A couple of years ago I had a series of nightmares where I was trapped in an unknown place. I would wake up not knowing where I was, banging on the door screaming to be let out. I now realise that place must have been Las Vegas.
It's horrible. Downtown, pawn and porn compete for business. It goes something like this: 7-11, wedding chapel, bail bond agent, motel, wedding chapel, pawn shop, bail bond agent, exotic dance club, tattoo parlour, pawn shop, wedding chapel, motel, motel, wedding chapel, topless bar, 7-11. On the main strip it goes more like this: casino, souvenir shop, casino, casino, M&M's world, souvenir shop, casino, Coca Cola world, casino, souvenir shop, casino. "In a few hundred years they'll find the remains of here and think we worshipped giant M&M's," said the woman on the bus.
On the outside not all the casinos are the same. I have in turn spent time in casinos purporting to be Venice (The Venetian), Paris (Paris), New York (New York, New York), Arthurian England (Excalibur), Egypt (Luxor) and ancient Rome (Caesar's Palace). Inside, though, they're identical. The slot machines ring and buzz incessantly, thousands in each place. Bright lights glare. Croupiers look bored. Waitresses in skimpy uniforms wander around. Piano muzac tinkers in the background. Lights flash. More bells ring. And everywhere there are children: crying on the pavements, running around the slot machines, on their parents' shoulders at the attractions.
Due to moving hotels, traffic jams and a series of ineptitudes, none of them mine, I didn't get anything to eat on Christmas Day until 4pm. As I had waited so long I decided to have the works, so I went to one of the eat-all-you-want buffets at a casino. In true Christmas tradition I ate much more than I wanted. There was no room for dessert but I had three anyway. As a consequence I could barely move. So I had little choice but to station myself at a slot machine while I digested. They are everywhere, from the baggage reclaim area at the airport to the corner shop. At bars, they are inset into the tables, so you can play while you wait to be served. The choice is mammoth: jackpot party, jackpot limbo, triple cherry, double diamond deluxe, triple triple diamond, jeopardy, reel 'em in, double double bonus poker, top banana, run for your money, bingomatic, double wild, triple cash, double bucks, jackpot stampede, triple double diamond, spin poker, on the money, five & dime, top dollar and filthy rich. I plumped for jackpot party. That day I gained four stone and lost four dollars - it could have been worse.
At the roulette table I watched a man lose $500 in five minutes. The croupier, Rodrick, rolled his eyes at me. He doesn't gamble himself: "It would be like a garbage man taking out the trash for fun," he said. The woman at the MGM Grand was having none of that. "Anyone who lives here and says they don't gamble is lying." she said.
At the Grand Canyon I met Helen and Robert, New Yorkers on vacation. They were getting married the next day at The Venetian and invited me to be their witness and sign the marriage certificate. They had chosen a deluxe package for over $1000, though a Vegas wedding can cost less than $100. For their money they got a ceremony on a fake Rialto bridge followed by gondola ride on the Grand Canal that runs through the casino's shopping mall.
I wanted to take a gift but, though I am sure there are some shops other than those for tourists in Las Vegas, I couldn't find them. However, as class didn't seem to be a top priority, I settled on some chocolate dice. The day had already gone well for Robert. Trying to settle his pre-wedding jitters, he had put $100 in a slot machine and won $2000. Helen appeared at the foot of the bridge. "What are we waiting for?" she yelled. The accordion player stuck up the wedding march, the video camera was switched on and the tourists strolling towards St Mark's Square stopped to clap. Perhaps it was the post-wedding glow that caused a sober stranger to propose to me at the bus stop afterwards. "We could get married and I could come and live in London," he said.
'Disneyland for alcoholics' is how someone described Las Vegas. He was right. The local paper for the Grand Canyon area was advertising eight upcoming events. Six of them were alcoholics anonymous meetings. The other two were book signings. Death in Grand Canyon is Tom Myer's account of the 550 people known to have been pushed or jumped over the edge. After a week in Las Vegas I know exactly how they must have felt.
