Las Vegas : Deadwood in the Sin City

What would I do in Las Vegas? Gamble? Naah. Lady Luck doesn't smile too often on me and I sure did not want to see slot machines gobbling my hard-earned money. Booze? Water is my favorite drink and not a drop of alcohol runs in my genes. Showgirls? I am straight so those never-ending legs and voluptuousness spilling out of the skimpiest of clothes do nothing to me. Sleaze? It draws a blank in my rather virginal vocabulary.

"Packing for Las Vegas?" My friends smirked, I could read sneer in their crooked smile. "What a waste! You'll be such a deadwood there." There came another warped grin.

Ha! Deadwood in the Sin City! A waste in the City of Sleaze! I fought these epithets bravely, but when I sat in silence and thought about it, I conceded defeat. They were right. What would I do in Las Vegas? Gamble? Naah. Lady Luck doesn't smile too often on me and I sure did not want to see slot machines gobbling my hard-earned money. Booze? Water is my favorite drink and not a drop of alcohol runs in my genes. Showgirls? I am straight so those never-ending legs and voluptuousness spilling out of the skimpiest of clothes do nothing to me. Sleaze? It draws a blank in my rather virginal vocabulary.

So why was I going? I was going, so I would go, I thumped. Before I drove the first mile I did make an effort to get rid of the deadwood image - I had my niece braid my hair, I fished out my stockings, pulled my mules and slinky tops, shrugged aside my hermit-like stance, slid Lionel Richie in the car's music system and exhaled! Las Vegas, here I come.

Las Vegas is definitely not a morning city; while the sun is there it lies dead and deserted. And I am only talking about the 3.5 mile stretch that is the real Vegas - opulent hotels with breathtaking facades are lined up on both sides, there's the world's tallest free-standing structure, the largest gift shop, the biggest bill board, the highest roller coaster, a volcano spitting lava and pirates on the prowl; just about everything is catchy and makes your head turn. During the day, Vegas lives the night's hangover - there are pamphlets of sleazy shows stomped by thousands of footfalls, there are men in daze and hotel employees hurrying home, fountains looking tired after all the night's work and showgirls out of skimpy clothes and into something that covers their beautiful toned bodies.

When in Vegas, the best thing to do is to turn your body clock upside down. Sleep during the day, as I did. And when I peeped out of my 13th floor $ 20 a night room, I thought of gangster Bugsy Seigel. Think 1945, think Vegas. It was then just an ordinary small town living its ordinariness in a desert, till gangster Bugsy gave it the first touch of makeover by constructing the its first hotel-casino. Hotel Flamingo opened in 1945 and that moment changed the character of Vegas forever. Without him, Vegas would have continued to be an ordinary toad that never turned into a prince.

When evening came, sleep and the thought of Bugsy deserted me. The neon lights were calling and I rearranged my braids, squeezed into my slinky top, slid into my mules, jingled some coins in my purse and took to the streets. I started walking on the famous strip, amused by the interplay of glitz and mimicry everywhere - Hotel Paris Las Vegas has a huge replica of the Eiffel Tower, the Luxor resort has a 10-storied Great Sphinx and 30-storied Egyptian pyramid, Mandalay Bay looks straight out of a Disney movie, while the MGM Grand has a real lion in a glass cage. Rivers have been carved in the desert for the gondoliers and a shopping mall has an artificial morning sky for a roof - there's never darkness there, the lobby of Hotel Bellagio has a ceiling decked with glass flowers and yes, there are those beautiful dancing fountains. When they dance on the hour, they look like swirling ballerinas. That perhaps is the most beautiful sight in Vegas.

My eyes were soon tired with the innumerable eye candies so I decided to play some games. In Circus Circus, I tried dismantling cans in one stroke and throwing hoops around tiny gifts. There were people clutching tens of toys as prizes, I just managed a little brown monkey. And when I went gambling, I could hear coins jingling out of several slots, I made a $ 2.50 with a 25 cents investment. Hey not bad! That's 10 times the investment. What if I had put a $100 bill? Imagine 10 times that! The greedier I got the stingier the slot machine became. I came out of the casino poorer by $ 10 and vowed never to enter one again.

As I walked out of the casino I bumped into a turbaned swami who was predicting the tomorrows for 50 cents. Okay, he was not real, it was an automated swami caged in what resembled a vending machine. I slid 50 cents, the swami mumbled something. I could not figure out my tomorrow because whatever the swami uttered seemed Greek or garbled or both.

By this time my stomach was growling and headed straight into a restaurant that was offering a buffet dinner for $ 10. Inside there were people pigging on so much food that it would have fed a hungry nation; the spread was not only lavish the choices were mind-boggling - boiled sweet corn, rice in orange sauce, grilled meat, steamed prawns, octopus salad, smoked salmon…. I lost count. I fed on garlic bread and macaroni and soon could feel the eyelids drooping. It was well past midnight; Las Vegas was just about warming up. My legs were giving away and my eyes were squinting with the lights. There were showgirls in another corner… But I walked back, loosened my braids and curled up in a Queen's bed. And no, I did not dream of sleaze.

Perhaps my friends were right. Maybe I was deadwood in the Sin City! A waste in the City of Sleaze! Maybe.

Published in Sun magazine, March 2005

Contact: Preeti@deepblueink.com