24th of November 2007: Leaving Arizona / Crazy Vegas Nights
Everyone's up latish and a bit muzzy from the night's excesses, but a huge fried breakfast (eaten at around lunchtime) gets us back on track nicely. Once we can move again, Robin takes us out to the paddock at the side of the house, where her two horses are standing side by side and munching companionably. We met these two old boys previously on Thanksgiving itself; Quick is a former racehorse who still has a good turn of speed (and some jumpy energy), and Caesar was formerly a participant in Barrel Riding (for a brief explanation of which see "Rodeo and Other Matters") but is now getting pretty chubby - in fact he's beginning to resemble a barrel himself.
Caesar is the better-tempered animal so Robin leads him out and we feed him carrots while she puts on his blanket and saddle. The two horses are inseperable, and Quick follows nervously along on the other side of the fence as we walk him up the side of the paddock. Deidre, an avid rider in the past but having been away from horses for some time, mounts up first, and Robin leads Caesar in a couple of laps round the barn, since she's not sure how he'll behave with an unfamiliar rider.
I'm up next, and with my right foot in the stirrup manage to haul myself up into the saddle with relative ease. I haven't been on a horse since a couple of pony rides when I was a kid on farm visits. It's an amazing feeling, sensing the power of those huge muscles moving under you - I can see how people become addicted to horse-riding, and they're such beautiful and fascinating animals, so much strength and speed packed into lean (well, relatively in Caesar's case) and efficient form. We take a couple of laps of the barn and I slide back down on quite a buzz.
The ride back, in daylight this time, is spectacular. We roll across miles of red earth and yellow scrubland, the horizon always walled with mountains crinkled and creased like rhinoceros hide, catching the light of the descending sun on their slab faces and peaks. On a few of the higher points snow has settled. The last of the light casts a long bright streak across the tops of the mountains behind us as the sun dips over the horizon, and we come down on Vegas in darkness, once again lit up like an enormous carnival ride.
Deidre and I are tired of travelling but buzzing with the need to do something, and we only stop in long enough to unwind, shower and change before heading out again. We meet Deidre's boss, Chris, and two of his friends, Ingrid and Jordan(a Burner couple, in another of those odd synchronicities), at a bar on Fremont Street. It's a vast, partially-covered plaza in the older region of downtown Vegas, lined with bars and clubs, where the neon signs of defunct casinos are brought and placed on display for the ages. Group gathered we immediately depart for the destination of the evening - Dino's, near the top of the Strip.
Dino's advertises itself as "The last neighbourhood bar in Las Vegas", and inside it's authentically rough-and-ready with a bare concrete floor, strip-lighting and battered tables. The pool tables are occupied by what I'm almost certain is a Hispanic biker gang. At the front of the bar, by the door, is the bar's main claim to fame and the purpose of our visit - the low stage and technical gear necessary for Dino's legendary three-nights-a-week karaoke jam, hosted by Danny G.
Danny G arrives shortly after we do and begins to set up his kit and set out boxes piled with song folders. He's a chunky middle-aged guy with glasses and greying wings of hair, but his voice and manner are pure showbiz and he bounces about the small stage with charisma and passion. Shortly the experienced karaokers all have their noses in the song lists, and nervously I do the same. I pick a lowkey start - Peggy Lee's "Fever", followed by the Hammer Song and Bob Seger's "Old Time Rock 'n Roll".
There's a pretty good crowd in, with a big group taking up two tables in front of us containing several serious karaoke fanatics, and couples and small groups dotted around the tables and the bar. The song slips begin to pile up next to Danny G as the performers come and go. When I'm called up I walk to the stage on wobbly legs through a haze of stagefright, but the cheers and whoops of my own group and those at the adjacent tables are heartfelt and encouraging, and I get through the song with confidence but no flare. I walk off in a glow of relief and genuine enjoyment, and I return to a round of high-fives from the group.
The evening continues and my spirits rise higher as I soak up the joy of the event. Talent is very mixed but if anything those who can't carry a tune sing with the most passion (and volume) and applause is universal and free from judgement. If anything it feels like a Burner event, with everyone just focussed on expressing themselves and having (and sharing) the best time, no judgements, no derision, just love and support.
When I get up again there's no fear, and once I'm into the swing of the Hammer Song I make a real performance of it, moving around the stage and putting some passion on the high notes. It's fun, energising and the crowd love it. I come off the stage on a total high.
The rest of our group have a great night too. Deidre is the total performer, a demonic force onstage in black and red punk grrl gear, howling out rock greats and swinging country classics. Ingrid delivers a couple of sultry songs, while Jordan leaps around the stage with wild arm gestures, drops on one knee and roars out his selections. Chris is, according to all the evidence, completely tone-deaf, but he knowns no fear or self-consciousness at the mike and delivers with volume and energy to a wildly appreciative crowd.
I find "Old Time Rock 'n Roll" too high for my range and have to rumble it out an octave down, but put in a second song slip and make the very most of Peter Gabriel's "Solsbury Hill". Finally, with most of our group dispersed, Deidre and I finish up, she with Heart's "Magic Man" (perfectly suited to her rich throaty lows and crystal-clear high tones) and I, to my own considerable surprise, channel some of Tim Curry's dark sexuality into a rendition of "Sweet Transvestite".
