CraigsList Rant of the Day

Writing about Las Vegas presents a dilemma these days: what should I say about the Great Recession?

Comments and e-mails from my readers indicate that they don't want to hear about economic anything unless it's either a) unfailingly positive and supportive of elected officials (umm, sorry, but that's not going to happen); or b) funny. If the comments on the Sun's boards are any indication, my readers are not alone in their aversion to stories about the economy. Read the comments on stories like ‘I couldn’t believe that someone with my experience couldn’t even get a job as a busboy’ or "Working class bears brunt of Las Vegas’ decay," and you'll see what I mean.

But it feels dishonest not to mention the number one issue in Las Vegas in a blog dedicated to the city.

Readers may be united in their dislike of stories about the recession's impact on people, but the people on the other side of the equation--those who have lost jobs, their home, and their life savings--are equally united in their frustration at a system that seems to be broken. And there's no better place to read about their frustration than on CraigsList.

Job seekers who spend months digging through bogus online want ads, or who wind up with jobs that barely cover the electric bill, or who are simply at the end of that proverbial rope sometimes use CraigsList for a little therapeutic cyber-venting. I've been reading these rants for a while now, and I think the really creative ones deserve some extra screen time. I'm not sure that I classify these rants as funny--although they can be--but they're definitely interesting.

Today's CraigsList rant of the day was plucked off the boards yesterday before it was flagged for removal. This gentleman was so frustrated and angry that his words were leaping up and down on the page. And he had obviously pitched a few cyber-fits before, judging from his opening comments, which I quote verbatim: "Thank YOU!!! Flagging me, over and over. This does not anger me, it validated me! It gave me much happiness, if I can piss off just ONE crappy, dirty, business/man...."

Here's an abridged and edited portion of his rant, which in its entirety was over 1,000 words long:

"... I know this most likely applies to the rest of the job searching community from pick axe to CEO, as I search for months to find work. I am just truly amazed, as I see the qualifications required by 95 % of these employers ... wanting the best and the brightest but hopefully we are ignorant with money? Expect college grads, or people who have spent years in technical schools for nothing, providing they have 20 years’ experience by the age of 24 and a masters in fornication. [Yes, he said fornication.]

I MEAN REALLY AFTER ALL THE EDUCATION THAT YOU EMPLOYERS REQUIRE, AND THEN YOU OFFER $12-15 AN HOUR, DO YOU REALLY THINK, IF I AM THAT EDUCATED THAT YOUR MATH FOR COMPENSATION EVEN ADDS UP????????????? [If capitals equal shouting, I'm surprised this man did not break his keyboard at this point.]

I LOVE the “NEW” American dream....

I guess it is time to leave this town after 31 years here....

Oh, and when the economy does come back around to at least a stable snail crawl.... I hope ALL you shi**y companies out there that have played on people's desperation get what's coming to you!!!"

Bud Meyers, the bartender who was profiled in the Sun's article I mentioned above, has been blogging about his experiences, and getting a lot of media attention.

______________________

Photo courtesy of Robert Couse-Baker.

This CraigsList ad was removed from the board the day after I spotted it. The title of his post was "Pipe dreams for less than un-employment (Lost Vegas)."

Art in Las Vegas: "Emergy" at the Charleston Heights Arts Center

Before I went to the current exhibit at the Charleston Heights Arts Center, "Emergy" by Maria Michails, I read some intriguing descriptions. The Las Vegas Sun's blurb is representative: "human-powered mechanized rowboat that generates power to a photo gallery." Hmmm. The idea of a rowboat in an exhibit gave me mental images of a large-scale room, but the actual display is small and curved, like a desert slot canyon. The rowboat is stationary, and it links the rower to the display's pictures in a very direct way.

Michails' images are presented on rectangular glass tiles lit from behind. Her photographs of the Strip and Lake Mead capture the beauty of each place, while juxtaposing the hungry lights of the Strip against shots of Lake Mead's "bathtub ring," the visible evidence of its drastically lowered water level. All the pictures aren't lit, however, unless you get in the boat and row to power the lights. Water and electricity are intrinsically linked in the desert: you can't have one without the other.

