I had nearly forgotten about the "ROCKS LAS VEGAS" sticker on Billy Idol's guitar in the "White Wedding" video until a friend reminded me of it on my trip home last week.
Idol stayed in Las Vegas for extended periods during the recording of his 1982 solo album, and he snaked the "ROCKS" sticker from local AOR station KOMP -- a rock station that, in those days, wouldn't have played a Generation X track if the fate of the world balanced upon it. And yet this last week -- in the course of flipping stations, smack in the middle of drive time -- I heard "Rebel Yell" on KOMP. That's one of the things I love about my former hometown --it doesn't make lasting judgments or hold onto old grudges, unless you own the town money. Or if you're Criss Angel.
I lived in Las Vegas nearly 12 years before moving to Seattle in 2002, and I've been back several times a year since. As it is for Billy Idol, a part of me belongs in Vegas. There I made lasting friendships, learned the trade of journalism through practice, and had experiences I'll never have anywhere else. I also drank enough hard liquor in the course of a working week to intoxicate every soul reading these words for the next week to ten days. Sometimes I dream of that bygone era and I get the bed-spins.
When I visit Las Vegas I have very little time to plug myself back into its beautiful madness, and I always leave it feeling like I didn't do everything I wanted or needed to do. There are too many good friendships to revisit, too much to see and do. I don't need to apologize to the buildings, but the people... There's never enough time to see everyone, or to see everyone enough. For that, I'm profoundly sorry.
Anyway, let's make with the people and places I did see.
I stayed at the Hard Rock Hotel. I wanted to stay in the hotel where John Entwistle died of a cocaine overdose whilst entertaining a stripper. The beds were nice and fluffy and the lighting was conducive to the making of low-budget pornography; unfortunately, that I didn't have the time or the personnel to do. Could have made a big production of it, too; the shower is big enough for six people and you can order lingerie through room service. I didn't make inquiries on that latter score because I knew they wouldn't have my size.
No trip to Vegas is complete without a visit to the Pinball Museum and Hall of Fame. More than a hundred vintage pinball machines and video games, all playable for twenty-five to seventy-five cents. I can easily lose a couple of hours there despite the fact that I suck at pinball. Unlike my friend James (pictured), I drain like scubbing bubbles. I suck at pinball so you don't have tooooooooooo!
I paid four visits to Frankie's Tiki Room. That's one per day. I drank Lava Louies and Green Gassers until I hallucinated John Entwistle getting it on with Thor Heyerdahl. I also procured three of Frankie's customized tiki mugs ...
... but one of them shattered in transit. Wasn't this handsome fellow, though. He made it all the way back to Seattle, and my girlfriend drank coffee out of him this morning. Just to piss him off.
Here's an obligatory shot of a go-go bartender:
And one of the skyline at dawn:
Don't say I never gave you anything. By the way, I never met the girl, and I woke to see dawn over Vegas; I didn't beat it back to the room. I have trouble sleeping in desert air now; I'm lucky to get five hours' sleep a night.
I also mixed it up with some good friends:
Mary and Robby. They're just that goddamn cute, too. You wanna pick 'em up and hug 'em.
Staci, James and Fig. We spent an afternoon whackin' off.
My sister Jahmai and me, taken by my friend PJ, whose picture I failed to get. I also failed to get pictures of PJ's lovely girlfriend Sara, or my favorite funk drummer Frank, or my old editors Bryan and Mr. Doodles, or German, or Sarah, or ... Look, that sugar and rum wasn't going to drink itself.
I made the trip to see my aunts, whom I haven't seen in years. Terrie's on the left; Janet's on the right. They're absolutely wonderful people. It's really cool, the way all of us have met in the middle. I'm now able to use undignified cusswords in their company, and to show up to family gatherings hung over.
One more thing: This Shag-designed "Vice Tester" tagged me with "Greed," and my sister with "Smut." I was positive I'd get "Booze," "Sex" or "Bad Television," but no, it's "Greed." That's another swell thing about Las Vegas -- it tells you when you're not trying hard enough. In the midnight hour, it cries more, more, more.
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