Platial | Who and What's Nearby
Platial | Who and What's Nearby
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For those that think Las Vegas is a depressing, depraved place, we've figured out the solution for you: Bring a three-year-old child. Gone immediately is any attempt to go gambling, go out at night, or do anything marginally adult. With that automatic filter in place, the town lights up in a way you'd never imagine: It's a little kid's paradise!
Our first afternoon was spent watching the canal boats at the fake Venice, much of the discussion spent on the fake sky painted on the ceiling of each room. "Pops, is this the real sky or the pretend sky?" A pop quiz on the artifice of the town. The Venetian had been recommended by our Italian neighbor as being better than Venice because "There are no pigeons there!" And it's true: No pigeons. Also: lots of Italians. Go figure!
The second day was spent at the New York New York wandering the 1/2 scale streets of Greenwich Village being amazed at the miniature air conditioners rattling in the windows of the fake brownstones. The attention to detail is wonderful in the most hilarious way possible: Whoever thought that the dingy streets of New York would need miniaturization was a brilliant person, though I would have liked to have seen tiny piles of garbage out front of each storefront as well, just for reality's sake. Also: Lots of New Yorkers all proclaiming that the scale model was "better than New York."
A quick trip to an empty lion habitat and a full aquarium and it was back to the hotel for some much-needed rest. Rest punctuated by a quick visit to hotels.com to add an additional night to our stay--after our disastrous time in Needles, we decided another night in Vegas was a better bet than at a Motel 6 in another meth town in the desert.
Dinner that evening was a buffet on the streets of fake-Paris. Much of the talk at dinner was hyping the dancing fountains across the street at the Bellagio. Fountains that, when confronted in person our three-year-old began screaming at the top of his lungs, "I WANT TO GO BACK TO THE HOTEL," which made the crowds assembled to watch the (truly pretty amazing) fountains love us to know end. Whoops.
Morning of the third day was a road trip to the Hoover Dam which would have been more impressive had a security checkpoint not created a 1/2 hour traffic jam in the desert. A hike around Lake Mead was quickly aborted after the destination we had chosen revealed itself to be a ghost trail thanks to the receding waters of the shrinking lake--nothing says "fun" like waking around in the desert in the heat of the day looking at a gravel bed that used to be water.
After a retreat to the darkened air conditioning of our hotel room, we emerged to have dinner at the Bellagio, a hotel that was definitely a billion dollars well spent, especially it's indoor conservatory which offers the best smelling air in all of Vegas. After the buffet (food, amazing! atmosphere, terrible!), we walked around Caesar's Palace, a place head-spinningly over-the-top. Roosevelt summed up the evening by doing a footie dance through the shops of Caesar's yelling "I LOVE LAS VEGAS" at the top of his lungs. It's true: When you're almost three, there's a lot to love.
For those that think Las Vegas is a depressing, depraved place, we've figured out the solution for you: Bring a three-year-old child. Gone immediately is any attempt to go gambling, go out at night, or do anything marginally adult. With that automatic filter in place, the town lights up in a way you'd never imagine: It's a little kid's paradise!
Our first afternoon was spent watching the canal boats at the fake Venice, much of the discussion spent on the fake sky painted on the ceiling of each room. "Pops, is this the real sky or the pretend sky?" A pop quiz on the artifice of the town. The Venetian had been recommended by our Italian neighbor as being better than Venice because "There are no pigeons there!" And it's true: No pigeons. Also: lots of Italians. Go figure!
The second day was spent at the New York New York wandering the 1/2 scale streets of Greenwich Village being amazed at the miniature air conditioners rattling in the windows of the fake brownstones. The attention to detail is wonderful in the most hilarious way possible: Whoever thought that the dingy streets of New York would need miniaturization was a brilliant person, though I would have liked to have seen tiny piles of garbage out front of each storefront as well, just for reality's sake. Also: Lots of New Yorkers all proclaiming that the scale model was "better than New York."
A quick trip to an empty lion habitat and a full aquarium and it was back to the hotel for some much-needed rest. Rest punctuated by a quick visit to hotels.com to add an additional night to our stay--after our disastrous time in Needles, we decided another night in Vegas was a better bet than at a Motel 6 in another meth town in the desert.
Dinner that evening was a buffet on the streets of fake-Paris. Much of the talk at dinner was hyping the dancing fountains across the street at the Bellagio. Fountains that, when confronted in person our three-year-old began screaming at the top of his lungs, "I WANT TO GO BACK TO THE HOTEL," which made the crowds assembled to watch the (truly pretty amazing) fountains love us to know end. Whoops.
Morning of the third day was a road trip to the Hoover Dam which would have been more impressive had a security checkpoint not created a 1/2 hour traffic jam in the desert. A hike around Lake Mead was quickly aborted after the destination we had chosen revealed itself to be a ghost trail thanks to the receding waters of the shrinking lake--nothing says "fun" like waking around in the desert in the heat of the day looking at a gravel bed that used to be water.
After a retreat to the darkened air conditioning of our hotel room, we emerged to have dinner at the Bellagio, a hotel that was definitely a billion dollars well spent, especially it's indoor conservatory which offers the best smelling air in all of Vegas. After the buffet (food, amazing! atmosphere, terrible!), we walked around Caesar's Palace, a place head-spinningly over-the-top. Roosevelt summed up the evening by doing a footie dance through the shops of Caesar's yelling "I LOVE LAS VEGAS" at the top of his lungs. It's true: When you're almost three, there's a lot to love.
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