Mind Picking: Viva Las Vegas!

 

Partly to shake this funk I've been in, and partly to scratch the wanderlust as my brother's illness has made us feel it's not the right time to take another big trip, Dave and I started talking last fall about going to Vegas for a few days. I kept getting facebook ads about seeing the Eagles at the Sphere (dream concert; intriguing venue), and when I mentioned the concert to Dave, he got excited and added that he had heard about an Elvis tribute artist performing at the Westgate (the same hotel known as the International when Elvis performed there in the 70s), and booking both concerts within a few days of each other gave us something to look forward to and didn't quite feel like an abandonment of kin. Here's how it played out:

First of all, Dave had more than enough points to fly us Business Class for free (and what's better than lounge access, priority boarding, more leg room, and free booze? Getting it free!) It was still before noon when we arrived in Vegas, so after picking up a rental car, we drove out to Death Valley (Ken's suggestion, based on a previous trip of his.) GPS led us to somewhere in the middle of the National Park, so we backtracked to an Information Center we had recently passed (at Furnace Creek) and the Park Ranger couldn't have been more helpful. If we only had a couple of hours for exploring (although she thought we should have budgeted a couple of days), she recommended we check out the Badwater Basin ("Lowest point in North America and the reason we're all here"), come back along the Artists Drive, head to Zabriskie Point, and try to make Dante's View by sunset. This was a beautiful way to spend our first day, and maybe we could have used a little more time, but we felt we definitely made the most of the time we had. 

23° Celsius and the warmest temp we saw

Single digits temp at an elevation of 5475 ft a couple hours later

  

The next day we spent walking the strip, and as I ranted on facebook about a negative experience I had, I'll just quote that all here:

Today we were walking the strip, going in and out of hotels and casinos, and - as they do everywhere - as we were leaving Planet Hollywood, a young Black male employee (I think race matters) was calling out to Dave, "Sir...sir...my brother..." So Dave turned around to not be rude and the man said, "See? I knew we were brothers, we're all Americans, or are you from...?" And we said Canada and he said, "Right. Brothers. Americans. You're Fifty-oners, or will be soon enough." And we both said a stunned no and turned and he.said, "It's all jokes," and I said, "That's not a joke to us." And I think he really had no idea just how offensive that was to us, as he kept calling, "It was a joke," as we hightailed it outta there. And I think race matters, because I don't think of people of colour as natural supporters of Trump and it was just wild coming out of the mouth of someone who was obviously trying to sell us something, and it makes me really nervous to think that some average (not old white MAGA hat wearing, open carrying, freedumb trumpeting) American thinks that it's casual and appropriate conversation to quote his incoming leader threatening the sovereignty of the quiet neighbours upstairs. TL;DR: I will launch myself on a shaky ice floe from Iqaluit before I ever become a Fifty-oner. (And Dave said I couldn't rant this without cussing; sir, I am a polite Canadian.)

Yet after that (still frightening to me) experience, we went to the Benihana in our hotel for dinner, and as we took our places at the Teppanyaki grill, we made the acquaintance of the couple to our right: slightly older than us, from central California (not near the devastating LA wildfires), and we enjoyed wonderful (never political) conversation throughout dinner; he and Dave vibing together on their mutual love of Elvis. He: Did you know this used to be the International Hotel where Elvis performed? Dave: That's why we're staying here. He: Did you know there's an Elvis tribute artist performing here? Dave: We have front row tickets for tonight. He: Dang, now I wish we had tickets. We left them feeling better about Americans and America in general (we obviously know that not every American thinks of Canada as annexable), and not long after we were seated, the pair of them walked past us, beaming, being led to their own close-up seats; he and Dave continuing to grin and gesture at one another throughout the show; soul brothers at heart.

