Waking up on our first morning in Vegas, we slept in quite late, mainly because we were out and about past 2am the previous night (which would’ve been 4am Minnesota time). Feeling quite ready for breakfast, Matt was eager to take me to the Pyramid Café in the Luxor, where he raved and raved about the pancakes they’ve got.
The walk between our temporary home at the Excalibur to the Luxor was a mere ten minutes or so, but as this was our first daylight-hours trek through the streets, it was the first time we got to really experience the glorious Las Vegas heat, solidly in the 80s and 90s all week (apart from our last day), and apparently warmer than usual this time of year, according to the locals. It just felt so good to be out and about in this magnificent weather.
The Luxor itself is quite a behemoth of a building standing 350 feet tall and measuring about 590 feet on each side of its square base (as far as I can tell from this handy resource). As we entered the building, two tall, giant seated statues that reminded me of the Colossi of Memnon (which, I believe, is the point) greeted us, both statues sitting upright, regal, and elegant. I also had to take a moment to marvel at the incredible size of the interior, especially when I thought about the architectural achievements of the engineering of this place. Much of the inside of the pyramid is a giant open space over 300 feet high, a magnificent pyramid-shaped atrium (although somewhat dimly lit), while hotel rooms line the square perimeter. But each floor above the previous is, of course, slightly smaller in area due to the very nature of a pyramid. And each floor has unobstructed views of the ground floor as visitors peer over the parapet along each terraced walkway. I don’t recall ever being in a structure quite like this. It was actually kind of remarkable.
We eventually arrived at the Pyramid Cafe, a large, open space on the ground level—very busy but well staffed, as I don’t recall waiting very long for a table. Our coffee soon arrived in a standard carafe that wouldn’t look out of place at a Perkins, and I remarked that the coffee was “surprisingly good,” as for some reason I was expecting to be disappointed by it. For our breakfasts, I decided to have chicken and waffles and Matt got biscuits and gravy and a pancake. I quite enjoyed my plate (even though a word I might use to describe it would be serviceable), while Matt seemed a little unimpressed by the biscuits and gravy, as it lacked any real semblance of noticeable protein. The pancake, however, was divine.
Following breakfast, we made our way upstairs to Titanic: The Artifact Exhibition. One thing that really surprised me about Vegas, I must say, is the amount of really quite good exhibits this town has to offer, the Titanic one included. Matt and I also both share a long, long fascination with this ship and its moment in time, so we both were inclined to enjoy the exhibit. But even those with a passing interest in the ship (or history in general) will also find this exhibit really very alluring.
Expertly curated and researched, the exhibit has numerous artifacts on display that were excavated from the wreck, including items that may have been mundane in 1912 but are now tantalizingly fascinating today (rivets, sections of rope, light fixtures, cutlery, dishes) to more unique items that provide a glimpse into the opulence of the ship (an unopened champagne bottle that miraculously survived decades under miles of water, an elegant window frame from the Verandah Café, a mostly complete set of stately channel letters spelling C D-E-C to label the walls of C deck). Also on display were some personal artifacts from passengers, including a shirt, a pair of boots, spectacles, and other items. (I joked to Matt going in that I will only be happy with this exhibit if I see some boots and some spectacles.)
A real highlight of the whole visit, however, was the Big Piece, which is a giant section of hull from the starboard side, measuring 26.5 feet by 12 feet and weighing 15 tons, raised from the wreck in 1998 using large rubber balloons filled with diesel. Visible on the piece is the exacting rivet work that dotted the ship in geometric patterns as well as portholes that belonged to two cabins on C deck. It was just really quite remarkable standing before this incredible section of the ship, difficult to believe that it once belonged to the liner (and isn’t a fake recreation like so much of Vegas) and survived so many decades in such an inhospitable environment. I just can’t recommend enough how cool this whole exhibit is!
