Hollywood discovered Las Vegas. Maybe celebrities had always been a part of the Las Vegas landscape, but not the most popular ones. Nightclubs began to open all over town, turning the Strip into one giant "Studio 54". For some reason, any nightclub with more than one word in its name was unacceptable. Perhaps it was because clubs were opening so quickly that there just wasn't time to build a sign with a second word in the name. Light, Pure, Rain, and Blush replaced the once hip Bachannal Room. Paris Hilton and Britney Spears replaced Steve and Eydie Gorme and were routinely paid six figure fees just to show up and draw publicity for an evening.
Private jets crowded the airport runways, room rates skyrocketed, and twenty dollar bottles of liquor were sold for two hundred. Suddenly, the Strip was no longer a place where anyone could afford to escape the daily grind. The middle class was no longer welcome, or at least that's the way it felt to me. Everything became at once grander than ever, but completely off limits to those of us who work for a living. We were left standing on the sidewalks gazing at the fountains unable to afford to go inside.
The same thing happened to the suburban scenery. Developers blasted away more and more of the hillsides to build mansions. The cost of housing had become unattainable. Safeway was replaced by Whole Foods. And people whose idea of "off-road" was the driveway, suddenly began to consider driving an Escalade or a Hummer as a necessity.
Paul and I began to feel like Las Vegas had become exactly the thing that we had moved there to escape. Traffic was miserable. Prices were astronomical. Life had become an uphill battle and it was clear to us that the house of cards that built Las Vegas was about to fall. We sold our house and after two years of soul searching have relocated to Denver.
On a recent visit to Las Vegas, I found myself sitting beside an older woman who like us, had become a regular fixture at the casino bar we used to frequent. I asked her how she was doing and the look on her face was devastating. Her husband, a project manager for the biggest hotel developer in town, was soon to be out of work. The value of their house had plummeted to its lowest level in ten years. Their 401k had been nearly wiped out. Tears began to well up in her eyes and she said, "We're sixty six years old and we've lost everything. We'll never be able to retire." I was overcome by sadness, not only for my bar acquaintance, but also because the city that won my heart had come apart at the seams.The city had done to its citizens what it had once reserved only for its visitors. It had fooled them into believing that fantasy was reality and it took their money while they were too busy staring at the lights.
Mark my words, one day soon Las Vegas will be back. It will completely reinvent itself, perhaps once again into a destination where the common man can be treated like a king. I look forward to returning to the city that I love, to gaze at it's blinding lights and feel it's electricity coursing through me while simultaneously being soothed by it's warm desert breezes.
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
Las Vegas Through My Eyes - Part VIII
As the baby boom continued in Las Vegas, it seemed there was nowhere left to go without having your heels nipped by strollers. Thankfully, during the late 1990's, it was Steve Wynn once again to the rescue with a new project he called, "Beau Rivage". The project was to be Las Vegas' first truly upscale hotel and the most expensive to construct to-date. The hotel was built to resemble a lakefront Italian village. Inside, there was an arboretum, an art gallery, and enough fine dining to please any foodie. Eventually, the project was renamed Bellagio. It opened on a windy night and its famous fountains drenched the tuxedo-wearing VIP's who attended its private opening (much to my delight).
It was a sea of tranquility amidst an ocean of chaos. Paul and I often wandered its casino during the quiet evening midweek hours. I can't remember ever playing any of their games, but I remember early breakfasts in the coffee shop overlooking the arboretum and live music performances in its lounges, all for the cost of an admittedly overpriced cocktail.
Sure the Bellagio had art and plants and mood lighting, but there was a lack of something here that was even more apparent to me than what it had. There were no children. In fact, the hotel would not allow any visitors under the age of eighteen to enter its doors unless they were registered guests. The only shrieking I ever heard inside Bellagio was that of a slot player hitting a jackpot, not the shrill scream of child who had just soiled themselves.
Other hotels quickly took notice and a new building boom was underway. The Four Seasons, The Ritz Carlton, and expansions of existing properties, and new undertakings like the Venetian with all-suite facilities and top notch spas began to open. This new trend of understated elegance eventually trickled all the way down to the locals casinos which were no longer considered to be complete without a centerpiece bar and at least one fine dining restaurant, if not three.
