The day of our departure from Las Vegas had arrived already. The two nights were behind us. And yet we were not due to arrive in Los Angeles to stay with Aunt Carol and Uncle Cal until Thursday 21st June. The Las Vegas experience was leaving me feeling cold and ready to move on... hop into the car and cruise to another town. I suspect that the Sahara Hotino (hotel and casino!) was responsible for my urge to hit the road. So perhaps I shall now give you a brief idea of the impression this 'classic' lump left with me...
Old fag odour. Patterned carpets. Gloomy lighting. Naff gold detailing. Ugly mozaic pillars. Gaudy ceiling murals. The whole of the main casino space was designed to conjure up images of desert palacial buildings with the ornate arches, but for me it was more likely to bring up something even less tastful. Slot machines created a cacophony of conflicting noises while the management clearly could not resist playing some background supermarket music at the same time. Frumpy waitresses tottered around with dishevelled outfits that looked more at home in a branch of Thomas Cook, while the odd unfortunate soul sat staring blankly at a row of spinning fruit with a cigarette hanging from their lips, hand poised ready for the next pull on the lever. And why are there so many couples wearing identical clothing?! It must have been 'two for the price of one' at Woolworths.
But the rooms.... mine was vast. So big in fact that I was able to go for a jog without even stepping out of the door. I could barely see the television from the bed! And yet it was so drab, the Sahara theme carried through with a grubby, sand coloured wallpaper, yellowed woodwork and a tiny pseudo-mahogany kitchenette. I managed to flood the latter as it seems that the plug hole in the sink is merely ornamental! The view from my window looked onto a wall... nothing but a large wall.... and not even an interesting wall. So the curtains were kept closed.
Perhaps you can understand why I was tempted to move on as we had planned. So after half an hour of trying to make up our minds my mother and I could come to no decent conclusion as to whether we should stay for another night. I used to be indecisive..... clearly this had not changed. Then suddenly I knew.... we had to get in the car and leave!
The bags were packed.... we were ready to go.... and then I changed my ming decisively! We would stay for one more night after all! Suddenly we were both happy with the decision, and to celebrate we did the same as the day before.... poodle around the local extensive shopping mall before making the most of the Sahara's one redeeming feature.... the great big pool. On getting a drink from the bar we discovered why mum been so enthusiastic about the lemonade she had had by the pool the day before.... it was laced with vodka!
By night we made for the Mandalay Palace at the far end of the main strip, fully intending to have a quick bite to eat before heading to the Bellagio for the 10.30pm performance of 'O'. As soon as we stepped in we both questioned our plans. The 'shall we, shan't we' started and suddenly we were thrown in to decision making turmoil. You see, the Mandalay was different to the other casinos in that you could immediately sense some character that the other themed and flashy rivals did not have. Unlike the rest we were not forced to walk through the jingle-jangle-wizz-ping of the casino and instead glided straight into the bar and restaurant area. The space had the feel of a large outdoor piazza with a cobbled street and chic bars and restaurants of all different styles on either side. there was a buzz to it and two of us knew that this was where we wanted to spend more time.
So in order to make our decision we had a beautiful glass of oaky chardonnay at the bar of the Italian restaurant.... and before we knew it we were having a great meal on the 'terrace'.... and ended up watching the some incredible break dancing in another square. At this point I must make mention of the white man in a suit who decided that he could take on the Mandalay's finest street dancers and threw himself at their feet for a dance off. When my mother told him how good he was he took an instant shine to her and gave her a huge, crooked, toothy grin with a slide of his lazy eye to add to the impact. Sometimes it is best to keep your thoughts to yourself ma.... oh dear.... well we did attempt to see a Las Vegas show at least!
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment