North America Trip Parts 10, 11 & 12: It's Got So Many People But It's Got No Soul

I awoke on Friday morning trying to piece my previous day together. It had been an interesting day and evening to say the least, I still had two more nights of Vegas craziness to look forward to. Em and I traded stories of our previous night, she had been to see a ventriloquist comedian, I got propositioned by a drug peddling hooker, so we had both had very Vegas experiences. Tonight was going to be the night I tried out my mediocre Texas Hold Em skills on the tables, Em was going to watch a girl who used to sleep with leathery old Hugh Heffner strip in a show called 'Holly Madison's Peepshow.' once again, we were both planning very different yet very quintessential Vegas experiences. One persons night turned out they way the had planned, the others didn't so much...
We started the day later than usual and headed to Madame Tussuads at The Venetion Hotel & Casino. It's fair to say that Madame Tussuads was my favourite Las Vegas experience, first of all it was not very busy, so we had plenty of time to wander the exhibits. The wax figures are almost creepy in their life likeness, all made to scale of the actual people they were portraying (some of the sculptures were so lifelike that a person who saw the picture of myself and Sarah Michelle Gellar asked who the pretty blond girl was and if she was my girlfriend. She was quite embarrassed when I explained that it was a wax model of Buffy the Vampire Slayer). Madame Tussuads is Designed for people to have fun, with plenty of interactive displays (such as shooting hoops with Shaquille O'neal, sinking a putt with Tiger Woods, hitting the dance floor with Beyoncé, joint the Rat Pack on stage and many more) and loads of room to allow people to take photos. My favourite sculptures? Sitting at the presidents desk in the Oval Office with President Obama was quite cool, Halle Berry, Daniel Craig and Criss Angel had very lifelike sculptures and the Spiderman one was quite cool as well. I completely geeked out for the Scarecrow from Batman Begins however.
From The Venetian we headed down to Stratusphere at the top of the north end of the strip. The north end is much older and less glamorous than the south end of the strip. In fact from Circus Circus down to Stratusphere is kind of ghetto. Upon my return back to Australia people who had been to Vegas were shocked that we walked up and down that particular part of the strip. But walk we did, stopping in souvenir shops playing Mexican hip hop with security guards sitting up on high chairs like a tennis umpire, keeping a very close eye on anyone who wandered into the shop. We made into Stratusphere unscathed and headed to the viewing area on the 108th floor. The vista view of the Las Vegas area was spectacular, showing just what a desolate, yet beautiful area the Mojave desert is, it looked like a roadrunner cartoon come to life and the contrast between the glitzy man made showiness of Las Vegas and the rugged untouched nature of the desert was striking. If I'm in Nevada again, I'm heading out of the city and exploring the countryside. For people who are more of a thrill seeker than I, you can bungee off the top of Stratusphere in addition to a couple of rides called Big Shot, X Treme and Insanity.
Friday night and while Em headed off to watch Holly Madison, I went to the MGM to watch the Minnesota Timberwolves visit LA to take on the Clippers on one of the movie sized screens that were in the sports area of the casino. Of course, as I wrote earlier, my original plan was to play a few hands of Hold Em at the Flamingo, but that was thwarted when they refused to accept my Australian drivers license as a valid form of ID and insisted that it was my passport or nothing. Was I disappointed that I didn't get to play? Sure, but I was more flattered that they asked me for ID as I've been well over the legal gambling age of 21 for years. That certainly boosted my self esteem a bit!
I wandered around the strip some more after the game, chatting to one of the rappers who was up for a chat every time his new Australian friend went past. And on this night, I went two for two in being offered cocaine again. I'm anti drug, but I will say this about the pushers, they asked and if you said no thank you, they politely said no problem and looked for their next mark, no hassling you to buy and if they heard you were straight edge they were actually pretty respectful about the whole thing. After that however, I decided I'd call it a night, my feet were killing me after all the walking around the strip and I was about Vegas'd out for the day. I headed to bed that night wondering what Saturday on the strip would be like.
Saturday in Vegas was unlike anything I'd seen the previous two nights, it was like the population doubled overnight. It was wall to wall bucks parties, hens nights, birthdays, you name it. I was once again a real novelty to the groups on the hens nights, I had a few approach me as part of their bucket list of items and it usually ended with me answer multiple questions about Australia and hearing about my cute accent. I ended up in a few photos and even had one bride to be sign her name on the heart that is tattooed on my right arm (And Staci, if you read this, I hope you had a great wedding day). I also chatted to a girl from Belgium who was holidaying in Las Vegas with her Dad, who was probably the only 25 year old there with one of her parents. The Australian accent is a magnet to Americans who hear it and aren't from parts of America that Australians often visit. Between my accent and tattoo's I had plenty of people want to chat with me. Oh and what's a night in Vegas without being offered cocaine? Yep, three nights, three offers. That's Las Vegas.
We were leaving Vegas the next morning, on our way to Los Angeles and I was thinking about my impression of the city. I had been really keen to experience Las Vegas, but after a day or two, I wanted to leave and head back to Cleveland or New York. Las Vegas is a place that is mostly show and little substance. It's like seeing a girl at three in the morning at a club, all made up, then waking up in the morning and seeing what they really look like. It's a pretty charmless, sleazy city, but a place you still have to see to believe.