Following the exhibit, we briefly went back to our hotel room at the Excalibur to book some things for Monday’s trip to downtown Vegas (which I’ll write about in the next post), and then we started another excursion along the Strip. This time we headed all the way south along Las Vegas Boulevard for a 30 minute walk to—what I liked to call—”that goddamn sign,” the famous one that declares, “Welcome to Fabulous Las Vegas.” It seems a little silly, but you kind of have to got to go see this sign at least once in your life. It’s just one of those icons that are a requirement. And while I felt silly making my way there and taking a moment to view it (a long queue of people waiting to take their own selfie in front of it), when we arrived, it was actually really special to see: the elongated diamond shape, its 1950s typeface, a gaudy star crowning the top. So, do make your way to this goddamn sign if you can.
We next made our way back north along the Strip for a marathon 3.5-mile walk all the way to the Erotic Heritage Museum, where—quite on a whim, booking the tickets last minute—we decided to attend a particularly infamous show, which I will write about in due course. Along the way, however, we stopped at a bar in the casino in Mandalay Bay, a resort with a tropical theme, but I don’t think I necessarily noticed the theme when we were there, as my memory of the place only recalls “generic casino theme.” But we only really visited the casino, so that’s probably why I didn’t really pick up on anything discernible.
When we sat down at a table at the casino’s main bar, I asked if they had a specialty cocktail list, and the waitress’s response was, “We’re a 24-hour bar, but we can make anything,” so we ordered a pair of old fashioneds. As we enjoyed the drinks, I continued to be fascinated with the sensory overload of these casinos: gambling devices displaying bursts of crude, garish colors and blaring intrusive electronic arpeggiations; endlessly carpeted floors of generic geometric shapes; the ever-present vague whiff of stale cigarette smoke sullying the air; whoops and cheers of gamblers defeating the odds; music pumping loudly and continuously on an infinite loop.
Clearly I didn’t have enough of the casino, as we continued to make our way north to stop at Excalibur’s casino. I had a rule going into the damn place that I would take $20 to a machine, lose it all (probably within five minutes), and then stop playing. So, that’s exactly what I did. I sat down at a traditional slot machine with actual, physical rotating reels displaying vulgarly showy images of the number seven, the word “BAR,” and other images I can’t remember, complete with an actual lever to pull… none of this touch-screen business. On my first pull, I miraculously won $10. But this, as they say, is how they get you: instill you with a feeling of luck so that you might win another $10. But, alas, it was all downhill from there, as each successive pull of the lever returned diminishing, er, returns. So, defeated, we left, but this isn’t quite the end of the gambling saga quite yet. More to come in later posts.
Before we continued onwards and northwards to the Erotic Heritage Museum, we stopped at a fast food taco joint called Baja Fresh (I always wanted to call it tacos frescos), in the Excalibur to grab a quick bite to eat. Baja Fresh is a fast food chain unavailable in Minnesota (I usually have a no-fast-food rule when traveling), but I was eager to see what Mexican food was like at a place like this located a little closer to the southern border. The verdict is: it’s fine. Maybe substandardly fine. It was serviceable. The salsa bar was disappointingly bland, the so-called “hot” salsas barely causing any intense sensations of heat—more a sleeping, drowsy suggestion of zing meant for white people who think yellow mustard at a ballpark is too spicy.
We eventually carried on with our long walk to the Erotic Heritage Museum. “Very cattley,” Matt remarked, referring to the pace and density of the foot traffic. And, indeed, it was quite slow and lumbering, like cattle moving through a fenced bottleneck in the pasture. Don’t expect to walk anywhere fast when walking the Strip, especially during peak hours. Remarkably, however, once you veer off the strip even just a little bit, the traffic disappears very quickly, and it becomes difficult to believe that such commotion is mere footsteps away.
At long last we arrived at the Erotic Heritage Museum where we—perhaps against our better judgment—decided to attend, er, Puppetry of the Penis. If you’ve never heard of this ridiculous show, the title says it all: it is, indeed, a show where totally naked men use their penises as puppets. I suppose we went because one of the recommendations my brother gave when I asked him about what to do in Vegas was to attend some kind of adult-themed show. So, this is what we ended up with. (“Whatever you go to will be horrible, but it will give you something to talk about years later,” he said.)
