Weather: sunny & hot
I arose at 8.15 after a night somewhat disturbed by the noises of the slot machines downstairs. I was somewhat relieved to find that I had a conventional shower to use rather than having to bathe in asses' milk.
I ate breakfast in the Pyramid Cafe. I opted for a continental breakfast, a little pricy but very good. I was served an excellent croissant, and also a pastry called a ``bear's claw''. This was essentially an almond-coated cinnamon Danish pastry, and was very good.
The one necessary duty for the morning was to return the car to the Alamo depot. My departure was somewhat delayed when on packing my bag for the day, I discovered that my tube of sun-screen had leaked, resulting in a sticky mess over the inside of one of the compartments. This took some time to clean up, not helped by the fact that the cream is not designed to come off easily with water.
Returning the car should in theory have been fairly simple, but owing to inadequate signage I did not spot a necessary turn until it was too late, as usual having another vehicle following close behind. A U-turn seemed out of the question on such a wide and busy road, so I opted to go around the block, but this took some time. Nevertheless I found the turn at the second attempt and made it to the depot with a few minutes to spare before 11.00, the time at which the car was due back. I made a note of the mileage I'd done (1832 miles) before leaving the vehicle. I mentioned to the attendant about the oil requiring a top-up (something about which the car did not seem entirely happy, as it had been showing the ``change oil'' light every time it was started for the past couple of days), and was told I could arrange a credit inside. This procedure took a little time, with staff arguing as to how to arrange this using their computer system.
I returned to the main airport terminal on Alamo's shuttle bus, then, after a visit to an ATM and a quick phone call to the shuttle bus company to arrange an early-morning pick-up from the hotel the next morning, tried to find a way of getting back to the Strip. Although a bus company serves the airport, it seemed to do a very poor job, with no information around as to where buses might go. On querying a driver it turned out that no direct service to the lower Strip was available and that I needed to change on Tropicana Avenue. Rather than do this, I opted to take the first bus and then walk, admiring the view of the hotels from a distance.
The first big hotel I reached was the MGM Grand, and I made my way inside, pleased to escape the heat outdoors into the climate-controlled environment. Passing row upon row of slot machines, I was tempted to try my hand briefly to see what all the fuss was about, but remembering advice to decide in advance how much I wanted to play and to stop when it had gone.
After getting through perhaps five dollars' worth of quarters, I was rewarded with a twenty dollar win, resulting in the noisy exit of a large pile of change from the machine. I carried on for a little while with the unexpected proceeds of this payout, with a few more modest payouts but an overall downward trend in the heap of change. Deciding that I was hungry, getting a little bored and now in possession of a sufficiently carryable pile of monies, I moved on, a few dollars up on the deal. Somehow I suspected the casino owners could bear this little loss.
I stopped as I went past the lion enclosure, now containing a very sleepy male. To the side were a group of substantially-sized cubs, playing with balls and each other, with one being led off from time to time to have its photo taken with tourists willing to stump up the rather hefty fee.
The exit naturally went straight into a gift shop, full of leonine memorabilia. I browsed briefly before leaving, coming around the other side of the lion enclosure to see a keeper stimulating the lion into action with the aid of a suitably tempting bone. This got the expected response, but following the snack the creature followed the example of many of its domesticated feline cousins in ignoring any attempts to get it to play.
Seeing no obvious place for a quick snack nearby, I made my way across the Strip to the New York New York hotel opposite. The exterior consisted of the expected skyscrapers, together with replicas of the Statue of Liberty and the Brooklyn Bridge. Inside, the casino area was supposedly modelled upon Central Park after dark, differing slightly from the real thing in that the only thing one was likely to lose there was money. The so-called ``Village'' area housed a variety of different eating establishments; I descended upon a delicatessen and opted for their ``Famous Chef's Salad'', although it was not clear as to whether the salad or the chef was the recipient of this apparent fame.
Refreshed, I had a look around, noting that the rest rooms were signed ``Guys'' and ``Dolls'' in the best New York tradition. Out in the casino area I observed various groups shooting craps, though with no sign of the likes of Sky Masterson or the Salvation Army nearby.