The show itself was about as close as anyone is going to get to seeing Elvis live at the International anymore (even if Dave was initially disappointed that the show spanned songs from Elvis' entire career instead of just replicating the actual 70s Vegas show), but getting to go on the VIP backstage tour after was like treading holy ground for Dave. We were shown the spot where Elvis prayed every night preshow, the dressing room that he had built (half of which is closed off for current performers; Barry Manilow right now), the one area of original hardwood flooring from Elvis' day (complete with shrine), his elevator, drinking fountain, just about more than Dave could handle. He got to go out onto the stage and see the audience as Elvis once saw it (even if the seating is different), and after posing with Joey the tribute artist, and after everyone else walked on to see other things, I said to Dave, "Why don't you sing?" He said, "I can't sing," darting his eyes to the hallway. I said, "You don't know these people." And when Dave sang the first couple lines of In the Ghetto, his eyes got shiny and his smile got big and that may have just been the most connected he ever felt to his childhood hero. That's a good day, overall.

The following was our free day, and since we had a rental car, we had planned for a drive along the Extraterrestrial Highway to Area 51 (mostly for the lols, but also because I wanted to see it?)

The first stop was the Alien Research Center - which is actually just a gift shop, but it's the only place with Area 51 warning signs, so of course I had to do a book pose with one.

Funny story: the woman who worked here apologised for being dopeyheaded as she rang us up, saying that a wracking cough had been preventing her from sleeping every time she laid down. "Living out here," she said, "I know better than to go down rabbitholes, but everyone seems to have this cough. And the flu is over - it came in December and now it's done - but this cough...everyone has it and it almost makes you wonder if they're trying to get rid of us before he takes office next week." I could not tell from this just who "they" are trying to get rid of: there were zero context clues as to whether she was for or against Trump, or whether it was Trump's or Biden's side wanting to get rid of people, and then she said this: "And out in California, I don't know. The Santa Ana winds have never burned down LA before and now it's just gone. It makes you wonder." So, yeah, good thing she avoids the rabbitholes (but she might want to investigate some straight up, fact checked science sites...I unironically think to myself as I leave to continue my drive down the Extraterrestrial Highway.)

We had lunch at the Little A'Le'inn and the lovely server reassured us that it's not dangerous to take the nearby Back Gate Road to the rear entrance of the Edwards Air Force base (the closest a civilian can actually get to Area 51) because tourists do it all day long, every day. So these tourists did it, too.

I definitely wouldn't have gotten any closer to the guard hut

From here we travelled on to Tonopah and the world famous (probably haunted) Clown Motel. Definitely worth a look for the curiosity-minded, but as their website warns that some guests have felt a "malevolent presence" in the middle of the night, that's not somewhere I would want to stay (not that I necessarily believe in malevolent presences, but why risk being wrong about something like that?) The gift shop/museum is creepy enough for me. (We also would have explored the nearby "ghost town" silver mining site, but it was super cold and windy and the staff at the visitor's centre said that the outdoor exhibits were closed due to the weather.)

The next morning we spent driving around and walked up and down Fremont Street (not so much happening during the day, and we've been there at night before, so it was mostly wasting time, and it was cold in the shade). 

We drove around to a few classic toy stores (nothing for Dave at any of them) and I waited in the car (maybe snoozing) while Dave checked out the Pawn Stars shop (did I mention that we stayed up really late the night before drinking at our hotel's lobby bar and digging the house band?) When we had seen about all there was to see, we went back to the hotel for a siesta, had a lovely dinner at the hotel's Italian restaurant, and then Ubered to the Sphere.

OK, sidenote: We're not foodies, and rarely plan meals too far out, so when we started thinking, "Where should we eat before the concert?", I googled restaurants near the Sphere and website after website showed no available reservations for that evening (not surprising in retrospect as the Sphere holds over 18 000 people and was sold out).  I then checked the Italian restaurant at the Westgate and was able to get a reservation, so that was settled. But when we went down for dinner, we realised that the Teachers' Convention must have just let out and there were crowds and lineups everywhere. We waited patiently in line as groups in front of us were either led into the restaurant or put on a waiting list, and then this one woman wearing a lanyard from the convention pushed to the front of the line, loudly saying, "We have a reservation", and waved with both arms for her big group to join her at the front. Well, we had a reservation, too, and perhaps some of the others in front of us did, too, and isn't learning to wait your turn, like, day one of kindergarten? (Ultimately, this didn't affect our timing or our enjoyment of a fine meal, but it felt ironic coming from a group of teachers.)