"Emergy" is on display through February 17. Charleston Heights also hosts plays and concerts, so ask for a program schedule while you're there.

_______________

Photography by Terrisa Meeks

Two Weeks Ago in Las Vegas: Snow!

Today the winter weather in Las Vegas is at its best: 70° and sunny. Yesterday at the grocery store, I saw people in tank tops and shorts. Hard to believe that just two weeks ago, this was what it looked like in my backyard. We get snow almost every year in the neighborhood I live in, and I love that it requires no shoveling and makes such pretty pictures.

Las Vegas Urban Wildlife

You might think that bachelor party attendees are Las Vegas’ only wildlife, but I’m happy to tell you that actual animals—with four legs and/or wings—live in Las Vegas. In my neighborhood, we have woodpeckers (they keep trying to nest in our stucco), finches, sparrows, doves, grackles, robins, hummingbirds, and pigeons. I’ve seen hawks, a great horned owl, and a turkey vulture. Rats have moved in, much to our dismay. When I saw one running across the street recently, I initially thought it was a confused White-tailed Antelope Squirrel. But some of my favorite desert critters are lizards. We have a wealth of them in our backyard, some of them with identifiable characteristics—like the one I call Hook Tail. At my mom-in-law’s condo, they’re in the shrubs and rocks. My brother-in-law, whom I’m now calling “The Lizard Whisperer” caught this tiny little guy on Mom's patio. I think I saw its dad yesterday, but as soon as he saw me looking at him, he took off. If you want to see the wildlife in Las Vegas, you've got to pay attention. Unlike those bachelor party attendees, the real wildlife is a little bit shy.

____________

Photograph courtesy of Sandy Hoskins

Vintage Vegas

Last week, the remains of the Moulin Rouge were demolished. Las Vegas’ first integrated casino was open for only six months in 1955, but until July 22, 2010, talk had persisted about resurrecting or preserving the historic site. The sad, lingering death of the Moulin Rouge is representative of the way Las Vegas has traditionally treated its history. Like a former lady of the evening turned legit, Vegas likes to ignore its past.

Paradoxically, those of us who have been here for a while enjoy a round of “I remember when,” as in: I remember when Rainbow was a dirt road; I remember when the sand storms were so bad you couldn’t drive; I remember when you could drive on Fremont Street; I remember when Red Rock was a long drive out of town; I remember when Lake Mead over-flowed Hoover Dam’s spillways. (And I’m only using my own “I remembers.” My pals have a bunch more.) I damn near cried when I watched a YouTube video of the Strip in 1991. There was the Hacienda, the Glass Pool Inn, the Dunes, the Sands, Wet ‘n Wild—all long gone now. But I reminded myself that time marches on for everyone, especially for those of us in the City of Neon. In another twenty years, can you image what Vegas will look like?
__________________

For more on the Moulin Rouge, read the LV Sun's story, which also contains pics and video.

Photo of Moulin Rouge (on “Life”) courtesy of Mark Holloway, a.k.a Nevada Tumbleweed

Sunset in Las Vegas

Monday night my son ran inside and told me, “You’ve got to come outside and see the sunset! Rays of light are shooting out—it’s like all wah-WAA!” He waved his arms to indicate this sunset was so majestic that it required angelic musical accompaniment. Everyone went outside and, sure enough, we were all immediately snapping pictures as the sun went down. Wah-WAA, indeed.

In Memory of Tobin Talbott

Last Tuesday, a good man died. Tobin Talbott, 34, an equipment operator for Las Vegas Paving, was killed in a construction accident. His loss has shocked the tight-knit Vegas community of truckers, operators, and construction professionals. Tobin was one of the best in the business, working on Southern Nevada’s roads for over 15 years. If you live in Las Vegas, you’ve almost certainly driven over a road that Tobin helped build. Several of his friends have speculated that God must have a big construction project going on, and since Tobin was the best, well, that’s who He picked.