The money continued to flood into Las Vegas. It was no longer the exclusive playground of the the McGuire sisters and their aged friends. Celebrities that people have actually heard of began to move in. Swanky neighborhoods were constructed as quickly as possible. Construction companies began to use dynamite to carve the hillsides in an effort to give every buyer a view of the Strip in the valley below. We sometimes attended open houses in these neighborhoods to get interior decorating ideas and to marvel at the walls of sliding glass that separated their gigantic living areas from the roman spa-like swimming pools, their home theaters, and their private wine cellars.
Suddenly it was okay to tell strangers that we were from Las Vegas. We were no longer greeted with eye rolls and snickers. Instead we were more likely to get approving smiles and envious head bobs. Las Vegas had finally begun to grow up. But then something happened.
To be continued...
It was a sea of tranquility amidst an ocean of chaos. Paul and I often wandered its casino during the quiet evening midweek hours. I can't remember ever playing any of their games, but I remember early breakfasts in the coffee shop overlooking the arboretum and live music performances in its lounges, all for the cost of an admittedly overpriced cocktail.
Sure the Bellagio had art and plants and mood lighting, but there was a lack of something here that was even more apparent to me than what it had. There were no children. In fact, the hotel would not allow any visitors under the age of eighteen to enter its doors unless they were registered guests. The only shrieking I ever heard inside Bellagio was that of a slot player hitting a jackpot, not the shrill scream of child who had just soiled themselves.
Other hotels quickly took notice and a new building boom was underway. The Four Seasons, The Ritz Carlton, and expansions of existing properties, and new undertakings like the Venetian with all-suite facilities and top notch spas began to open. This new trend of understated elegance eventually trickled all the way down to the locals casinos which were no longer considered to be complete without a centerpiece bar and at least one fine dining restaurant, if not three.
The money continued to flood into Las Vegas. It was no longer the exclusive playground of the the McGuire sisters and their aged friends. Celebrities that people have actually heard of began to move in. Swanky neighborhoods were constructed as quickly as possible. Construction companies began to use dynamite to carve the hillsides in an effort to give every buyer a view of the Strip in the valley below. We sometimes attended open houses in these neighborhoods to get interior decorating ideas and to marvel at the walls of sliding glass that separated their gigantic living areas from the roman spa-like swimming pools, their home theaters, and their private wine cellars.
Suddenly it was okay to tell strangers that we were from Las Vegas. We were no longer greeted with eye rolls and snickers. Instead we were more likely to get approving smiles and envious head bobs. Las Vegas had finally begun to grow up. But then something happened.
To be continued...
Monday, March 2, 2009
And Then There's Maude
Those of you who have been reading my blog for a while may remember that I was required by the mortgage company to sell my beloved blue sports car in order to qualify for the loan on this place. If you don't remember this, I urge you to take notes as you read. You never know when there may be a quiz.
Since then, Paul and I have been sharing one car, which is fine because we only have a 1-car garage anyway. Also, we are just a five minute walk from the nearest light rail station for those times when we may not have the car available. This worked out okay for a short time, but I grew tired of carpooling with Paul as his daily start time is 6:30 am. Those of you who know Paul will understand that if his start time is at 6:30, then he wants to arrive by 6:00. I don't know what takes place between 6:00 and 6:30 in that office every morning as none of his other coworkers ever arrived that early. Whatever it is, it is apparently important enough to drag us out of bed every morning at 4:30am .
Last week, I felt I had had enough sleep deprivation and decided to figure this train thing out. It turns out that I can grab a train in the morning at 6:55 and still be to work by 7:30, giving me an extra hour to sleep. Unfortunately a transfer to a bus is required and let's face it - I'm not a bus person. Nevertheless, this past Saturday I bought a monthly transit pass to save a few bucks on my daily commute. I had resigned myself to riding the bus and was even thinking of wearing Walmart bags for shoes like some of the other passengers I have seen at bus stops.
