GO
WEST:
Viva!
Las
Vegas!
By Geoff
J Butch Ireland/ Daily Nebraskan
McMurtry
Author’s note: The following
story is basically true. The names
have been changed because no
one is innocent.
It’s kind of hard to find
Elvis this time of year, but
we knew exactly where
to look.
Las Vegas.
Sin City. The City That Never
Sleeps. The Jewel Of The Desert.
The ultimate experiment in pure
capitalism. Where anything you
can’t have or do anywhere else on
the globe is not only readily avail
able, it’s reasonably priced.
The whole idea behind it all was
to see some horrible, fat, old,
glitzy, out-of-tune Elvis imper
sonator in some cheap, tawdry
lounge, while drinking cheap wa
tered-down gin, and to do it on
Christmas day. Everything the
Russians hate and fear about
America would be summed up in
one tidy, festive little family holi
day package. But things didn’t
quite work out.
With that in mind and six of us
in a Dodge Diplomat with a dino
saur for a hood ornament, we set
out at midnight. We would get to
Las Vegas about midnight a day
later. We had some beer, some
Chex Mix and three or four tapes of
songs by or about Elvis to get us
there. We had a life-size poster of
The King in the back window so
everybody would know where we
were going and accord us the
Proper respect. We even had a
rank Sinatra tape, just in case
someone gave us trouble.
OK. You’re driving down Inter
state 15. As you come around that
final turn, between the last two
mountains, you suddenly see the
lights. Then you sec more lights.
Lights fill the sky, like in a
Spielberg movie.
Although you’re still 20 miles
or so away, you notice something
unusual. The city seems to be slith
ering. You blink youreyesand look
again. No doubt about it. Las Vegas
slithers, like a huge snake. And,
just like when you see a huge
snake, your first impulse is to turn
and flee. Your second impulse is
also to turn and flee.
After a moment, you notice
you’re not fleeing yet. You haven’t
moved. You can’t look away. No
matter how disgusting it is, no
matter how repulsive, the worse it
gets, the more you want to look.
As you drive across the barren
waste toward certain doom, you
reflect on snakes you have known.
You know that it has probably seen
you by now, and the only thing on
the lowly beast’s carnivorous mind
is to reach out, bite you, squeeze
the living hell out of you, then
swallow you up and gulp you into
its digestive pit with all the bones,
bamboo hats, sunglasses, cameras
and bermuda shorts of all the other
brave, foolish explorers who got
this far. The only real difference is
that, unlike other large, nefarious
snakes you’ve seen, this one isn’t
caged. It’s right there in front of
you, crawling across the desert,
thinking of nothing but chomping
down on your head. Ten miles
away, and you can almost hear the
forked tongue whispering, offering
you a free drink and a friendly
game of blackjack.
Somewhere in the back of your
mind you know Marlin Perkins is
watching from the truck, and you
silently curse him.
Day one wasn’t so bad. Of
course, that’s the oldest trick in the
book, but we were younger then
and easily buoyed by the empty lull
of success. Our falsceuphoria actu
ally began clear back by the gates
of the zoo.
Before you even get to Las
Vegas, you have to get past the
Nevada State Line. Just like in
every other state in the Union, there
is a big green sign saying, “Wel
come to (name of state, in this case
Nevada).*’ Unlike every other state
in the Union, about 6 inches from
the damn sign is a stadium-sized
casino, powered by more neon than
in all of Ethiopia. This is the city of
Mesquite, Nev.
When we had passed it, “Ace,”
the gambler of the bunch, had to
stop and partake of their wares.
Sure enough, he picked up 20 free
dollars in just a few minutes of
casual fun. The rest of us were so
happy with our free drinks, given to
us just for standing close enough to
the table to look like we were play
ing, that we didn’t even notice the
separating jaws that were probably
hovering over our heads.
Just like that, we were back on
the road, laughing at how that poor
ignorant casino had paid us $20 to
drink their booze. Were we ever
stupid.
So, there we were. Ten miles
away, staring straight into the
Depths of Hell, and not even hav
ing the good sense to laugh back
back in its face as a final gesture of
defiance before being devoured.
Oh, we laughed all right. We
laughed plenty. We laughed at all
the ignorant greedy simpletons
who had come here before us,
thinking they’d make a killing to
pay off the car loan, only to end up \
leaving the car on a craps table. W e \
laughed at all the grubby little fools
who came here for a new begin
ning, a new start in life, to change
and better the lives they’d left
behind, only to lose every penny
they’d brought and end up selling
their clothes and, ultimately, them
selves, just for bus fare home. Fall
ing short of this, they would just
wander the streets and the casinos,
naked, hoping to find a dropped
poker chip to cash in so they could
finally escape from Hell, forget
ting that it is written, “Once arriv
ing, thou shalt never leave.”
We even laughed at all those
nice Midwestern families who
came just for a little weekend vaca
tion, who thought it’d be nice to get
the family all together for a few
days, and maybe even teach the
kids a little about finance; who
only ended up donating their life
savings so that the West Coast arm
of the Mastacciolietti Family could
build yet another towering neon
monument to their greed and stu
pidity. The nice couple would
never retire, and the kids would
never go to college. And we
laughed.
See LAS VEGAS on 6