Tobin was more than one of the best at his profession. He was a generous, caring, fun-loving man who always had time to help a friend. Tobin was one of those rare people with a naturally even-tempered and level-headed disposition—a rarity in the ultra-macho world of construction—and his easy-going nature won him friends wherever he went. Everyone who knew Tobin has a story about his generosity and thoughtfulness.

When his close friends and family gathered last week to honor his memory—Irish wake style, with shots of Jack Daniels, his favorite drink, for a toast—almost 100 people were there. That alone should tell you how beloved Tobin is. For his memorial service this coming Sunday, Tobin’s family reserved a chapel that will seat 300, and they’re not sure that will accommodate everyone. On Sunday, I imagine the crowd will have a chance to smile as well as cry when we say good-bye to this much-loved man. Tobin wasn’t the kind of guy to sit around drowning in sorrow, and he certainly wouldn’t want his friends and family to send him off in a flood of tears. It wasn’t his style, and those who knew him have no shortage of smile-worthy stories about him.

At the gathering last week, his friend Scotty told me, “If Tobin were here and had his pickup truck parked out front, and someone got in their car and smashed right into his truck, Tobin would walk up to them and say, ‘It’s all good. Don’t worry about it. We’ll get it taken care of.’ " Tobin was the kind of man who would drop in at a friend’s house to say hello, see his buddy in the midst of a big project, and then stay for the rest of the day to help. You didn’t have to ask. If Tobin saw you needed a hand, he just pitched in. He generously gave of his time and was willing to loan out anything he had. Tobin knew the true meaning of friendship, and he took every opportunity to show it.

But no description of Tobin is complete without mentioning two things: the desert and his daughter. Tobin loved those sandy, remote places where a man can zoom over the dunes on a quad or a sand rail, and from the time his little girl was a baby, she was out there with him. His love for his daughter was something you noticed immediately when you saw them together. Tobin's easy-going, loving nature made him a spectacular dad. Whenever I saw him at “sand camp,” as I call the city of RVs at the base of the Dumont Sand Dunes, Tobin was usually sprawled in a camp chair, having a drink or shooting the breeze with friends, and smiling widely. At Sand Camp, surrounded by his friends, his wife, and his daughter, it was hard to catch Tobin without a smile.

Tobin leaves behind countless friends and family members, including a beautiful five-year old daughter who looks just like him. His wife, Robin, is inspiringly stoic; she told me that Tobin’s love is what keeps her strong. Tobin was an only child, and his parents, Greg and Debbie, are struggling to accept a world that doesn’t include their son. God may have needed Tobin for a project on Heaven’s Highway, but down here, his loss is felt deeply.

Services for Tobin Talbott are Sunday, July 11, at Bunkers (925 LVBN), at 1:00 p.m. A visitation will be held before the service at noon.

A fund has been established for Tobin's wife and daughter. Donations can be made at any Wells Fargo bank to account 6453859958 for Robin Talbott.

Thinking of Helicopters

I’ve been thinking about helicopters a lot recently. More specifically, I’ve been thinking about the helicopter in this picture and my flight in it to the bottom of the Grand Canyon (tour thanks to TourGuy.com). It wasn't my first ride in a helicopter, but it was definitely the most fun. (My first helicopter ride was in a police helicopter when I was working at Las Vegas Metro's command post during a Culinary Union strike, but that is another story.)