Moving on: we Ubered to the Sphere (lovely young driver who had no idea that the Eagles had extended their residency and who was shocked to learn that their show was sold out every night), and it didn't take long to enter the building, get Dave a Tshirt and a couple of beers in commemorative cups, and find our seats on the floor. And I will admit that there's a trade-off to where we sat: We were 11 rows back from the side of the stage (front row, centre were available at the time of booking but they're something like two grand [US] each and we didn't think that was reasonable), so while our view of the stage was incredible, we weren't part of the pitched seating further up that might have made for a more immersive experience. (But again, those seats have their own drawbacks, and looking waaaaay up to the top rows, I think they would give me vertigo. If I think of this as watching a band perform, we had ideal seats and the projections behind them certainly enhanced the show; if we were truly wanting the Sphere experience, I think we would have needed to be up higher.) When Dave slipped out to get a couple more beers before the show started, I began a conversation with the man beside me - probably in his 80s, he and his wife were from Vancouver Island and had seen the Eagles a few times over the years - and he told me that when they realised they had floor seats, they were worried that they would have to stand to see the band when everyone else inevitably got up to dance, however, ushers had come by a couple of times to warn that there's no standing or dancing anywhere at the Sphere (which I guess I  understand for the high up seats; and while I thought Dave might be disappointed, it was pretty relaxing to just sit in our chairs and enjoy the music as it washed over us.)

The Eagles (I do know there's no "the" in their name, but it doesn't feel right to refer to them without it) played every song we could have hoped for - including Joe Walsh performing some of his top solo hits ("If I knew I'd be singing this song for sixty years, I'd have written a better one"), the late Glenn Frey's son, Deacon, filling in on his Dad's songs, Vince Gill joining in, and of course, the great Don Henley front and center (when not on drums) - and while, yes, they're older, and, yes, this isn't exactly the original band, they crushed this concert, and I do feel like I have seen the Eagles at the ideal time and place. (Loved that they saved Desperado - considered Ken's song around here - for the encore; I wish he could have come.) We walked back to the Westgate afterwards - although we had been told it would be too far, it took twenty minutes in lovely, cool air - had a drink at the lobby bar while vibing with another excellent house band, and that was that before leaving the next day.

OK, I can't help but note again: When Dave checked us in, he was told that if we wanted a room with a coffeemaker, it would be an additional $20/night (and this on top of the hotel charging $50/each/night for "resort fees" when the hotel has no "resort" facilities, but that was known in advance and accepted as we were staying there solely to sleep where Elvis had slept), so every morning Dave went down to the Starbucks to get me a coffee (best guy ever). As we were leaving the hotel, weaving through endless shop-lined hallways as we made our way towards the parking garage, we came upon a line-up, dozens-deep, of folks from the Teachers' Convention, waiting to order Starbucks. And as we struggled through with our carryons rolling behind us, I had to wonder: OK, I understand it must be frustrating for none of these people to have coffeemakers in their rooms, either, and they must have been anxious to get their Starby's before their day started, but as we excused ourselves through gaggle after gaggle, I couldn't help but wonder, "Isn't learning to lineup singlefile, like, the second day of kindergarten?" These teachers: sheesh.

After anticipating this trip for months, it's hard to believe it's over. I never once in my life thought about going to Death Valley, never seriously planned to drive a ten mile-long gravel road to the back gate of Area  51, never actually expected to see the Eagles in concert: they've come to Toronto before and I never even thought to look for tickets. Something about this trip at this time just felt right - and all the Elvis stuff was a thrill for Dave - and I'm so glad we did it. So there: I've made a memory and shook off the funk enough to write it all down. Let's go, 2025.