Day 4 - Glitz and Glamour

This was to be our last day in Vegas, so we had to make it count! In the morning, some of the group went shooting, and the rest of us decided to put our comfy shoes on and go shopping. 

Into a taxi we clambered, which whisked us off to the Premium Brands Outlets. This is a massive open-air mall complex on the outskirts of town, with designer brands at knock-down prices. We set ourselves a time limit and shopped like fiends. 

This was where I first made the acquaintance of Skechers Go Walks. I hadn’t quite understood the fanaticism of their wearers before then… but now, of course, I do. They really are the most comfortable shoe ever invented, and I practically lived in them from that moment forward. 

Once we’d shopped ourselves silly, we whipped back to the hotel just long enough to dump our purchases and rendezvous with the bloodthirsty shooters at Gordon Ramsay’s ‘BURGR’ restaurant, where we duly admired their bullet-ridden t-shirts and zombie posters as we tucked into the most delicious burgers I’ve ever encountered. The truffle parmesan fries were a trifle salty, but that was ok, I’d run out of room for them anyway. 

Afterward, we decided to check out the swanky rooftop pool party at Drai's. Cover charge was $20 for women and $30 for the men, and the bouncer looked us up and down critically. I'm fairly sure he only let us in because he suspected Nigel might be a celebrity. 

Up on the roof, I could see why. Everyone was young, thin, tanned and toned, with a decent amount of surgical enhancement in evidence wherever you looked. We were by far the oldest, flabbiest, palest and hairiest group there. Nevertheless, we ordered expensive drinks (but for some reason didn't order the $375,000 bottle of wine on the menu), got in the pool and shook our thangs with the beautiful people. Keely got excited when she spotted (and took a covert photo of) Adam Lambert.

A quick five-minute change into our glad rags, and then it was time for drinks at the Bellagio in the Baccarat Bar. We hastily downed these so we could keep our appointment at Mon Ami Gabi – they don’t wait around to give away the table if your party doesn’t show! 

The food at Mon Ami Gabi was delicious, of course – the French Onion soup had come highly recommended by tour guide Jessica, and it was everything she promised it would be. 

Afterwards, we killed a little time at the slot machines in Paris until it was time to meet the limo. Emma and I had great fun winning money on the Lord of the Rings and The Hangover games. They do make them exciting. 

In the limo, we cracked open our duty free and caroused our way around the city, with stops at the Vegas sign for photos, and at Fremont Street to take in the party atmosphere and hear a guy do the best Michael Jackson cover ever (with the moves, to boot!). Then on to the Mirage to see the volcano erupt – which, unhelpfully, it neglected to do before our time was up and the limo whisked us, tired Cinderellas, back to the Bellagio.

At the Mirage

While the others continued the party back at the hotel, Keely and I stopped at the Bellagio Fountain for its last show of the evening – aptly, the Star Spangled Banner. 

Fremont Street

 

Day 3 - In the Grand Canyon

After a hasty coffee, the group assembled to wait for our transport to Papillon Helicopters’ airfield. Once there, we were weighed (thankfully, they didn’t tell us the result of this) and shown a safety video which essentially consisted of how to put on a seatbelt and open a door. 

After a bit of waiting around, we were rounded up and installed in the helicopter ready for lift off. And it was exciting! Our pilot, Blaine, was a friendly guy and we were all silently relieved to learn that he’d actually taught flying for a time. Clearly this dude knew what he was doing. 

We flew over the Hoover Dam, and got a good look at Lake Mead – very low, after a three-year drought. And then on to the main event – the Grand Canyon.

Down, down into the Grand Canyon we went, and then landed and clambered out into stifling temperatures. It was awe-inspiring. So deep, so massive, so… ancient, for all the trappings of tourism that were evident there.

Blaine set out for us a picnic lunch, and poured champagne. It was all delicious. Time for a few photos, and then we were in the air again (and the air conditioning!) and heading back.

Afterwards, back in Vegas,  the group split up by gender - the guys went off to do guy things, and the ladies headed to Paris. Paris was one of my favourite places - the casino's ceiling is painted to look like a beautiful blue sky with gentle clouds, and its shops are built to look like buildings on the streets of Paris.  We found a bar that served Sauvignon Blanc (yussss!) - although it was from Marlborough, NZ - and plonked ourselves down with a few bottles of this to enjoy an A Cappella group playing old Motown hits. These guys were sex on legs. Phwoar.

  

Day 2 - Don't Text and Drive!

10.30am, after about two hours’ sleep, I dragged myself through the shower and went off in search of a restorative coffee.

The coffee kiosk in the foyer of Bally’s had what I needed. I ordered a small coffee and the only non-sweet thing they had on the menu, which was a plain croissant. Apparently eating sugar for breakfast is quite normal in America. 

Sipping my “small” latte, which appeared to actually be an extra-large (but tasted amazing), I wondered vaguely where Emma and Nigel were. It turned out later that they had actually texted me, but to my usual number, whose SIM was sitting safely on my dresser at home. So Keely and I decided to hop on a tour bus and get our first orientation of Las Vegas. 