One notable difference between my TourGuy flight and that long-ago police ride: champagne. Before we took off from the Boulder City Airport, the pilot thoughtfully pointed out not only the location of the air sickness bags, but also cargo bay containing the champagne. I liked her right away. After we had flown over the Hoover Dam Bypass Bridge (officially the Mike O’Callaghan-Pat Tillman Memorial Bridge) and a portion of Lake Mead, we entered the western portion of the Grand Canyon, which is on Hualapai Reservation land. We flew into the canyon and gradually descended four thousand feet. We landed on a relatively flat piece of land just above the Colorado River, and then we got to drink the champagne and watch the sun set. A few wildflowers were still blooming. Other helicopters buzzed overhead, but when nothing was in the sky, it was wonderfully silent. Only the tops of the canyon walls caught the light, creating natural neon. All too soon, it was time to get back into the helicopter and fly toward the sunset.

Visit TourGuy.com for more information about Grand Canyon helicopter tours and other Las Vegas adventures.
You can read more about my helicopter trip on my NileGuide Las Vegas blog.
All photographs by Terrisa Meeks

Lovely Boulder City

Writers aren't supposed to describe small towns as quaint or charming, but Boulder City can't help but be both. It's got antique shops, sidewalk cafes, a surplus of shady parks, public art, and history to spare. The city was created to house the workers who built Boulder Dam (today we know it as Hoover Dam), and it's a rarity in Nevada: a town without gambling. Boulder City has been slot-machine-free from its inception to today. You will not find anyone handing out fake Mardi Gras beads (or pamphlets for adults-only services) nor see any exploding volcanoes in Boulder City. It's only 30 regular miles from Las Vegas, but in a different dimension, atmosphere-wise. Boulder City's Historic District is terrifically strollable, and a great place to stop for lunch and a walk. The Historic District's buildings date from the 1930s, proving that not every old building in Southern Nevada has been imploded.

I spent the afternoon wandering around the Historic District in Boulder City several weeks ago. The sidewalk cafes looked so inviting--perfect places for a glass of wine, something yummy, and some people watching. Walk around the Historic District and you'll see an assortment of sidewalk statues: baby elephants, motorcycles, children, and a woman permanently waiting to cross the street. The side streets have a decent smattering of cafes and shops, and it's not hard to envision the area completely full of stores and eateries one day (which I sincerely hope it is). One must-see in downtown Boulder City: The Boulder Dam Hotel. It's home to the Boulder City/Hoover Dam Museum, which is an absolute steal for a $2 admission.
______________
All photos by Terrisa Meeks
Read more about Boulder City on NileGuide.

The Paw Injury at Red Rock

Last week we took two outings, and both our dogs came with us. That was partly because I needed some dog models for pictures to accompany an article, and partly because the weather was no nice. Unfortunately, on the first outing my border collie took a spill jumping out of my husband's truck (we didn't see the fall, just the dirt all over the side of her face). The girl's paw injury wasn't healed when we drove up to Red Rock, but we didn't know that until she had walked for a while. Then she sat down and whinned, so she got carried back to the truck. Talk about a dog's life.

Wanderable Las Vegas

Recently, I wrote a post for NileGuide about Aria, the hotel casino at City Center. City Center is the Strip's newest incarnation, the mixed-use development every high-rise wanted to be, back in the days of the "Manhattanization" of Las Vegas. One of the things I mentioned in my post was that Las Vegas is new to the mixed-use idea--hotels, shops, residences, restaurants, entertainment, business areas, and livable, walkable spaces--but City Center isn't the only mixed-use development in town (although it's certainly the largest and most luxurious). The District, adjacent to Green Valley Ranch Resort in Henderson, is a smaller, more modest-sized collection of stores, restaurants, condos, movie theaters, and (of course) a casino at Green Valley Ranch. If you're looking for that chic, wanderable urban feeling in the Las Vegas 'burbs, it's worth checking out.

