Las Vegas Through My Eyes - Part IV

The next morning I left for my new home in California. But I now had a soft spot in my heart for Las Vegas. It was a place of unrivaled unreality, yet at the same time it was very real. It was an escape from the everyday where anyone could feel exuberant and glamorous – even become someone else for a few days, perhaps a Roman Emperor.

Over the next few years, living in California, my younger brother served as my roommate and best friend. An airline executive today, he was a car salesman at the time often working what he called “bell to bell”, meaning twelve hour days – sometimes longer. It was a job he was not ultimately cut out to do because his only interest was in providing customers with the best value and this was not the most lucrative way to operate. I was making a small hourly wage reviewing closed mortgage packages. From there I went on to become a waiter at a coffee shop. Neither of us ever had much money to spend and we often had days off together during the middle of the week when car dealerships and restaurants were less busy.

We looked forward each week to the Sunday L.A. Times which always had a section devoted to Las Vegas in it. There was usually some inconsequential fluff story about Las Vegas that was followed by advertisements for cheap hotel rooms. It was the first page we turned to and sometimes the only page we read.

Las Vegas was full of incredible deals. We stayed in suites at the Rio for $39.00. We stayed at Bally’s for $25.00 per night. We stayed everywhere a deal was to be had, developing a list of favorites as we went. Perhaps the best deal we ever scored was a room at Whiskey Pete’s on the California/Nevada border for $16.00 per night. When we arrived, we marveled at the brand new hotel rooms at Whiskey Pete’s, complete with shower gel – a new relatively concoction. We laughed as I insisted that my brother give me his $8.00 to compensate me for his half of the room, as if I was a gangster collecting on a large debt. Each time we went to Las Vegas we were amazed to find that the hotels clean, more than comfortable, and sometimes downright luxurious compared to our simple apartment.

We were the kings of the coupon books. We had loyalty to no particular casino and would go wherever we could eat and drink the cheapest, scanning all the marquees carefully for food and drink specials. We could eat so much food at a buffet that we swore the casino would have to turn out a light or two to recoup their profits. Along the way, we discovered that no matter how inexpensive, some buffets were not worth the price of entry. The cheapest buffet we ever found was a breakfast buffet for 99 cents. The buffet hostess gave us a number and promised to call us to our table shortly. We passed our time each losing $10.00 worth of quarters in a video blackjack machine. Once seated in the buffet we were disappointed to find cold food prepared without any care for its appearance or flavor. Our disgusting breakfast had cost us each $11.00. As we left that buffet feeling taken advantage of, my brother remarked, “I will not eat green eggs and ham.” That line became our mantra in the years to come as we sought only value for our money, rather than rock bottom prices. From that day on, we often enjoyed the breakfast buffet at Caesars Palace with its freshly squeezed juice, custom-made omelets, crispy bacon, and $5.99 price tag – no waiting.

Over the years, we became part of a tourist subculture that came to Las Vegas to take advantage of its cheap rooms, plentiful buffets, and free drinks. We slept in suites with floor-to-ceiling Strip views at the Rio. We sipped drinks in the Mahogony lined bar on the 34th floor of the Landmark. We drove down Glitter Gulch, marveling at the lights of The Mint. We took advantage of the spas and pools. We always came home rested and we often spent less than $100.00 each on an entire trip. We knew who had the best rooms, the best food, the cheapest drinks, and the lowest blackjack minimums. Las Vegas had become not only an escape from reality but also a way for two average Joes to unwind and feel like something better than average, if only for a short time. It was a place where we could go and forget about serving food and selling cars. It was a welcome respite from the daily drone of life. And then a man named Steve Wynn came along.

To be continued…