Our tour guide, Jessica, was the funniest little Texan woman I’ve ever come across. Insane, fiesty, and prone to cackling with crazed mirth at any given moment, she had a special aversion to people who text while driving, pointing these out loudly whenever we passed one, and embarrassing them thoroughly. 

Down the strip we went, past mammoth themed hotels and casinos, endless eateries and souvenir stores, on top of the bus in the hot sunshine. The Eiffel tower on the top of Paris, its legs descending down into the casino itself. The statue of Liberty at New York, New York. The Hard Rock with its massive guitars. Camelot, with its courtyard, towers and turrets. Too many sights to name. We headed out to the ‘Welcome to Vegas’ sign, and past the part of the airport earmarked for private jets – where Jessica claims to hang out on a Saturday, looking for her next ex-husband (anyone with a decent size jet, not the skinny little ones  - and not ‘Leo DiCrapio’, because he’s crazy). 

Then on to ‘Old Vegas’, where The Hangover was set, which has all the wedding chapels and the glitzy alternative glamour of Fremont Street with its neon signs everywhere and flying fox on the ceiling. Also, a LOT of ads for Bail Bonds, shady-looking lawyers and pawn shops. Hmmm. 

 

Keely, Jessica and Me. 

Later, we joined up with the others for dinner at Bubba Gump. The quantities of food were astounding - I didn't even make it through half! - and regretted having ordered an appetiser as well as an entree. I did end up with a commemorative glass from the cocktail I ordered (a jam jar on a stem) which was surprisingly heavy.

Day 1 - The Journey

Planes flying over the rental car place near LAX

Bag packed and weighing a whopping 17.7kg, we fortified ourselves with several glasses of wine and delicious fish and chips at Christchurch airport before boarding the first plane. Some 14 hours later, we landed in LAX, cramped, dishevelled, and having had very little sleep.

After melting for what seemed like hours in the line for Customs, where the air conditioning had conveniently decided to die in the middle of a scorching LA morning, finally we were free and set loose upon America. 

Our rental car was big, luxurious, and, thankfully, had excellent air conditioning. After driving around in circles trying to follow the instructions we’d been given, we eventually decided to just plug in our Vegas address in the GPS and go with its flow. Dubbing her ‘Betty Sue’, she soon led us on our way.

We’d barely gone a few blocks before we saw our first incidence of LA crime. Two very young looking lads were being led away in handcuffs from a rather flash car that I suspect they didn’t own. 

The city of Los Angeles is massive. It took hours just to make it out of the city and on our way through the desert. By this time, night had fallen. All that could be seen in any direction were two bright snakes spanning five lanes each – one red, heading for Vegas in front of us, and the other white, going back the way we’d come. 

Stopping for something to eat should have been a simple thing, but the freeway is confusing. After googling what the best burgers were thereabouts, Betty Sue led us on another merry circle to Tommy’s Original in Barstow (or Bakersfield, I never did quite figure out where she’d taken us). Their chilli burgers were all that was promised – but their ‘medium’ drinks came in such a huge bucket-like cup that I only filled mine a quarter full to get a normal sized portion of coke!

On the road again, and we were on our final jaunt to Vegas.

Lights appeared in the distance, and our excitement grew. Glittering, shiny… small? This wasn’t Vegas at all! But instead Primm, which we dubbed ‘mini-Vegas’. Or teaser-Vegas, perhaps. Soon enough though, we came upon Vegas proper.

Words cannot describe the sense of overwhelmed awe that the first sight of Vegas inspires. The sheer size, lights and movement of everything is like a rollercoaster for the senses. For a sheltered gal from Christchurch, the decadence and in-your-face money of the place was almost obscene. My first thought was that it’s Disneyland for grown-ups. 

Betty Sue led us on what seemed like a wild goose chase, trying to find out how to get to the valet parking at our hotel, Bally’s. The usual route in, which we’d researched, was closed for roadworks. But eventually we made it. 

Our hotel, Bally's

The valet was incredibly rude, and we were incredibly tired and not disposed to feel charitable towards whatever had happened in his day to make him such a grump. My first introduction to a tippable service was that this time, we weren’t going to tip at all. 

Eventually though, we ended up checked in, reunited with our luggage, and able to brush our teeth – which I’d been hanging out to do for hours by that stage.

The Conservatory in Bellagio

Dog-tired but not yet able to countenance sleep, after being led by some friends on a guided tour of the Bellagio nearby (wow, what a wonderland!) we headed for the bar. And for my first rude introduction to the non-Sauvviness of Nevada. Sipping my Pinot Grigio (which I tipped the bartender for, in my first tipping experience!), it was at least wine, and made me feel very happy indeed. 

Shortly we ended up in conversation with a couple of lovely guys from Arizona, John and Jim, who were having a boys’ weekend in Vegas; and another guy (whose name I’ve forgotten) who was telling us all about the suite he got upgraded to, and also invited us to a party in said suite. It was a real novelty having our accent be the strange one!

The sun was well and truly up by the time we finally retired for the night. And after snatching only a couple of hours of sleep, it was time to grab Vegas with both hands and see what she had to offer us.