North America Trip Parts 10, 11 & 12: And Out Come The Wolves.

"Gareth, I'll be severely disappointed if you go to America and don't spend more than two days in Vegas". These were the words of my friend and previous Vegas visitor Kasey when I was running over a draft itinerary of the planned sojourn through the USA. Kasey had fond memories of Vegas, she married her husband and one of my oldest friends Nifty while in Las Vegas for the International Tattoo Convention there a few years ago, she met celebrities she admired, partied on the strip and just generally had a ball. Most people do, it's Sin City, America's playground where anything goes and what happens there usually stays there. It's a place of bright lights, loud noises and even louder personalities, where it's nothing to be walking the strip early in the morning and finding people with giant margaritas in their hands, still kicking on from the night before. It's a brash in your face type of city. But was it my type of city?
We arrived in Las Vegas early Wednesday night following a flight from Cleveland that was overbooked. Entering the terminal slot machines and ads for machine gun firing ranges greeted us. Vegas is built on slots, they are everywhere. They are in the casinos in great numbers of course, but also throughout the airport, in service stations, supermarkets, you name it. I wouldnt have been surprised if there had've been one in the toilet (not sure I'd want to win that 'jackpot' though). It's a city built on gambling and for the purpose of gambling. As a local girl named Arielle (one of the few naturally pretty girls I met in Vegas) said to me as she noted my astonishment "We survive off them, if we don't have the slots, we don't have jobs." Arielle's job was selling custom poker chips inside the Planet Hollywood hotel/casino and it was a rarity to actually meet a Vegas local. She gave me some clarity on the proliferation of the machines because let's face it, without them, Las Vegas would just be a big city placed randomly in the middle of the desert.
Em and I checked into our hotel, the Flamingo hotel/casino, the casino partly built by gangster Bugsy Seigal and named the Flamingo after his nickname for his girlfriend ( he called her flamingo because of her long legs apparently). It's one of the oldest resorts on the strip, houses a wildlife habitat in the courtyard featuring actual flamingos and numerous shops and bars. Even on the gaudy Las Vegas strip, the Flamingo stands out for its outrageous gaudiness. It's decorated in a neon pink from top to bottom and apparently the exterior is meant to be a homage to Miami and South Beach. Think Miami Vice style 80's and you get a good idea of the Flamingo. Em and I were also shocked to find that smoking was freely allowed inside buildings in Las Vegas, unlike Australia and our other stops in the US & Canada. Em was still feeling the tail end of her illness, so she went straight to bed while I strolled the casino and found a little bar where I could watch the Dall