I looked in briefly at the ``Coney Island'' amusement arcade but found nothing of interest, and decided it was time to move on. Another aerial walkway took me over Tropicana Avenue to the Excalibur hotel, where I caught the ``tram'' down to Mandalay Bay. My intention was to stop at the Luxor and change into some hopefully more comfortable footwear, my feet still somewhat sore from their efforts at the Grand Canyon, but again I was caught out by the lack of a service to the Luxor southwards, needing to change at Mandalay Bay.
Having got to Mandalay Bay, I decided to take a look first at their advertised ``Shark Reef''. This was a considerable walk away, right at the other end of the hotel, over walkways overlooking their ``Mandalay Beach'' pool area, complete with actual beach and wave generators. Entrance to Shark Reef was moderately expensive, but there was quite a bit to see inside.
Various aquaria contained many different species of tropical fish, sharks and other creatures, though the place was rather short on labels. The highlight was a huge million gallon tank, the walkway going right through its centre, containing some of their largest creatures, including tiger and nurse sharks and turtles.
Also most fascinating was a tank of jellyfish, illuminated from above by coloured lights, allowing one to watch the translucent creatures slowly swimming around.
I paused briefly at the Luxor to change shoes, without much benefit to my comfort as it turned out, and consulted a leaflet listing some of the town's attractions. I noted that a pirate show at the ``Treasure Island'' (one of the hotels nearing completion when I visited in 1993) was scheduled for 17.30, so made my way up the Strip towards it, slightly hurriedly. Unfortunately when I got there I found that it was cancelled owing to ``technical difficulties'', so retired inside for a cool drink instead.
I then took a ``tram'' to the neighbouring Mirage, another hotel owned by the same company. This is home to the show of the magicians Siegfried and Roy, which features among other things the rare white tigers. A corridor gave a view of a small enclosure in which one of the tigers was visible, seemingly looking rather bored as it paced up and down. This particular tiger was white but with stripes, rather than the pure snow white of some of those bred by the entertainers. All the while, a video was playing explaining something of the history behind these beautiful animals.
I next headed out onto the Strip, now fully lit up for the evening by the multitude of neon signs. I walked past Caesar's Palace, like the Mirage and Treasure Island part of the Steve Wynn empire, and crossed the Strip to the Paris hotel, owned by the neighbouring Ballys resort. I first decided to ascend the obligatory Eiffel Tower, a half-scale replica of the real thing built according to the original blueprints though with the aid of modern construction methods. A typical Vegas geographical error meant that one entered the lifts from the Pont Alexandre III.
A short right took one up to the observation platform, where I stayed for some time admiring the night-time view across the city. Several people were congregating towards the Stripward side of the tower; upon enquiring I discovered that they were waiting for the fountain display at the Bellagio opposite (yet another part of the Steve Wynn empire), which takes place every 15 minutes in the evenings. I therefore hung around waiting for it to commence, and it proved quite a spectacular display, with lights and the faint sound of music accompanying the rise and fall of the fountains.
Returning to ground level, I set out in search of some food. Various shops and restaurants were to be found in imitation streets, with a mock Parisian air everywhere: even the restrooms were decorated in French style, with most elaborate tiling and fittings.
I considered eating at the buffet, which offered a good menu but also a long queue, then rejected it in favour of the Cafe Provençal opposite. After a short wait, I was shown to a table by a waitress, who greeted me with a ``bonsoir'' but soon lapsed into English with an American accent, typical of the place. I had a most excellent meal of medallions of pork with mushrooms, black truffles and purple mashed potatoes, followed by an orange crème brûlée, a big improvement on the food on offer in the wilds of the desert. From time to time the waiters and waitresses, all dressed in traditional French costumes, would stop serving and go into cabaret mode, singing (or at least miming) along to French songs, and indeed at one point dancing the can-can.
I left the hotel just in time to catch the end of a performance of the Bellagio fountains to the strains of Copland's Appalachian Spring, and took a few slightly experimental photographs of the night-time illuminations, then made my way slowly back to the hotel, my feet feeling somewhat tired but at least in for a bit of a rest the next day. I packed stuff up as much as I could and arranged an alarm call for the next morning, then retired to bed around midnight.