ZOUNDS!-REALLY!-OOPS! (Or, “MEET ME AT THE FREMONT AT NINE O’CLOCK” – Part Three)

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Tuesday, September 28:
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The next day, I went up Las Vegas Boulevard to where my parents tied the knot and I took a few pictures:

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[Hey, I didn't know that Michael Jordan married Joan Collins, did you? And to think I thought it odd when I first moved to Airheadzona and saw drive-through liquor stores!]
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Now, truthfully, The Little White Chapel was not nearly THIS cheesy when my parents were married there in 1958. I mean, at least at that time, the couple was expected to get out of their car in order to be hitched. But yes, just so ya know, my parents said “I do” at The Little White Chapel, and I am a byproduct of “those kinds of people”. If you don’t like that, you can just stay on The Strip with your people.

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I had a beer at Slots-A-Fun and stared out at the Circus-Circus sign, remembering all the good times I’d had in Vegas with my Pa in days long past. It was a sweet melancholy moment, and in hindsight, I realize I should have just sat at that table reminiscing and drinking cheap beer all day. But instead, I decided to go play Keno.
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To my shock and disappointment, I discovered that there are no Keno lounges in Vegas anymore. One casino manager told me there might still be one or two downtown but he wasn’t sure. Man, Keno used to be my favorite form of gambling; it was slow and relaxing, it offered the chance to get impossibly lucky and really make a mint, and the Keno lounge cocktail waitresses came around pretty regularly with free drinks. BRING BACK THE MOB! WE WANT THE MOB!

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With Keno out, I went to the Sahara and eventually found myself in the NASCAR Café Bar where they think NASCAR is “America’s greatest sport”. No, seriously. Nobody really noticed how out of place I was there because I had on my cowboy hat and by mere coincidence happened to be wearing my L.A. Rocka Pistons shirt:

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While drinking a shot of Harlem at the NASCAR bar (Yuck! – stick with Grand Marnier!), I got into a debate about literature with this 295 pound woman. She said that Louisa May Alcott, the author of ‘Little Women’, and Eve Ensler are the English language’s greatest writers. I told her she knew nothing about “little women” and I argued for William Shakespeare and Bret Easton Ellis.
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OK, I’m just kidding. What we really argued about was which were the all-time greatest sponsors of NASCAR automobiles. She said it was Goodyear Tires and Holley Carburetors; I said it was Aflac Insurance and the Muppet, Rowlf the Dog, during the 2002 Winston Cup. Boy, that shut her up. She didn’t even know about the Muppets/NASCAR connection. What a rookie! (In my line of work, I gotta know a little bit about nothin’.)
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The next time you’re at the Sahara, check out the Old School Kool framed photos of celebrities at the Sahara during The Golden Age of Vegas, which are hanging around “The Thirsty Camel” bar. But avoid that really laminated bloke at the bar who went with the “All The Margaritas You Can Drink With Breakfast For $7.99” deal and actually drank more than he could drink. Some dudes just don’t know when to say “When”.

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[A Monkees slot machine. Now that's "Neo-Old School".]

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[Hey, Bozo, who said you could wear my Stetson?!]

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Back in 1984, I made a trip to Vegas with my friends Marty, Eric, and Dean. I also brought along my buddy Muddy. (You remember I told you about him in an earlier blog bit, right?) Well, I recall that I wanted to get a picture of Muddy posing with the gorilla statue that stood on the sidewalk out in front of Circus-Circus. It breaks my heart that the gorilla is now gone. But just like it was yesterday - although it was 26 years ago! - I can remember that as my friends and I were arranging the Muddy photograph, a woman walked by, paused for a moment and then said, "Oh, you guys are BAD!" Ha! God bless that woman wherever she is today. And may the gorilla rest in peace (or pieces?)

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[Muddy does Vegas in 1984.]

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I went back to Circus-Circus and walked as quickly as possible past the bar ‘Rock & Rita’s’, the most obnoxious place in the entire world, and I called it a night a little earlier than usual because I wanted to get a decent start for home the next morning. I just watched a few episodes of Seinfeld and took this picture looking north toward downtown from my 29th-floor window:

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Wednesday, September 29:

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By some stroke of good fortune, I found myself at the old Las Vegas Sign Boneyard the next morning. It’s a place I’d heard of and have wanted to visit for several years now. I had been hoping to find the location and the remaining façade of the old Moulin Rouge casino which was a hotel/casino that catered to African-American clientele during the segregated years of Las Vegas. Unfortunately, I learned that the last remaining vestiges of the historic building had been razed just months earlier. (Somewhere I still have a gaming chip from the Moulin Rouge that my Pa gave me decades ago.)
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However, the same cool bartenderette at the El Cortez who had told me where the Moulin Rouge was located also told me where to find the Las Vegas Sign Boneyard. This is a fenced-in area north of downtown where some of the classic signs saved from the Las Vegas Golden Era are stored. With little trouble, I found The Boneyard on the morning of my departure and got a few decent pictures, including one – to my tremendous surprise and elation - of the old Algiers sign (more about the Algiers in an upcoming blog bit).
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I even managed to take a picture of “The King”, the subject of Troy Paiva’s great 2002 photograph. This is the stuff bad dreams are made of – one of the creepiest pictures I’ve ever seen and a real favorite of mine!

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["Somebody must have an orphanage for

All these things that nobody wants any more."]

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When you have the time, be sure to check out Paiva’s other fantastanightmareistic photos at his ‘Lost America’ website! He’s one of my all-time favorite photographers.

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[From the old Golden Nugget Casino.]

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[A view of an old Desert Inn sign. This one's for you, L.C.]

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Well, that was enough excitement for one old geezer for one trip and I got back “on the road” heading south. Listening to the ‘Koyaanisqatsi’ movie soundtrack while driving over the Hoover Dam was just ideal. I felt like I was actually in the movie.
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It was a fairly uneventful 6-hour drive back to Phoenix and to the 106 degree temperature waiting there for me.

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["Whellcome Back, Stephen!"]
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Yeah, I may have walked alone, but it was a fun trip nonetheless. I hate to break it to y’all because, truthfully, y’all’r good friends of mine, but, I don’t need none y’all in order to have a good time. All I need is me. And fortunately for me, I’m never far behind me.
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This trip to Las Vegas represented yet another perfect inning in the game of life for "Yours Truly": no runs, no hangovers, no errors, and no women left on base.
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~ Stephen T. McCarthy
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