2734Christmas in Vegas
Dec. 20th, 2004 10:17 am
Dec. 20, 2004
Bite at the Stratosphere?
http://www.reviewjournal.com/lvrj_home/2004/Dec-19-Sun-
2004/living/25450759.html
Sunday, December 19, 2004
Copyright © Las Vegas Review-Journal
HOLIDAY IN VEGAS: Don't Sit By the Fire
From suite full of bears to light show downtown, there's plenty to
see and do in December
By SONYA PADGETT
REVIEW-JOURNAL
The great thing about holidays in Las Vegas: You'll never lack for
something to do, especially on the Strip or downtown. For some
serious holiday fun, check into some of the following attractions and
events.
Visit plush suite
FAO Schwarz loans more than 500 teddy bears to the Four Seasons for
its annual "Teddy Bear Fantasy Suite." Bears are arranged in a
variety of scenes, including a safari, slumber party, bubble bath and
this picture out of the Old West.
The attraction is free to the public and open daily from 11 a.m. to 7
p.m. through Tuesday at 3960 Las Vegas Blvd. South.
Feel free to take photos of your favorite bears.
Shop under the lights
Check out the International Holiday Market at the Fremont Street
Experience, 425 Fremont St., featuring dozens of vendors from around
the world. The market is set up like a holiday village and offers
shoppers a variety of gift-buying opportunities, from clothing to the
folk art of Europe.
It is open daily from 10 a.m. to 10 p.m. weekdays and until midnight
on weekends through Dec. 29.
While there, check out the Christmas tree and holiday-themed light
shows on the large canopy overhead. It's all free.
Stop to smell the flowers
Six flower-covered Arctic polar bears are among this year's
attractions at the Bellagio's conservatory, 3600 Las Vegas Blvd.
South.
About this time every year, the horticulture staff installs a floral
show with a winter holiday feel. This season's display includes giant
ice bursts suspended from the ceiling and a 45-foot holiday tree
decorated with sparkling mirrors and ornaments. An 18-point star tops
the tree.
Elsewhere at the resort, holiday music accompanies the fountain show
every day in Lake Como. Showtimes are 3 to 7 p.m. on the half-hour
and every 15 minutes afterward until midnight. The attractions are
free. \
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http://www.sealander.com/las_vegas.html
Christmas in Las Vegas - by John Sealander
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The parking lots were full. And the airport itself was a cornucopia
of Christmas cliches. Everywhere you looked there were people walking
briskly toward their plane, wearing festive red and green holiday
sweaters, festooned with sequins and reindeer. They carried big,
bright red Neiman sonar0m sacks, filled with colorfully wrapped gifts.
Many were traveling with small children, and most were struggling
with far more luggage than they would ever be able to squeeze into
the overhead compartment.
I almost thought I had made the wrong decision, until I negotiated my
way through a final throng of festive travelers and entered the
jetway to my own plane. As the flight attendants greeted me, I looked
down the aisle toward my seat and saw that I had entered another
world. There were no holiday sweaters on this plane. No children. And
not a present in sight. Passengers were dressed in a muted pallet of
grays and black, with the occasional metallic gold leather purse as
an accent. Two men in the seat behind me were not talking about
relatives or stringing Christmas lights. The were talking about where
to find a good single deck game and wondering if anyone still offered
10 times odds on craps. I tightened my seat belt as the flight
attendant came on the intercom. "Welcome on board." she said, "we
will be flying non-stop from Dallas to Las Vegas."
Rich Hall once said that spending Christmas in Las Vegas is a lot
like spending Halloween at the Vatican. But that, of course is part
of the appeal. As I catch a cab at the airport for the strip, I'm
surprised at how crowded the place is. It is not a typical crowd
though. Not as many college kids. Not as many children. Not as many
tourists, period. The people I see outside the window as we drive
down Las Vegas Blvd. are regulars. We have returned like lemmings to
the village of the lost souls.
As we pull up to the Mirage, I hear another cabdriver come on the
radio. "Hey, is it Christmas Eve tonight?" he says. It is a
legitimate question. During our drive I have not seen a single Santa.
There are no Christmas trees in front of the casinos. And no holiday
lights have been strung across Las Vegas Blvd. The place looks
exactly the same as it does the other 364 days of the year. My cab
driver starts laughing at the voice on the radio. "What's it to you,"
he replies through his microphone. "You"re going to be working
anyway."