Additional reading:
This week's CityLife article about The District, "Urban paradise."
____________________
Photo courtesy of JNovak at http://www.flickr.com/photos/88966562@N00/2758622515

Vegas Seven: The New Weekly in Town

There's a new free weekly in town, Vegas Seven. It's like Las Vegas Weekly, only with more fashion and general interest articles. It's mildly like City Life, only without the political slant or the adults-only ads in the back. Vegas Seven is available at newsstands around Southern Nevada and at the library. It's loaded with articles and blurbs about restaurants, performers, nightclubs, and things to do, along with a heap of full-page ads for things like Grey Goose vodka and the Jaguar dealership. Vegas Seven's mix of local events and general interest pieces seems like a good way to appeal to both residents and visitors. Next time you're at the 7-Eleven, grab a copy.
_________________
Photo of Las Vegas Strip, 2004, courtesy of Joakim Syversen at http://www.sxc.hu/photo/217292

The Vegas Girl & Bingo

I played my very first game of bingo a couple of nights ago. There I was with my dauber and a nifty little computer screen, and boy, was I lost. The bingo room ladies probably talked about me later because I was so clueless. I had no idea there was more than one way to make bingo--six packs and nine packs, along with other configurations. I was on one of the last three games before I got all that figured out. And who knew there would be an entire sheet of "cards" for me to frantically scan, searching for B Whatever That Number Was? When I got home, my husband asked me, "Did you win?"

"No. At least I don't think so. I might have had a bingo, but I was too confused to be sure," I told him.

I don't gamble much, but I felt certain I could grasp bingo. Turns out keeping up with those alphanumerics is tougher than I thought. I was almost embarrassed. Me, a Las Vegas native and the daughter of a serious gambler, confused by bingo? Scandalous. I can live without understanding doubling down in 21, and I've never had a desire to learn Texas hold 'em, but... bingo? After putting big blue blots all over my cards, but never in the pattern necessary to shout out that magic word, I consoled myself with a few nickels in the poker machine, and went home. Who knew bingo had a learning curve?
_____________
Photo courtesy of sarae: http://www.flickr.com/photos/sarae/ / CC BY-ND 2.0

Las Vegas During Earth Hour 2010

On Saturday night, my family and I drove down to the Venetian. We wanted to get a look at the Strip during Earth Hour, and we thought we'd do some wandering around while we were there. Wandering around any of the Strip hotels provides heaps of free entertainment--especially on Saturday night.

The first thing I noticed was that the "darkened" Strip was still very bright. You could see the hotels clearly, and several of them had their names illuminated. The overall effect was interesting: a subdued Las Vegas that looked very much like any other city full of big buildings. I was surprised to see how much light was present even with the hotels' big lights off.

At 9:30, when the Strip's exterior lights came on, it was a gradual change. "That was pretty anti-climactic," complained my husband and son. But when you compare the picture taken during Earth Hour to the one taken a few minutes after it ended (and notice the Flamingo isn't yet re-lit), you see a marked difference.

After I was done taking pictures, we left the roof of the Venetian's parking garage and wandered around the Grand Canal Shoppes. When my son paused in front of the gelato stand in St. Mark's square, we convinced him that a stop at the grocery store on the way home would net him more ice cream in the long run. We stopped in the Peter Lik gallery and marveled over the incredible photographs. As we wandered past the Grand Canal's expensive storefronts, my husband and I watched the drunks stagger by. (A word of advice: Pace yourselves, people--10:00 p.m. is far too early to be drunk in Las Vegas on a Saturday night.) The women out for the night were stuffed into dresses so short, tight, and tiny that they barely covered the essentials.

We decided to go across the street to watch the Mirage's volcano, but I hadn't considered the Spring Break crowd outside Tao. Throngs of people dressed to the nines were crowded from the bottom of the casino's escalator to the upstairs entryway outside Tao, then outside, where it looked like some kind of elaborate red-velevet-rope system was underway. We backtracked and found another way out to the Strip, but when we checked the time and realized it would be another half an hour before the volcano erupted, we decided to head for home (with an ice cream stop on the way) rather than hang around any longer.

