When we go on family trips, my mother finds the upscale places visit, shop and eat. This frees my father and I up to find the lesser known places, what some may call the hidden gems, and what others may call the seedy back alleys. We spent most of our time in Las Vegas on the Strip. We stayed at The Venetian, and visited nearly all the hotels and casinos in the area while we were there. The casinos are beautiful and have features that make them unique, but they all offer a similar experience. We had seen enough slot machines and Asian fusion restaurants. We decided that we wanted to go somewhere different. We had heard about an area known as Downtown Las Vegas, and we decided we had to check it out.
We read a few reviews before we took off in our rented Ford. Here is an excerpt from one. “I’ve played poker at Binion’s – home of the World Series of Poker – at a table where everyone but me looked like one of those old men under the ghost masks on Scooby Doo.” We were sold. My mother reluctantly. I put on my silver sequinned dress, we jumped into our rental with the Colorado license plates, and we left the Strip.
We arrived at the Fremont Street Experience. The Strip is full of lights, especially if you go to the older casinos, but it has nothing on Fremont Street. This area bears all the traces of old Las Vegas, complete with the original Vegas Vic sign. Above the famous signs is a light canopy that plays hourly shows with neon lights. We walked in and out of some smoky casinos that were indeed filled with Scooby Doo villains. As we continued down Fremont, we came across La Bayou. I wanted to go in for the Mardi Gras beads and the raffle. The place was dark, except for the light from the slot machines, with plastic masks and beads hung from branches that came down from the ceiling. I wanted to stay for the raffle. My mother put a $5 into a slot machine, and when she cashed out she received all nickels. We were playing around with all the nickels, when suddenly the raffle number was called. All seven of us in La Bayou stood at attention. An eighth man emerged when his number was called, popping out from behind the bar, yard stick margarita in hand. With the amount of alcohol he must have purchased, the man deserved a free spin.
We left La Bayou covered in dirt from the nickels, and just in time for the light show. By that time, all sorts of characters had arrived. Old men looked at me in my sequinned dress as though they expected me to add to the Experience’s entertainment. I realize now that in Downtown Las Vegas, you never want to look more interesting than the entertainment. Following the light show was the classic rock cover band. When the band started playing “We Are the Champions,” the crowd swayed like Freddie Mercury himself was up on stage. We left the people to their king sized Budweisers and drinks in paper bags.
We hopped back into the Colorado Ford, and left the Fremont Street Experience in search of a gas station so we could return the car. The streets around Fremont were just as spectacular, with lights advertising casinos, strip clubs and pawn shops. We passed the kind of motels you never want to end up at when you’re in Vegas. We passed bars and taco shacks, owned by men with named like Raoul, and still we didn’t see a gas station. We drove down streets that become increasingly dark, with pedestrians who looked increasingly sinister. It was then that we recalled a tip from another online review: don’t go off Fremont Street, and stay away from the alleys. When I read the tip the first time I thought, What is this, Gotham City?, but we continued a few blocks and found out that the review was right. We pulled into the first gas station we came across. My dad couldn’t get the car close enough to the pump, and when he got out of the car he saw that another had made it so that he couldn’t get to it. It was then that a man emerged from the shadows to ask my father to pay for his gas. Only then would my father be able to get his own. If that this point you’re noticing a trend of sudden appearances, let me tell you that it’s like all of Downtown Las Vegas was trained in the art by Criss Angel. Duly alarmed by the presence of a shadowy figure in the night, he got into the car without getting gas. We sped out of the gas station and turned around in the parking lot of an abandoned motel. We drove past wedding chapels looking at lights and shadows. We made a back alley turn, and finally came upon a gas station haunted by the denizens of downtown. We got the gas we needed and returned to the Strip without making any more stops.
If there’s one lesson to be learned from our time in Vegas, it’s that you really should listen when they tell you not to go down the side streets.
Song of the Day: Viva Las Vegas by ZZ Top
If you’re wondering about the title of this post, it’s in reference to Hunter S. Thompson’s Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. What’s happened to the loathing? Well, that’s what comes next.
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