice microwaved burger breakfast too).
The worst excess of exorbitant beer prices was finding that very same can retailing at $20 at both the Nascar racetrack and the otherwise splendid Allegiant Stadium. So, you need to take a reasonable budget for frittering on the fruities, sports watching and swilling booze whilst you do it. I’d suggest $500,000 per day.
Some entertainment is relatively free, like driving from LA airport across the Mojave Desert for five hours to get to Vegas as the sun goes down. All very ‘Fear and Loathing’, without the boot-full of drugs, before the ‘bright-light city’ on the eventual horizon ‘turns night into daytime’ (copyright Elvis, again, sorry Elvis).
Also relatively free is the wonderful Big (formerly Fat) Elvis who performs at Harrah’s Cocktail Bar on the strip three times a day. Quite why he changed his name I don’t know. Maybe it wasn’t considered politically correct anymore, or maybe he’s actually lost weight. Perhaps next time I go he’ll be ‘Medium Elvis’ or even just plain ‘Elvis’.
Big Elvis sings ‘Viva Las Vegas’ too, probably three times a day. I wonder if he pays the Elvis estate their pound of flesh…maybe that’s where it’s all gone?
Apart from the hedonistic allure of the strip there is another Vegas. If you ever stopped to wonder why you weren’t seeing all the homeless folks you’d see in LA, then for them there is a poorer Vegas. This is one where loan sharks and pawn shops proliferate. One of the latter being made famous in the TV Show ‘Pawn Stars’.
We went along for a look at this famous emporium but it was closed. This was probably just as well, as I’d planned to pawn one of my sons for more beer and slotty money.
So, as we filled the car up with drugs for the drive back to LA, what did I make of it all? For a good time with good company, it’s great.
Could I live there though? Hell, yes. Viva, Viva, Las Vegas*.
Just in case it had passed you by, here it is…
For more of Johnny’s travels click here
JOHNNY SPANGLES - THE TIGHTFIST TRAVELLER 