Seeking An Extraordinary Life - A Travel Journal

When we left our gallant santas they were munching it up in the Golden Gate casino's restaurant.

Moving on, Santa acquires some unofficial supporting troops... ...on the way to "Hogs N Heifers"... ...a bar on the popular Coyote Ugly theme (dancing on the bar encouraged). The staff are...friendly, and santas feel at home right away... ...although they do feel the need to institute a more interesting door policy. Santa plays nice with the locals... ...until it's time for the ladies to show... ...some serious bar dancing prowess. The bar staff try to show Santa up, but just end up looking foolish. Next Santa moves on to Mickey Finz Tiki Bar, for a very quick cocktail before a fast relocate to... ...some other dark place, the name of which Santa forgets... ...and finally to the Beauty Bar, where the last of Santa's energy seems to run out. Finally at around 4am, the last of the straggling Santas collapse at Fitzgeralds' casino restaurant, for a pretty good breakfast and some very quiet, croaky conversation. One of our honorary Santas, finally exhausted by his titanic adventure with the Red Horde. Santa can rest. I make my way out down Fremont Street, to the nearest bus stop, and don't have long to wait before... ...the Deuce double-decker carries me to the Strip. One last look before I catch my bus home. It has been, on the whole... ...an exceptionally good night. By the time I hit the sack it's gone 6am, and I catch about two hours of sleep. Now I'm groggy, headachey, a bit nauseated and feel a bit down from the after-effects of exhaustion and alcohol. But when I think back over last night I don't regret a moment. I think of the tourists happy and confused faces as they got their photos taken with dozens of santas waving beer cans and shouting anarchistic slogans. Of the sad and lifeless expressions of casino slot-machine addicts turned to joy and wonder as we swept by, singing at the tops of our voices and handing out candy canes and condoms. I think of the conga line we formed as we arrived at the Gold Digger, managing to incorporate almost every single person in the club. Of the bouncer who tried to drag us off the go-go dancers' stage, and the happy stream of santas climbing up behind him as fast as he yanked us off. Of the anti-gay religious protestor on Fremont Street we spent about five happy minutes annoying the hell out of. Of the Chippendales who abducted the lady santas for a free photo opportunity. Most of all, I think of the many unhappy people we met along the way who were enveloped in waves of Santa hugs and walked away smiling. It's good to be Santa.

Of course, having posted hurriedly that I was taking a break, I realised that I'd broken off before posting my Vegas Santacon posts, which just seemed like bad timing. So I'll put these up next, then I'll see you all after Christmas!
I spend a fair bit of the day putting together my Santa suit for the evening's Santa Rampage. Once again I'll be going as Cthulhu Claus, which means I'll be in some way representing a 200-foot-tall, winged, face-tentacled elder god who rises from the ocean to devour men whole. In 2005 I made a full set of felt face tentacles, bat wings and painted myself green - I was very happy with the costume but it was a nightmare to put together, I stained everything I touched green and the tentacles proved incompatible with drinking beer.


In 2006 I went with a simpler "high priest" theme, with black-rimmed eyes, a Cthulhu symbol on my santa hat and of course the Santa Staff of Doom (featuring Randolph Carter the Christmas Skull). More comfortable and practical (although the staff proved a bit of a pain when it was time to dance or otherwise move freely).

This year, since I'm in a largely unfamiliar city and experiencing what might be a very different kind of Santacon, I decide to go with simple and convenient - more of a generic horror santa costume, of which Cthulhu would at least approve, I feel.

I've already obtained my suit. Cheap santa suits seem to be in much shorter supply over here than they are back home, and I finally run out of time and am forced to spend $50.00 on this one at Target. It's a damn good suit though.


Compared to the cheap suits I've used before, this is luxury - material that doesn't start to separate as soon as you put it on (and actually has a lining to prevent scratchiness!), boot tops, a real zip on the jacket, and a belt with a metal buckle! The beard is made of individual (nylon) hairs instead of being cut out of furry material. Very classy, and perfect for my plan.


Take beard...


(which I'm overjoyed to discover comes in its own hairnet)


...and weave in boiled chicken bones! I had to eat twenty spicy wings and drumsticks to obtain these. God, how I suffer for my art.


Ta-da! Actually it looks a bit crap on camera. But fairly creepy in real life.


The jacket gets a row of bones down the front too - I sew a few stitches of white thread in at intervals, then wind the other end of the thread round a superglue-coated bone. It holds really well.