As we were driving home, we got a good look at the fully lit Strip, all the hotels covered in lights. I thought the Strip looked fine without all her pizzazz, but Las Vegas minus her lights is like a showgirl without eyelashes and sequins.
____________
My pictures of the Strip

Las Vegas Goes Dark For Earth Hour

Before Earth Hour, the only time I remember the Strip going dark was after one of its beloved entertainers passed away. I remember when Sammy Davis, Jr., died in 1990. My husband and I drove to a dirt lot west of the Strip and watched the lights go out in honor of the departed Rat Packer.

This Saturday, March 27, between 8:30 and 9:30, the Strip will go dark to make a statement about climate change. Downtown and neighborhood hotels are also dimming their lights. Las Vegas is a city known for its lavish, over-the-top light displays, and this hour without neon signifies that we are concerned about climate change. With all the talk about solar energy in Southern Nevada, who knows--maybe one day all our neon will be powered with renewable energy.

What are you doing this Saturday evening? How about turning off your lights for an hour? And if you get a chance, go see the Strip. Las Vegas doesn't let people see her with her lights off very often.
___________
Photo courtesy of Sarah Nichols: http://www.flickr.com/photos/pocheco/ / CC BY-SA 2.0

Rats in Las Vegas

Many new things have arrived in my hometown over the years. Mosquitoes. Traffic jams. Urban sprawl. Most recently, roof rats.

I was surprised to learn that roof rats have been here since 1990. I remember reading about the rodents' arrival in Spanish Trail, but I can't say I've given the creatures much thought since then. From the information on the Southern Nevada Health District's website, I should have been thinking about rat prevention long ago. My older neighborhood has everything a rat could want: water, yummy food, and plenty of mature landscaping in which to hide.

After my brother-in-law found two rats in our barbeque, we've been on high alert. My dogs go into rat hunting mode as soon as they hit the backyard. My husband and son look for evidence of rats every day. Until a few nights ago, I was unconcerned. Well, I was unconcerned after I had my husband construct a rat barrier on our dryer vent. Rats in the backyard are one thing. Rats in my home are another.

We were outside a few evenings ago, sitting at our patio table, playing Monopoly, when our dogs started barking and attacking one of the shrubs. If you have dogs, you know there's a difference between the bark that says, "Look, there's a person walking by the yard" and the bark announcing, "Holy Chihuahua, there's a rat in this bush!" Mr. Rat knew the difference. He burst from the shrub. He quickly made it to the top of the fence and scurried away from the dogs. "It's a rat! It's a rat!" I yelled. Mr. Rat paused briefly behind another shrub, hopefully to make a note not to hang out in the yard with the vicious dogs and excited humans, then he ran into our neighbor's backyard, the rat's long, thin tail visible as he dropped into the safety of an empty yard.

"We have to get rat traps," my husband informed me.

"Can't we just catch them and keep them as pets? Can we do catch and release?" I asked. I once caught a mouse in my desk at City Hall and kept her for three years before she passed away. I really don't like killing things. Besides, since I have a child, won't I just be buying a rodent at PetSmart sometime soon? Why pay for one when I can just capture one for free? I mean, heck, look at the rat in this picture. He's adorable.

"No." My husband was firm. "They're not native. They carry disease. We need to get rat traps."

So far, we haven't picked up any traps. I'm relying on the Dog Patrol to scare away marauding rats. But I have a sinking feeling that I'll hear snapping traps sometime soon.
______________
Picture courtesy of Jans Canon at flickr:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/43158397@N02/ / CC BY 2.0

Spring in Las Vegas

The plum tree is beginning to bloom, and I noticed the birds are back in a big way. Everything around here has the feel of spring to it. I finally got my hummingbird feeder back up, and I've had a few visitors.

A couple of weeks ago, we got surprise visitors. With the weather now warm enough to barbeque, my son and brother-in-law went outside one night to fire up the grill. They opened the lid and found two rats. (Cue the screaming and horror music.) I was glad they didn't have the gas turned on because they were ready to make flaming rats. Now we're keeping the grill cleaned up more diligently. Rats in Las Vegas! Who would have ever imagined.

But enough about that... I'd rather think about the beauty of a Las Vegas spring. It's so much nicer than flaming rodents.