Performed all around the world, the show originated in Melbourne in the late 1990s by comedy producer Simon Morley and puppeteer David Friend. The version we saw in Vegas featured two performers, Jamie and Andrew (and I’m sorry… I only caught their first names, and Google searches yield little clues as to their full identities), who initially came out wearing flashy ponchos that covered most of their bodies. After they teasingly warning that, yes, we are about to see full frontal male nudity, they stripped completely, and the show began in earnest.
While initially I found myself laughing along as the two naked men quipped and joked to introduce whatever it was they were about to do with their penises (turning it into an Eiffel Tower, making it look like a blinking eye, manipulating it to appear like a hamburger, tucking it behind their legs and pretending to be Buffalo Bill from Silence of the Lambs), after awhile the novelty of it all wore off, seeing two naked men on stage doing ridiculous things with their penises. I honestly don’t remember much more than what I’m recounting now. After all, how much can a man really do with his penis to maintain audience interest for 60 minutes? So, it was all good harmless fun, but I can’t honestly say I’ll ever attend this show ever again. (Even Matt, some days after we got back, remarked that he had already forgotten that we had gone. So maybe we won’t have something to talk about for years to come.)
After the show, we made our long walk back to the Excalibur, walking through the Wynn (“Everyone in this resort seems so much more wealthy,” Matt remarked); catching a glimpse of the Sphere, all lit up in vibrant colors as it displayed ads for Ben and Jerry’s ice cream; taking a moment to enjoy views of the canals of the Venetian, its waters appearing a vibrant blue-green as it shimmered in the Vegas lights; until finally we walked past the Bellagio, its fountains dancing in long arcs and erupting in tall, powerful geysers. “Gosh, those fountains make loud, rumbling sounds as they explode out of the water!” I remember enthusiastically observing.
We eventually arrived back at the Excalibur, and our feet were angry with pain, the amount of walking we did in a single day causing them to scream out in agony. That said, we still had energy to stop by Cocolini, a no-frills gelato joint on the ground floor, where we took our gelatos back to our room, enjoyed them, and quickly fell asleep, as our next morning involved much to do off the Strip in a part of town that ended up being my favorite of all the places we went: Fremont Street and downtown Vegas.
Stray observations:
- Over breakfast, I believe, was the first time I coined the term gambling device when referring to slot machines and other instruments of chance to lose money (as I couldn’t think of the term slot machine). This topic came up when Matt recalled the existence of a Doctor Who gambling device. A google search reveals that such a machine exists, but we were unable to track one down.
- During the Titanic exhibit, Matt and I also enjoyed an area that recreated the first class grand staircase. And—for $20 extra—of course we took advantage of the photo opportunity. (We didn’t pose like Jack and Rose in the film, though. Maybe a miss there.)
- Vegas may be cheap to fly to (I think we spent $150 each round trip, which actually is on the higher end), but it is expensive once you get here. Even fast food joints are outrageously priced. However, if you’re in the mood for a cocktail but don’t want to spend $20 for one drink, go visit these shops they have in each of the resorts that sell snacks, nick-nacks, and booze, including cocktails in a can. However, they won’t list prices on any booze, so feel free to ask the clerk how much things cost before you buy. The canned cocktails, for example, ran about $8, but small bottles of champagne were in the $50 range.
- The opener for Puppetry of the Penis was comedian Kristeen von Hagen, whose set was quite enjoyable and got us sufficiently excited for the evening’s performance. I remember a particularly funny bit where she talked about dick pics, and how she always finds them unwelcome, shrieking a blood-curdling scream as the images appear on her screen.
- Matt pointed out that Trinity the Tuck—a famous drag queen, apparently—was also in the audience during Puppetry of the Penis. An avid Drag Race fan, Matt was overjoyed when Trinity accidentally stepped on his shoe lace, necessitating him to re-tie it. “I had to re-tie my shoelace because of Trinity the Tuck!” he gleefully exclaimed.
- One of the last things we saw as we walked back to the Excalibur after the show was a disused, abandoned section of the strip where the immense size of these resorts became easier to comprehend. You see, when all the lights and frills and facades and fake castles and phony towers are removed, it’s easier to gauge the sense of scale: they really are just giant warehouses, immense convention centers, buildings of unusual size.