I also find one of my old hitching flags, and add it for a patriotic touch. It only remains to gather my supplies (camera, route plan and a sports bottle full of brandy) and head out to catch the bus downtown (Deidre's already left for Arizona and Mark's got a recording session).


I've allowed an hour and a half, which will be just about enough to catch the two buses to get me to Fremont Street. But I've been waiting at the bus stop no more than two minutes before a blue SUV pulls up, and James says "Santa can't be waiting at no bus stop. Where you going to?" Sometimes people are amazing. I've met some generous people when I've been hitch-hiking but it's the first time I've been offered a lift when I wasn't even looking for it!


As a result I'm comfortably early, and relax with a pre-game drink in Fitzgeralds Casino's nearest bar. On the way to the bar I am stopped for photographs by four separate groups of people. It's good to be Santa. It's also amusing to see the confused and worried looks develop when they notice the bones.


A pause outside to watch the extraordinarily cheesy ice show taking place beside the casino - sequin-covered performers with terrifying fixed rictus grins twirling and leaping on an undersized rink - and then register that the santas have already begun to arrive.


The crowd is as friendly, welcoming and energetic as I would expect back home, and I'm soon welcomed into the bosom of Vegas santadom and join in some rousing carols.

I believe we're here shown yelling out "Frosty the Crackhead". Ah, those old holiday favourites. Of course, the bigger the crowd gets, the better the photo ops... ...and many tourists go away very happy if a little bemused. After the carolling, the ice show comes around again... ...and santas become somewhat transfixed, although not transfixed enough to fail to heckle during particularly cheesy routines. A final group shot... ...and we're moving! To the King's Bar (in the Four Queens Casino) to kick off the serious drinking. We don't pause for long however, before moving on to the Gold Digger's club at the Gold Nugget. The arrival of about thirty santas proves something of a surprise for an unwitting civilian who has just stepped into the lift. On the dance floor, santas close in on a group of local girls who develop that "deer in headlights" look... ...while others relax on the balcony outside, with its exceptional view of Fremont Street. Finally sated with dancing, santas gather outside before an abortive attempt to get into the Girls of Glitter Gulch strip joint (shamefully and in complete defiance of the season of goodwill and giving they demand $20.00 a head)... ...and instead move on to the Golden Gate for those legendary 99 cent shrimp cocktails. This would take us up to around midnight, so I'll split the night here. More in the next post...

Hi folks. Sorry for the break in reposts, I've been up to my eyebrows in paperwork and other frustrations and just not in the mood. I'm going to take another week or so off over Christmas cos right now I need a break from net-related stuff, so I'll be starting reposts again sometime around the new year. Merry Christmas!

Mark
xxxx

Nothing much happens today except more shopping, an amazing sunset (welcome to Christmas in Vegas!):


And a bloody good dinner at Archi's Thai Kitchen, now possibly my favourite restaurant of all time. We split a big dish of Pak Bung (Thai cabbage) which they don't actually list on the menu - it's a gorgeous sweet and crunchy dark green vegetable which they cook lightly with a load of garlic and chilli, fabulously flavoursome - and Pad Kea Mow, a hot dish with sheet noodles, baby corn, beautifully finished tofu (never thought I'd enjoy tofu!) and these tiny little mushrooms which explode with flavour of their own even through the heavily seasoned sauce. Bloody amazing stuff. I washed it down with a huge glass of sweet, creamy, slightly spiced Thai Tea over crushed ice. Soooo gooood.

Deidre and Mark will be heading out to Arizona again at the weekend to spend Christmas with Deidre's family. I've decided to stay in Vegas, probably check into a hostel on Sunday night as it'll be nice to have some company over the Christmas week. A bunch of folks from the Adelaide Hostel are, by weird coincidence, coming into Vegas for Christmas so I'll be spending at least a bit of time with them, which is cool. I'll be here until New Years on the current plan, and after that I'll head back to San Francisco for a while, probably stopping in Reno on the way.

After a few days of nothing in particular to report, this morning we decide to go in to Deidre's office so she can get caught up on her backlog a little. First, we stop in to Egg Works for a serious breakfast to start the day off right (and to play with my new camera).

Egg Works is one of the fair number of restaurants out here which actually specialise in breakfasts, and the menu is extensive - they have five different variations of Eggs Benedict alone, one of which has prime rib in it. I settle for a breakfast tostada, my first ever - a fried corn tortilla forming a basket for eggs, potatoes, refried beans, spicy chicken and two kinds of cheese, with sour cream, olives and chopped tomato on top. Now that's a damn breakfast. Deciding that I at least need some healthy juice to offset all the fat I have a Screwdriver to wash it down with.