as Mavericks take on the LA Clippers.
Neither Em nor myself rose that early the next day, it's Vegas you can get up and go to bed when ever you want and everything will still be running the exact same way. We decided to head out and explore the strip, starting of course at the Flamingo and heading south. We looked through most of the hotel/casinos on the way, Paris, the MGM Grand, Planet Hollywood, Excalibur, New York New York etc. and had our first taste of the infamous Vegas flickers. The flickers are a group who normally assemble on the corner of most blocks on the strip and try and give passers by promo cards for strip joints or prostitutes. They gain your attention by flicking the cards in their fingers to make a clicking sound and put their hands in as close to your personal space as they can. And they didn't care that I was walking around with Em, who for all they knew may have been my partner, they just were trying to make a living and most guys and a few girls had these touts harassing them on every street corner. It remained a constant annoyance but it was something you do knd of get used to.
We continued our journey back up the north end of the strip, stopping at Ceasers Palace and The Venetion. Em also booked in some shows to see at various Casinos, including a ventriloquist named Terru Fator (Em assured me he was amazing and i missed a great show) the Cirque De Solei Beatles tribute Show 'Love' and Holly Madison's Peep Show (I'd never heard of Holly Madison btw, I told Kim that Em was seeing 'some stripper named Holly Madison or something' Kim immediately replied with 'Oh I love her!' When I quizzed some more on who she was I found out she was famous for being engaged to Hugh Heffner or something. Really? That's all it takes to be famous? I really need to write about the cult of celebrity and how stupid it all is...). I preferred to just wander the strip, stop in at sports bars and catch whatever NBA or NHL game was screening.
It was on this first night that I encountered my first real taste of the seediness that underpins Las Vegas. I was heading back to the hotel room that night when I was stopped by a beautiful Asian girl with a pretty cute Midwestern US accent. She was quite chatty and as I went to leave she followed me to the elevator. It was then she told me what she did for a living, yep, I got hit on by a hooker (cue Steel Panther singing 'Asian Hooker'). I explained that sorry, I don't do that kind of stuff and anyway my friend was upstairs asleep, she shrugged and said 'there's always the bathroom' followed by 'we can just hang out if you'd feel better, I have party starters' Once again my small town neivity shone through, 'what's a party starter?' I asked. She looked at me like she wasn't sure if I was serious. 'You know, some coke...' Even nieve little old me knew that she wasn't talking soft drink. 'Look' I said, 'I apologise but I'm not really comfortable with this whole situation and I'm not interested thanks.' It was an awkward situation to say the least, because as those who know me know I am very anti drug and also not the type of person who'd do anything with a prostitute. She looked disappointed and probably wondered how she honed in on the one guy in Vegas NOT looking for a drug fueled night with a prostitute, but im sure if she had've looked in my wallet she would really have gotten depressed. I wonder what three Canadian dollars would've gotten me?
After I safely made it back to the hotel room (on my own I might add) I thought more about this girl. She could've done anything with her life, she was attractive sand well spoken, why did she become a person who trades sex for cash? What were here life's goals, hopes and dreams? What did she think she'd become when she was a child and if she could go back and meet her schoolyard self, what would she say? I didn't run into her again, but finding out why her life led her to this would've been an interesting story. I drifted off to sleep thinking about just how crazy my first full Las Vegas day had been and wondering what madness Friday and Saturday nights would offer...



TO BE CONTINUED...

But first, a rant...

Dear Google Adsense, why have you disabled my Adsense account because of 'invalid clicks' when THERE WEREN'T EVEN ANY ADS IN PLACE YET TO CLICK ON?!?!?!?!?!?! What a joke. Lift your game.

Not Drowning, Waving.

