This is a sweltering desert town where the temperature is on low broil setting.
To detract from the crippling heat, some resorts have been given names associated with bodies of water or seaside resorts. With air conditioning blasting from every corridor, the heat is tamed for bits, in between the shuffling between unevenly paved cement and puddles of vomit.
This is where selfies come to fail when cell phone owners, single fisting their iPhones as they juggle their tall Margaritaville drink with their freehand, run into poles, signs, strangers or asphalt as they laugh through another evening of drunken revelry. But there are no regrets here, especially is a potential cash cow like a slot machine is nearby to fund a newer phone.
Casinos used to have plenty of $1 slots. Now it is the penny machines that dominate the floors, although some of those require a minimum fifty cent bet. With so few gamblers compared to the crowds during pre-recession America, the casinos have to flex their creativity to attract the budget pocketbook.
But Vegas still moves onward.
I saw Michael Jackson’s One last night, the Cirque de Soleil tribute to the King of Pop. Amid the dazzling acrobatics and impossible feats of flexibility and dance, I discovered my own dislike of all Michael Jackson music post his “Off The Wall” album.
We also watched “Divas, ” the legendary drag show at The Quad. I enjoyed all the lip synching and, thanks to “Rupaul ‘s Drag Race, ” marveled at the expert tucks. I saw the show a few years earlier, before Rupaul ‘s show and the term “werk” became popular, and the couples seated at our table looked as if they had been tasered., their shock a female impersonators so pronounced that I felt an exorcism in their future. With drag shows now part of our mainstream entertainment, the crowd seemed savvy and grateful. This really is the best show in town.
As the people sitting behind me kept singing along with all the Top 40 songs used in both shows, I felt like an old lady who was too far behind the times. I stopped listening to pop hits in high school, transferring my audio allegiance to fill albums and alternative music. Nothing is alternative in this world anymore, thanks to the Internet. Vegas irons it out and makes it into a palatable live MTV video.
In between, the homeless sit on streets. One man with a long beard wore a bra and tutu. Even he had more style than I. Sigh.
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