On Sunday, we were invited to take a drive up to Idaho Springs, a quaint mountain town, to have breakfast with my father and his wife. The plan was that we would all ride together in their car which is a comfortable Lexus SUV. Instead, they showed up in their 1998 Mercedes E320, a car they purchased new and have babied ever since. We thought it was odd that they brought the Mercedes, but they don't drive it much these days and we just thought they wanted to stretch its legs and let it breathe as it spends most of its time all cooped up in their garage.
Even stranger was the fact that they were insistent that we do the driving. We tried to talk them into taking our SUV as there is plenty of room for all, but they were oddly insistent so we gave in, piled into the Mercedes and headed for the mountains.
When we arrived at our favorite restaurant, I tried to return the keys to my father so he could drive for the rest of the day, but he refused to take the key. Instead he said something to the effect of, "Keep the key. It's your car now." My jaw dropped and we tried to refuse, but they kept insisting that they no longer had any use for the car since, unbeknownst to us, they had decided to buy a gorgeus new sedan the day before we all got together. Eventually, we gave in and accepted the car.
By today, we finally got used to the fact that the Mercedes was ours. The car has a button for everything - even lowering the rear head rests. I drove the car to work today trying to get used to all those buttons embossed with their puzzling German symbols. She's not nimble and she isn't young, but she is a fierce German frauline for sure. Paul has decided that the car's name is Maude; a German name meaning "strong in battle". Maude told me on the way home today that she has always wanted to go to Las Vegas. "We'll see Maude, we'll see. Now put your rear headrests down."
Since then, Paul and I have been sharing one car, which is fine because we only have a 1-car garage anyway. Also, we are just a five minute walk from the nearest light rail station for those times when we may not have the car available. This worked out okay for a short time, but I grew tired of carpooling with Paul as his daily start time is 6:30 am. Those of you who know Paul will understand that if his start time is at 6:30, then he wants to arrive by 6:00. I don't know what takes place between 6:00 and 6:30 in that office every morning as none of his other coworkers ever arrived that early. Whatever it is, it is apparently important enough to drag us out of bed every morning at 4:30am .
Last week, I felt I had had enough sleep deprivation and decided to figure this train thing out. It turns out that I can grab a train in the morning at 6:55 and still be to work by 7:30, giving me an extra hour to sleep. Unfortunately a transfer to a bus is required and let's face it - I'm not a bus person. Nevertheless, this past Saturday I bought a monthly transit pass to save a few bucks on my daily commute. I had resigned myself to riding the bus and was even thinking of wearing Walmart bags for shoes like some of the other passengers I have seen at bus stops.
On Sunday, we were invited to take a drive up to Idaho Springs, a quaint mountain town, to have breakfast with my father and his wife. The plan was that we would all ride together in their car which is a comfortable Lexus SUV. Instead, they showed up in their 1998 Mercedes E320, a car they purchased new and have babied ever since. We thought it was odd that they brought the Mercedes, but they don't drive it much these days and we just thought they wanted to stretch its legs and let it breathe as it spends most of its time all cooped up in their garage.
Even stranger was the fact that they were insistent that we do the driving. We tried to talk them into taking our SUV as there is plenty of room for all, but they were oddly insistent so we gave in, piled into the Mercedes and headed for the mountains.
When we arrived at our favorite restaurant, I tried to return the keys to my father so he could drive for the rest of the day, but he refused to take the key. Instead he said something to the effect of, "Keep the key. It's your car now." My jaw dropped and we tried to refuse, but they kept insisting that they no longer had any use for the car since, unbeknownst to us, they had decided to buy a gorgeus new sedan the day before we all got together. Eventually, we gave in and accepted the car.
By today, we finally got used to the fact that the Mercedes was ours. The car has a button for everything - even lowering the rear head rests. I drove the car to work today trying to get used to all those buttons embossed with their puzzling German symbols. She's not nimble and she isn't young, but she is a fierce German frauline for sure. Paul has decided that the car's name is Maude; a German name meaning "strong in battle". Maude told me on the way home today that she has always wanted to go to Las Vegas. "We'll see Maude, we'll see. Now put your rear headrests down."
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