Summer. Most Australians love it. It means long balmy evenings, late evening BBQ's and jovially boisterous drinks with family and friends, the sound of leather and willow colliding on cricket fields around the country. It's Christmas and New Years, holidays and relaxing, heading to the coast, lakes or local swimming pools to cool down after 30°-40°c days. It's part of what most Australians would say is one of the defining pieces of our national psyche. We love the water, we Aussies. We laud our Olympic swimming stars, we preach to kids the importance of water safety from a young age and start learning to swim from an even younger age. The water, be it the beach or the local swimming pool is one of our most treasured cultural icons for a relatively young country that is still finding it's culture and true identity. Yet this summer in my hometown of Ararat, something has been missing. Our outdoor swimming pool has been shut for the summer and is in danger of being lost for good.
Friday the 3rd of February was a typical late January/early February evening in Ararat, the weather had been in the mid to high 20°c range during the day, meaning that the evening was ripe to be enjoyed. There was the usual plethora of walkers, families enjoying picnic dinners at Alexandra Gardens by the lake, kids on their bikes making the most of the extended daylight hours. A few of the Ararat Eagles footballers were having a casual preseason kick around on Alexandra oval, where they were soon to be joined by around 1500 other people, located around the grand old Olver stand. These 1500, myself included, weren't there to watch the lads get into their preseason football routine however. We were there for one reason: to save our outdoor pool, to show a council who had let this Olympic sized swimming facility fall into decay that yes, we cared. To show community pride and spirit, a welcome sight in a town that is sometimes bogged down in the negativity of some of the residents.
As I walked around the oval with my friends Jon & Hanna, I ran into one of my oldest friends, Phil, and his young son Blade. We had the usual obligatory chit chat, how's work, were your holidays good, that sort of thing. I then said to Phil how great it was that he came down to support the cause. What he said next struck a cord in my mind. "How could I not? That pool was a part of our childhood, it helped make us who we are. I don't want my kids to miss out on some of the great experiences I had there."
I thought about Phil's words as we sat in the grandstand listening to the rally organizer speak. I had never thought like that before, the pool had always just been there and to be honest I hadn't swam there for years. My initial outrage was more based on the fact that the pool was a true community achievement, built in the 1950's by a big group of local volunteers (including my grandparents). It truly was a structure for the people by the people and upon completion was handed over and entrusted to the Ararat City Council, under the assurance that they would maintain the pool in good condition. It was something that the community should've been truly proud of. Did we, the citizens of Ararat, take it for granted? Perhaps. But we never thought we'd see a summer where the pool would be empty of water and closed indefinitely. I'm sure the original builders would never have imagined that would've happened either. Now however my mind was wandering not to my grandparents and the other people who got the pool built, but what it meant to me and my childhood/adolescence.
The more I thought about Phil's words, the more the memories came flooding back to me. My grandmother taking me to the pool when I was only very young, keeping a watchful eye on me as I splashed around the shallow end, not letting me back in the pool for half an hour after I'd eaten a icy pole on my break from the water. My cousins from Melbourne and I walking down on a hot summers day, change jingling in our pockets ready to cool down on a typically scorching January afternoon. It was swimming lessons every term one and term four right through school until about year ten. I was not/am not/will never be a strong swimmer, but being left out of the 'advanced' swimming group always stung me. As I grew older, it was heading to the pool with my friends during those awkward years between the ages of 12-14. We would swim sure, or perhaps try and get into the usually long line for the diving board, but more often than not it was our premium spot to sit under the trees on the grassy hills and chat about music, movies, school, tv and of course girls. It was where we would oh so awkwardly approach the girl we liked to ask out, or not go through with it because the public rejection in front of our peers and more importantly in front of the object of our affections and her friends would be like a form of social suicide. That didn't stop us from checking out the girls walking past though, stirring our adolescent hormones, especially when a woman who'd probably now be called a MILF would swim laps in her white bikini,it was like a late Christmas gift to a group of 15 year old boys! It was the site of my favorite high school day, our swimming sports in year 12. I didn't even enter the water,it was the carnival type atmosphere, we being in our final school year were allowed to have our stereos blasting out our music (a curious mix of punk, ska, metal, grunge, hip hop and electro. You could go from Propaghandi to The Prodigy to Reel Big Fish to Xzhibit in four songs) and to cook ourselves up a BBQ and dress as crazily as we liked. It summed up what the pool meant. It wasn't just a place to learn to swim or splash around on a hot summers day. It was our village green. It was our meeting place, where we could socialise out of our school uniforms and free from the constraints of bells, classes and teachers. It was part of what molded us into the people we became, good or bad. Many an important decision was made there over a can of coke and a bag of BBQ chips.
It was another summertime status quo that when daylight savings came, you could hear the excited chatter of the next batch of kids experiencing what we did, listening to the music blasting through the crackly old sound system that was in place, only interrupted by an occasional foreboding voice booming over the PA saying "you in the black shorts, out of the pool!" or something similar. But the pool is silent. Closed due not just the councils neglect, but also due to us taking it for granted. But we need the outdoor pool. We need it so that our kids can swim, flirt, socialise and grow just as we did. We need it so that the efforts of all those good men and woman of a bygone era's work for future generations wasn't in vain. We need it because all good communities need a place to socialise, excercise and watch the world go by. If we lose the pool, we'll be losing part of ourselves, part of the town spirit, part of the town history.
The pool must stay.