by Royal M. Hopper III AKA Royale
Its amazing just how full city streets can become when the hotels that inhabit it are full sex toys, porn stars, and 7000 kinds of electronic gadgets of every shape, size and kind.
The kind of dogs people remind me of
To keep myself busy when Im working by classifying convention goers by what kind of dog they remind me of.
Two days after the Porn convention left town people were still walking up to hotel employees and asking where Adult Con is. There are generally four kinds of Porn Show patrons who represent three kids of human/canine hybrids.
One I call the woohoo crowd. Essentially drunk and stupid pretty types with vacuous eyes and a lost happy look who pump their fists and high five each other on the way to the convention center like horny Cocker Spaniels loud but harmless and as I said before kind of stupid.
There is always one drunken Cocker Spaniel shouting “Vegas Baby” like its something no other Cocker Spaniel has ever said before being kept on their feet by a long suffering friend or sibling.
The players or wannabe players. They stand out because the ten foot tall security guards hired to police the event stop them at the door. They are like giant Labrador retrievers quirky, hyper and kind of fun in a bizarre 70s B-movie kind of way being faced down by stolid panting overweight Pitt Bulls.
Lastly there is the guys who even make seasoned Sin City Security guards a little nervous.
They giggle a little and squint at you like the light hurts their eyes when they ask directions to the Porn show like giant, stoned bisexual Chihuahuas.
They look at you like they might ask you for a date, not because they are gay but because the narcotics they used before coming to the casino are making it difficult for them to tell the difference and they haven slept for three days.
Also one of the features of the City of Sin are sidewalk meetings you see across the breadth of the city mostly, but not entirely, in the less than spiffy parts of town. Sometimes the meeting are sitting sometimes standing but they are everywhere you look.
Downtown it might feature a motley group of domestically challenged nomads clad in dirty charity hand me downs munching on donated leftovers and day old Twinkies from who knows wher , a day laborer and two of his buddies eating their convenience store breakfasts and some one I named Freaky Fred who even scares the bikers who stop by the street corner to roust this sidewalk breakfast meeting club that is cramping their meth dealing style and are spooked away by Freaky Fred or his smell and the conversation he was having with his Twinkie h e held in his hand. This was a sitting meeting.
The laborer who I’m guessing had seen much worse in old Mexico continued munching on his ageless yellow wrapped breakfast thingie or it could have simply been a hotdog I couldn‘t tell.
However I firmly believe that after the apocalypse in the last convenience
An unknown entrepreneur peddles maps and directions and assorted good will on the
Vegas strip last week during the beginning of the Sin City Convention Season
store open for business there will be a handful of cockroaches, a Twinkie and one of those hotdogs still slowly turning on the roaster and an unnamed breakfast sandwich sitting neatly wrapped in insanely generic yellow paper wait.
The City of Sin Missing
Lastly I cant tell how many people who go missing are last seen here in the Vegas Valley area. For some reason people come here to gamble, drink, do other things and to disappear. If you want to be swallowed up by the urban landscape and your smart enough to not run naked through a casino or rob a drug dealer on your way to get gas all people will see of you after you bolt is grainy security footage video and a poster on someone’s wall near a stack of posters of other people who are being looked for.
Sometimes they get found but not usually
Such is Life in the City of Sin
Til Next week