We stagger out into the cool Vegas night a little after 2am...to be continued...
Caesar is the better-tempered animal so Robin leads him out and we feed him carrots while she puts on his blanket and saddle. The two horses are inseperable, and Quick follows nervously along on the other side of the fence as we walk him up the side of the paddock. Deidre, an avid rider in the past but having been away from horses for some time, mounts up first, and Robin leads Caesar in a couple of laps round the barn, since she's not sure how he'll behave with an unfamiliar rider.
I'm up next, and with my right foot in the stirrup manage to haul myself up into the saddle with relative ease. I haven't been on a horse since a couple of pony rides when I was a kid on farm visits. It's an amazing feeling, sensing the power of those huge muscles moving under you - I can see how people become addicted to horse-riding, and they're such beautiful and fascinating animals, so much strength and speed packed into lean (well, relatively in Caesar's case) and efficient form. We take a couple of laps of the barn and I slide back down on quite a buzz.
The ride back, in daylight this time, is spectacular. We roll across miles of red earth and yellow scrubland, the horizon always walled with mountains crinkled and creased like rhinoceros hide, catching the light of the descending sun on their slab faces and peaks. On a few of the higher points snow has settled. The last of the light casts a long bright streak across the tops of the mountains behind us as the sun dips over the horizon, and we come down on Vegas in darkness, once again lit up like an enormous carnival ride.
Deidre and I are tired of travelling but buzzing with the need to do something, and we only stop in long enough to unwind, shower and change before heading out again. We meet Deidre's boss, Chris, and two of his friends, Ingrid and Jordan(a Burner couple, in another of those odd synchronicities), at a bar on Fremont Street. It's a vast, partially-covered plaza in the older region of downtown Vegas, lined with bars and clubs, where the neon signs of defunct casinos are brought and placed on display for the ages. Group gathered we immediately depart for the destination of the evening - Dino's, near the top of the Strip.
Dino's advertises itself as "The last neighbourhood bar in Las Vegas", and inside it's authentically rough-and-ready with a bare concrete floor, strip-lighting and battered tables. The pool tables are occupied by what I'm almost certain is a Hispanic biker gang. At the front of the bar, by the door, is the bar's main claim to fame and the purpose of our visit - the low stage and technical gear necessary for Dino's legendary three-nights-a-week karaoke jam, hosted by Danny G.
Danny G arrives shortly after we do and begins to set up his kit and set out boxes piled with song folders. He's a chunky middle-aged guy with glasses and greying wings of hair, but his voice and manner are pure showbiz and he bounces about the small stage with charisma and passion. Shortly the experienced karaokers all have their noses in the song lists, and nervously I do the same. I pick a lowkey start - Peggy Lee's "Fever", followed by the Hammer Song and Bob Seger's "Old Time Rock 'n Roll".
There's a pretty good crowd in, with a big group taking up two tables in front of us containing several serious karaoke fanatics, and couples and small groups dotted around the tables and the bar. The song slips begin to pile up next to Danny G as the performers come and go. When I'm called up I walk to the stage on wobbly legs through a haze of stagefright, but the cheers and whoops of my own group and those at the adjacent tables are heartfelt and encouraging, and I get through the song with confidence but no flare. I walk off in a glow of relief and genuine enjoyment, and I return to a round of high-fives from the group.
The evening continues and my spirits rise higher as I soak up the joy of the event. Talent is very mixed but if anything those who can't carry a tune sing with the most passion (and volume) and applause is universal and free from judgement. If anything it feels like a Burner event, with everyone just focussed on expressing themselves and having (and sharing) the best time, no judgements, no derision, just love and support.
When I get up again there's no fear, and once I'm into the swing of the Hammer Song I make a real performance of it, moving around the stage and putting some passion on the high notes. It's fun, energising and the crowd love it. I come off the stage on a total high.
The rest of our group have a great night too. Deidre is the total performer, a demonic force onstage in black and red punk grrl gear, howling out rock greats and swinging country classics. Ingrid delivers a couple of sultry songs, while Jordan leaps around the stage with wild arm gestures, drops on one knee and roars out his selections. Chris is, according to all the evidence, completely tone-deaf, but he knowns no fear or self-consciousness at the mike and delivers with volume and energy to a wildly appreciative crowd.
I find "Old Time Rock 'n Roll" too high for my range and have to rumble it out an octave down, but put in a second song slip and make the very most of Peter Gabriel's "Solsbury Hill". Finally, with most of our group dispersed, Deidre and I finish up, she with Heart's "Magic Man" (perfectly suited to her rich throaty lows and crystal-clear high tones) and I, to my own considerable surprise, channel some of Tim Curry's dark sexuality into a rendition of "Sweet Transvestite".
We stagger out into the cool Vegas night a little after 2am...to be continued...
Labels: arizona, dinos, Farm and Ranch Equipment, horses, karaoke, las vegas, Nevada, thanksgiving, the strip
posted by Mark at
20:00
|
0 Comments