By the time we're eating Deidre's already not feeling much like going in to the office. We get coffee and decide the day will be better spent finishing off Deidre's Christmas shopping anyway, so we obtain very necessary Santa hats at the 99 Cent Store and spend the day roaming the malls and strip malls in search of presents and amusement.

We break for a late lunch at the mall for my first Hot Dog on a Stick. This quirky business (founded in the forties) is fully owned by its employees, which is pretty cool in America's fairly dreadful labour climate. The staff wear uniforms with tall hats striped in primary colours (see the website, I forgot to get a photo [bangs head on table]). According to Deidre they used to wear platform shoes as well, but these have been eliminated for safety reasons.

The legendary foodstuff itself is a classic US Corn Dog, a turkey hot dog sausage on a stick covered in thick sweet corn batter (it's essentially cornbread) and then deepfried. It's actually really good, the batter's crispy and the sausage very tasty. The stands also offer a vegetarian hot dog and Cheese On a Stick (which is exactly the same thing but with the sausage replaced with melting Pepperjack cheese. Good Lord), and their own lemonade which is made fresh every day from just lemons, water and sugar.

A quick stop in to drop off mountains of shopping and we're back out to McMullins, the Irish pub we went to my first night in Vegas, to meet Deidre's friend Alison, a fellow solar power activist. It was intended to be just a quick drink but the Guinness and Newcastle Brown are good, the surroundings civilised and conversation excellent, and we end up staying till well after midnight.

Tonight is First Friday, an art-focussed event held in Las Vegas' older downtown area on the first Friday of every month. It was started by and continues to be heavily supported by the Burner community, and incorporates musical performances, art shows and other events. Deidre and I head for the Aruba Hotel, which is playing host to N.O.I.S.E (Network of Immersive Sensory Entertainment), a multimedia evening and one of First Friday's major nexi (nexuses?).

We meet Shay and Kim at the hotel itself around 10. The back room of the Aruba is already a buzz of activity when we arrive, with a stage and instruments being set up in the center, easels all round the walls and a good crowd already present. Many of the attendees are familiar, welcome neo-hippie types, with beards, dreadlocks, handweave and tie-dye being well represented. We meet several fellow burners and hear about some of the events coming up in the community, including (joy!) the Las Vegas Santa Rampage, the local Santarchy event!

The theme of the evening is the mandala, and variations on the theme are visible everywhere as artists settle in to work on paintings, drumskins and decorations, and upstairs on the balcony a walkable foam maze based on the Labyrinth of Crete has been laid out on the floor, along with other decorative maze designs exhibiting mandala principles.

The band, when they come on, are an excellent local psychedelic blues/rock outfit called Psychic Pussy, who hammer out some serious noise with virtuoso lead guitar and very catchy rhythms, and get much of the crowd moving. After their first set a drum circle of over 30 members forms by the stage and builds up a wonderful wall of percussive sound. They are joined by several talented female dancers who weave up and down within the circle, creating a beautiful visual counterpoint to the interweaving beats.

The drum circle is followed by a second half from Psychic Pussy, and a DJ picks up the slack when they finally move off. Deidre, Shay and Kim are finally exhausted and head off to catch some kip, but I'm still wide awake and in the mood for dancing, and decide to stay till the end. The event finally winds down at around 2am, but a residual drum group forms on the back porch as I drift out and I stay to watch and dance a little until it finally breaks up. I wander on round the corner to the Art Bar, to outward appearances a commonplace biker bar but with an amazing lighted star of metal rods on the roof simulating an explosion or wave transmission, inventive commissioned graffiti and art on the outer walls and more displayed inside.

Normally the bar would have live bands playing all night on First Friday, but today apparently they've all called off for various reasons and the bar's dead. I stay for one drink, get a burger from the Jack In the Box next door (they've closed the dining area, but agree to serve me at the drive-through window after I offer to hold an imaginary steering wheel and make car noises while I wait), then wander up to take a proper look at the Fremont Street Experience, the incredible covered street (the canopy is 90 feet high at its peak and covers four blocks) which incorporates many of downtown's biggest casinos.

Finally I catch the Deuce back down the Strip and a local bus which takes me close to the house, and fall into bed at around 6am, feeling I've made the most of the night.

Labels: arbuba hotel, Burning Man, first friday, las vegas, santa rampage