LAS VEGAS, NEVADA: Where Fantasy Obliterates Reality

February 27, 2018

Dear Las Vegas,
What's up with the 50-degree (F) temperature? I gave you plenty of notice that I was coming, so I would have thought you'd provide a little better treatment than this. When I'M expecting a guest I roll out the red carpet and try to be the best host I can possibly be. I guess that's not how YOU roll, eh, Las Vegas? I mean, it's 42-degrees back in Minnesota today. You knew I wasn't planning to come all the way down here for a measly 8-degrees of extra warmth.

And rain? Seriously, Las Vegas, rain? May I remind you that this is the DESERT? I probably should be grateful that at least you didn't greet me with snow . . . but I'm not.

Sincerely, Greg

I hope I wasn't too hard on Las Vegas in my letter because once I got out into the city, I truly enjoyed myself. I was already starting to like Las Vegas even before I started riding my bike. I was pleased as punch that my bike arrived undamaged and that I was able to find a quiet corner in the baggage claim area in which to reassemble it. Nobody asked any questions. Nobody was looking over my shoulder. Nobody told me to move. Nobody bothered me at all.

And, as usual, the TSA made sure my bike was safe by ripping open the box, inspecting it, and putting it back together with total disregard for my careful packaging.

Ah yes, the TSA took good care of my other bag too.

Hello, One Armed Bandits. You're not going to tempt ME with your hollow promises of huge jackpots.

Riding a bike out of the Las Vegas airport isn't an easy task, but I managed to find a way out and I was very proud of myself. I easily found a WalMart for some supplies (mainly iso-butane fuel for my stove) and got yelled at by the greeter for trying to wheel my bike inside.

"You can't bring that in here, sir!" he yelled. Judging by his badge, he might have been a security guy, not a greeter.

I got in three words of argument. "Can I just . . ."

"NO! It has to go back outside!"

"OK, thanks," I replied sarcastically.

Once that task was completed, I set out into the misty rain to see the REAL Las Vegas--the backstreets--the parts that don't include glitzy hotels and casinos and tourist attractions. Heading northward, I took Eastern Avenue (which was definitely not bike friendly) and then a few side streets to the west. The rain prevented me from taking very many pictures, but what I saw were a lot of homeless people, debris on the streets, run-down homes, abandoned shopping carts piled high with possessions belonging to who knows who, and properties that looked like this:

I worked my way north to the downtown area and historic Fremont Street. Let me tell ya, I saw plenty of interesting things there too. Check it out.

Among a long stretch of wedding chapels, this one caught my attention. I assume it specializes in weddings for Elvis fans. I also assume Las Vegas gets an abundance of Elvis fans.

Historic Fremont Street with its historic arched roof, historic food trucks, historic ziplines, historic rock and roll stages, historic wine bars, and historic beggars and buskers.

Clint Eastwood escaped from "High Plains Drifter" and is trying to blend in on historic Fremont Street.

Historic Fremont Street: Where pigeons run free.

I noticed this museum a block away from Fremont Street. Las Vegas has a well-known mob connection so I thought it might have been an interesting place to visit. I changed my mind when I saw the $26 admission fee. Hey, I'm on a budget.

The rain had stopped and it was time to move on to Las Vegas Boulevard--the Las Vegas Strip. The Strip is what really brings all those millions of tourists to Vegas and, yeah, this bike tourist was equally mesmerized. It was some pretty scary biking because I knew that if I was staring at all the crazy sights, so too were the automobile drivers. However, I took comfort in the idea that IF I survived The Strip, the most treacherous riding of my entire tour would be behind me.

Some of the finest fake waterfalls in town.

The Bellagio's water fountain show was underway. The water shooting up into the sky was pretty cool, but couldn't they have synchronized the show to something better than a godawful Cher song? I had to put my index fingers into my ears.

Say what you will about Las Vegas, but where else can you find two of the world's greatest cities situated within a couple blocks of each other? It's amazing.

Look at ME--the only bicycle rider on the Las Vegas Strip today.

On a more serious note, the next picture is the view from my budget-minded motel. I have been to the spot where President Kennedy was shot in Dallas and I have ridden my bike past the spot where the bombs went off at the Boston Marathon. Perhaps it's because the Las Vegas massacre happened more recently, but this is definitely eerier.

Later in the evening, I went for a walk in order to see a little bit of that famous Las Vegas nightlife. I passed up all of the hotspots and ate at a little taco joint.

Sometimes you get to witness some middle-of-the-night law enforcement action when you stay in a budget-minded motel in the middle of a large city.

Today's ride: 21 miles (34 km)
Total: 21 miles (34 km)

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