Sensational... Sin City

People in England may well be complaining, as our grey and cloudy country slips over into the third week of heatwave, but let me tell you: Vegas was hot. Oppressive hot. The kind of hot that comes from concrete and glass and tarmac. When we got off the bus- an eight hour journey as city gave way to rocks and shrubs and huge expanses of nothing- the road shimmered, warping in front of our faces. Every time we took a breath in, we could feel the heat on the inside of our lungs. The middle of the desert, and there was no wind.

You can’t really roadtrip without passing through Vegas, and with the international branding of Sin City, the place where anything goes,  you’d expect  it could never live up to the hype. But of course, this is America, hype means a different thing there. It was an acid-trippy adult fantasyland that begins with the mirage-like effect of seeing the vast pyramid and sphinx of the Luxor looming out of the blank desert, and then one by one the eclectic mashup of the strip that you’ve seen countless times on postcards. This was to be the grand finale of our trip: and while we never woke up with a tiger in the bathroom, it was one hell of an experience. 

terrifying clown

There's a lot that's weird and wonderful about Sin City, but the most beautiful fact is that once you get there (make it past the flights or the coaches, or whatever the bulk prices are) your stay can be insanely cheap. It’s just about finding the right places. We stayed four nights in the lurid Circus Circus casino, advertised from the front by a terrifying neon clown, who stood brandishing a glowing lollipop at the cars and buses cruising down the strip. For $25 the first two nights and a slight increase over the weekend we got a room with a hugely comfy king-sized bed, desk, armchairs, bathroom, fridge and tv. Each casino-resort is so vast there are always rooms going, and hotels slugging it out for who can bring in the most customers, so if you do a bit of research before booking you can often land an awesome accommodation deal. 

Once you're settled, sort out your transport. The strip is incredible to see, but it’s also vast, and in the heat, difficult to navigate. If you come to Vegas without a car, then before you do anything else, buy a three or a six-day bus pass for the ‘Deuce’. The buses are regular, incredibly well airconditioned, and an invaluable way of getting up and down the strip. Don’t think you can save yourself by walking. We tried that on the first night, and The Graduate nearly collapsed in the foyer of the Palazzo. You'll also miss out on some of the colourful characters who ride the Deuce. Why walk, when in a single short bus trip we not only saw a dishevelled drunkard lying across the seats shouting about how he was secretly an undercover cop; but a guy wired out of his skull- who rolled up to the back seats yelling 'WHO WANTS A GRAM? VEGAS, BABY!', slipped a packet of the white stuff to the incoherent 'undercover cop', and then collapsed next to us for a chat about England's best football teams.
 "Manchester United," he insisted, touching The Graduate's thigh. "That's the stuff." 

fun loving free thinkers....

I do think you have to be over 21 to enjoy Sin City. It was only after arriving we realized we were staying in a ‘Family hotel’, and even then I was truly baffled by the number of kids running around. The casinos were full of smoke and drunk adults, and beyond the initial amazement of the huge buildings I couldn't much see the appeal for younglings, or for the parents who have to shepherd them past the ‘over 21’ zones and back to the screamingly loud amusement arcades. It helps as well to enjoy some of the colorful entertainment on offer. On our second day we were approached in the street by a large florid man, who shouted "You look like a very happy young couple!" and then invited us to a very exclusive adults party at a club called The Jockstrap. "It's for fun-loving free thinkers." he said, earnestly. It was to his infinite regret that we told him we didn't qualify, not being over twenty-five: or married. 

"Did we just get invited to a sex club?" I mumbled as we walked away. 

"Yup." The Graduate nodded, giving me a discreet high five. 

After going on to get lost in Ceaser’s Palace and nearly contracting a second bout of heatstroke, we decided to take a bus downtown to explore the Vegas off the main strip; and accidentally discovered a magical place outside the Vegas of Hollywood. A ten minute bus ride off the main strip takes you into the grittier end of Vegas, the vintage strip set up and run for many years by the mob. Once the main Vegas Strip, this area has become fully pedestrianized and titled The Freemont Street Experience: half a kilometer of sidewalk under the biggest LED screen in the world.  Here the casinos are a shade grimier, a shade tattier, about a quarter of the size, but with a hell of  a lot more character. The Golden Nugget, with its flume through a shark tank; the Four Queens; the Main Street Station with its railcar buffet. The slots are cheap and the drinks are many.

Freemont Street Experience

99 cents? Yes please.

These casinos are full of 'secret' deals. Inside the Freemont is a bar and grill called Tony Romas, where after 9pm you can get a fantastic steak and lobster for only 11 dollars; head along to the Main Street Station and they’ll do you a frozen margharita for just 99 cents- the best way to get rid of your slot machine fodder. At Binion’s you can get a free photo of yourself taken with a million dollars, piled high in a pyramid, New Orleans themed casino La Bayou will give you strings of Mardi Gras beads whenever you come in to play a slot. International sensation the Heart Attack Grill has been 'fighting obesity since 2005' with its Quadruple Bypass Burger.








It's more manageable than the main strip and packed with free open-air concerts, fantastic hidden gems of bars and drinking joints. On our last, truly memorable evening, we saw ‘Marriage can be Murder’ at The D: a hilarious dinner-and-a-show murder mystery with heavy audience participation; puns strong enough to kill a horse, and slightly racist undertones (when the only Asian member of the audience stood up to speak the DJ drowned him out with a sample of Gangnam Style). Once finished we wandered our way into a biker bar called Hogs and Heifers; where fierce girls in jeans and fringed tube tops danced on the bartops and screamed themselves hoarse at the customers. It was a weird form of customer service: as a new party of people stepped tentatively over the threshold one particularly dangerous bargirl howled "THIS ISN'T A [expletive] COCKTAIL BAR SO IF YOU [expletives] WANT A DRINK I SUGGEST YOU WALK YOUR [expletives] UP TO THE BAR AND ORDER ONE!" before leaping back onto the bartop and high-kicking her way back towards the ale taps. 

Not sure it's one I'll be trying when I return to my waitressing job, but it seemed to work for them. 

I know the main strip is what you see in the films, but Downtown had so much fire and fizz that The Graduate and I spent most of our time exploring it. So sure, get your photos taken of the classic strip casinos, ride the rollercoaster around New York New York and splash out at the Ceasar's buffet- but then head down to the mob part of town. I think Sin City, whether you end up loving it or hating it, is something that you have to do once in your life: though I’ll reiterate that waiting until you’re twenty-one is more likely to land you the full drinking gambling playing experience. But there’s no age cap on standing outside the Bellagio hotel at midnight, as the star spangled banner plays and huge white sprays of water flying thirty feet into the air, and if you can put the hole in the ozone out of your mind, there's something truly magical about the sight of all that neon. 

Sin City. I sincerely hope it's not the last time I visit.