_____________

My photo of my neighborhood.

Hoover Dam & A Las Vegas Childhood

"We could be standing on dead bodies" might not normally be a bit of conversation you remember from your childhood. But if you grew up in Las Vegas when I did, it was a staple line for field trips to Hoover Dam. Popular myth said that some dam workers were entombed in the cement of the immense structure, and it made a great story for elementary kids to tell each other. It's not true, by the way. Men did die while building Boulder Dam (it became Hoover later), but they didn't leave the bodies in the concrete.

I was writing about Hoover Dam recently for NileGuide, and I couldn't help but remember what the tours were like before the new visitor center and a post-9/11 world. No fancy escalator, parking garage or ticket counter--you parked on top of the spillways and got your tickets from the glass booth on top of the dam, the now-empty one that faces the road. You stood in a line that snaked back along the sidewalk, and while people waited they leaned over the side of the wall and looked down the dam's 726 foot face. Beyond that, the Colorado River gurgled into Black Canyon. Admittance was something like $5. You went into the structure from one of the elevators in the middle of the dam, the ones screaming Art Deco, and as you dropped down at some astronomical rate, the tour guide explained just how fast you were moving. Poof, you were at the bottom. We got to walk past the generators, outside onto the bottom of the dam to look up, and we were guided through rough-hewn caves weeping Colorado River water. On one trip, we went into a room where we could stand on top of platforms under which river water flowed through pipes, the force of it strong enough that you could feel it under your feet.

The tours aren't the only thing that has changed at Hoover Dam. I remember when Lake Mead overflowed into the spillways and created twin waterfalls on the intake side of the dam, one on the Nevada side, one one the Arizona side. The mist could be seen as you approached, and standing on the side of the spillway for long left you drenched. Now, rocky beach leads up to the spillways.

One thing that never changes is the majesty of Hoover Dam. It's an architectural marvel, a piece of living history, and surprisingly beautiful.
___________________
Picture courtesy of Richard Wasserman at http://tiny.cc/fALkI

The Old Las Vegas Convention Center

I've been going through a lot of Flickr pages recently, looking for pictures of Las Vegas. I came across a collection of old postcards by Nevada Tumbleweed, and this one really took me back. This is the Convention Center I grew up with, although with a few more buildings around it. As I understand it, yes, that is a horse racing track in back of it, where the Las Vegas Country Club now stands. I remember the International being built next to it, and eating dinner at the top of the Landmark when it still stood across the street. The steakhouse restaurant at the top of the Landmark rotated. I loved it. The Chateau Vegas, a red-velvet upholstered restaurant with a harpist, was on the south side of Desert Inn, long before it was all converted to an underpass next to the current Convention Center. The Alpine Village was across the street, although I never got a chance to eat there because my dad didn't like German food.

Some of my best memories are at the Helldorado rodeos at this space-ship-like Convention Center. My parents loved the rodeo, and we never missed a Helldorado. The place was always packed to the rooftops with rowdy fans, and we always sat close enough that when the broncos kicked up dirt, sometimes it landed on us.

But my favorite memory of the old Convention Center is watching the fireworks from the steps in front of a bar where my dad worked. It was a little place two floors up, on the other side of Paradise Road. The owner was an Irishman straight from the old country (I think his name was McGary), and I could come in the place as a long as I didn't sit at the bar or get too close to a slot machine. Whatever the occasion was that night, Mom and I went in late to visit Dad and watch the show. I remember the three of us sitting on the steps facing the Convention Center, watching the fireworks burst into colors over the top of the dome.
______________________
Photo courtesy of Mark Holloway at http://tiny.cc/V7HxF

Red Rock Snow

Last week's wet weather brought a coating of snow to Red Rock Canyon. I didn't have time to drive through the loop, but I did drive up to the 13 Mile Campground, where I took these pictures. I told my son I thought it looked like God had sprinkled Red Rock with powdered sugar.