Las Vegas reminds me that nationalism and regional boundaries have
become largely irrelevant. Americans are in the minority here. At
breakfast you will hear French being spoken at a table to your left,
German behind you, and Japanese everywhere else. The new world order
is not being worked out behind closed doors at the United Nations, it
is evolving one-day-at-a-time in breakfast buffets throughout Las
Vegas. You look out over the crowd and realize that wars are fought
because the world's wealth is so poorly distributed. There are few
natural enemies. With plenty of money in their pockets, Iranians eat
breakfast next to Israelis, Germans next to Japanese. Even the French
seem to get along. Although some would long for a world without
money, the answer seems to lie in finding a world where everybody has
money. There are few fights on full bellies.
Having discovered the secret to world peace in the Mirage breakfast
buffet, I begin to look for the secret to happiness, and discover
that things are not quite so simple. In this village of lost souls,
you see a lot of people alone. You quickly realize that money and
good looks are no guarantee of happiness. Waiting for a table in the
Planet Hollywood bar I notice that I'm seated next to a striking
woman in a black Donna Karan dress. She is staring at the ceiling
with the saddest look on her face and her hands in front of her face
almost as if she is praying. She doesn't move for at least five
minutes. I have to look away because I am intruding on someone's
privacy.
Las Vegas is an intensely private world. You walk through the casinos
and see a thousand faces, all looking inward, mechanically hitting
the spin button on the slots with their index finger. Their game of
choice has become an analogy for their life. Here you can play out in
a few hours a cycle of luck that might take years to visualize in
real life. The casino floor becomes a laboratory experiment. And you
are the lab rat. Every turn of the wheel, every toss of the dice
becomes an opportunity to ask, "Does she love me?" "Will I get that
promotion?" "What would happen if I moved to Oregon tomorrow?" You
look at your life and realize how much of it is actually outside your
control. You could get hit by a truck tomorrow. Or you could just as
easily find the soul mate you have always been looking for.
It is interesting to watch people try to manipulate luck. You realize
that most people are very uncomfortable with random chance. They have
to wrap this randomness in a cloak of order so that their life has
meaning. Everybody has their game. Control freaks love blackjack, and
try their best to become card counters so they can beat the system.
Las Vegas loves blackjack players. Their illusion of being in control
has made the city rich. Roulette players seem the most content with
the random nature of life. Some of them probably have "Shit Happens"
bumper stickers on the pickups, but many seem to approach their fate
with grace and style. Craps players are almost universally men, and
most of them are the kind of guy that wonders if he's going to "Get
lucky" on a date long before he wonders what his dinner companion's
dreams and aspirations are. Personally I like roulette. I watch the
wheel spin and wonder about the stochastic process. This is my notion
of luck: that you can shoot an arrow in a general direction, but you
can never be certain exactly where it will land.
In certain parts of town, it is easy to assume that everybody has a
more glamorous and exciting life than you do. I'm eating dinner with
a friend at Spago. We're out on the patio where we can people watch
during our meal. There is this continual parade of glamorous people.
Impossibly thin women in little Betsy Johnson knit dresses. Groups of
guys dressed in black and looking suspiciously like members of U2.
There are older men who look like their Learjet is waiting for them
at the airport. And there's always at least one bridal couple,
walking in their wedding garb through the Forum Shops as if nothing
in the world mattered.
Everyone in the restaurant is speaking a different language, and I
start to feel sorry for myself. I don't know any foreign languages.
And even though I'm a firm believer in luck, I'm not really much of a
gambler. I start to rant to my friend about how my life is not all
that exciting, but she cuts me off quickly. She's heard this all
before. "Quit complaining about not doing anything creative," she
says. "You've spent all your creative energy creating this perfect
little world where nothing can touch you." "Nothing good is ever
going to happen, unless you're willing to let something bad
happen." "You've got to take a few more risks." Janet understands
risk intuitively, while I tend to philosophize. She is really the
reason we're here.
I ask her to expand on this notion that creativity must come through
pain. "You know, the best song that sineater Clapton ever wrote," she
said, "Came after his kid fell out of a hundred story building and
died." This is a stark analogy, and it leaves me uncomfortable, but
she has made her point.
I decide during dessert that one of my New Year's resolutions will be
to take a few more risks.
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