By Royal Hopper
What do you say when you are sitting 100 feet from the front doors of a prominent Las Vegas casino and someone walks up to you and asks in all seriousness…Do you have front doors ??????
“Yes,” I said pointing toward the fifteen or so shiny glass and brass doors 200 feet across about fifty or so feet away from where I was sitting.
Working on some night moves early morning in the City of Sin
This week I will talk about the usual stuff, drunkenness and the like, but I would also like to talk about a quiet kind of weirdness not often associated with the City of Sin, the kind of weirdness people in the normal world might relate more to, the kind found not in a smoky casino full of gamblers, dancing daisies and women of the evening, but the kind that comes from spending a half hour in a Las Vegas area DMV.
I don’t mean Dogs and Men love Vines or Deadly Mechanical Vehicles or Demented Mercurial Violators I mean a half an hour in that infamous pit of weirdness that is a Las Vegas area Department of Motor Vehicles.
Lets start with the man with the pink turban, probably a Sikh gentleman renewing his drivers license who sat quietly and unmolested in the vicinity of a androgynous gentleman /lady””” with a receding hairline and braids trailing down her/his back. ( I don’t judge but I do write about it).
There was a young woman I will call LA chic after her LA style duds rocked a subdued version of the celebrate the 80s giant Anime doll look that seems so popular these days.
There was the rough looking young( well she was younger than me anyway) woman who sneered at me for holding my wife’s hand. (It was the day before her birthday and I was making brownie points sue me) and then French Kissed her neighbor, who similarly was a she.
Now there is nothing wrong with two women kissing in fact in was kind of hot (I’m a guy sue me) but if you are going to French kiss your neighbor don’t’ sneer at me for a little g-rated hand holding.
In fifteen minute wait to renew the tags on my ancient GMC truck I saw just as much weirdness in the local DMV as I saw all week on the infamous strip. It was like being at the UN on a Saturday when everybody had nothing to do but sit and wait.
Now back to Las Vegas Boulevard
The debris from Electric Daisy Carnival literally piled up in the casino lost and found offices. As the daisies left town they left behind their hats, medicines of all kinds, purses, wallets full of multiple IDs some of them real, feathers, bags of abandoned snacks, tassels, brownies and cookies that smelled of oregano and stuffed animals of all kinds and the occasional pair of neon underwear.
The day after the Daisies left and the casino was nearly empty I spied a man marching across the casino floor holding what looked like a small toilet with a clever saying on the side. He was marching and singing a drunken casino marching song while he cradled his plastic toilet full of cheap liquor like a soldier holding his rifle in a parade.
Just across the casino his equally inebriated friend made time with both of the women they had been hanging out with while he drew sidelong glances from the few lonely souls and older married couples popping dollar bills in a Las Vegas slot machine at 6 a.m. on a Thursday.
It’s all about priorities I guess. Sometimes marching a straight line with your plastic toilet just takes priority over keeping your friend from hitting on your woman.
Some Sin City tourists seek to escape attention like the man who fainted and threw up in the middle of his marital vows at his wedding in a local casino. The man who was 50-years-of -age was standing at the alter when the moment got the better of him and he decided worshiping Earl and passing out was more important that getting married. An ambulance had to be called for the man who had incidentally spent all night the previous night drinking. One can only imagine what the prospective bride thought about all this and what she said to him once he regained consciousness.
Vegas is where you go to indulge the ID.
As I have said before Vegas is dedicated to the Monsters of the ID like in the old B-Movie of B-Movies Forbidden Planet. In this B-Movie of B-movies the crew of a spaceship steps onto the surface of an alien planet spouting 50s jargon, smoking Pall Malls and sporting well oiled hair only to find themselves attacked by monsters created from their own subconscious by powerful alien machines that destroyed their alien creators in an orgy of psychically created monsters from the minds of the crew. Las Vegas is a place that caters to the monsters of the Id (that’s Id as in Freud) where have I heard that before.
If you believe Freud monsters from that part of the human brain want and never wonder why or how much or when…it just knows hunger and seeks to feed that hunger anyway it can.
Those that hunger for attention wear strange clothes or very little, dress like cartoon characters posing for rent money or dress like Elvis because its Tuesday and its what Elvis would do on Tuesday or the Miley Cyrus look alike I saw stumbling into the elevator of a local hotel toward the end of the Electric Daisy Carnival. That was a look alike right Miley ???? I mean she looked like you and that neon bikini showed off far more of her skin than I could ever could have seen on an episode of Hannah Montana
(okay I have a 16-year old daughter so I have seen a few episodes. Thankfully she, my daughter I mean, is now really into old metal and actually asks me questions I know the answer too..) Ooooohhh I feel like a celebrity gossip columnist somebody get me a poison pen.
Who knows what Id monsters the woman running down Las Vegas Boulevard in a black bikini this week was thinking or it could be she was running from the group of motorized scooters that were barreling down the street nearby.
In other places even youth gets tired of partying and indulging the Id but here not so much. The pleasure center of the brain never thinks or decides or wonders or considers consequence it just wants and it wants right away and that is what this city thrives on.
Such is Life in the City of Sin
Til next week
Joggers report: This week there was little in the way of notable jogging activity. Except for the man with hair down to his waist and a three Musketeers goatee. No pretense here he was jogging down the street in a red concert T-shirt and a pair of long bouncy red hair metal jogging pants???? Perhaps he was a member of a Hair Metal band getting in shape for the big reunion tour or someone who saw a picture of Dad’s glory days from the 1986 Hair Metal Festival or perhaps he is just a color blind fitness nut from Germany who never quite got the message that Hair Metal faded from glory sometime around 1991. Also more and more people who should never be naked are being seen running down the boulevard barely clad …Iggghh my eyes my eyes ….ahhhhh