Queen Mediocretia of Suburbia

Vacation vs Vacation: Summary Edition

Competition: Grand Canyon vs Las Vegas 

You know the big difference between the Grand Canyon and Vegas (besides real vs fake, deep vs tall)? Free vs FREAKING EXPENSIVE. That's the difference.

Grand Canyon

The economizing began as we descended into the Flagstaff airport. It was a gusty day and a small plane. I usually like turbulence (bouncy!), but not this time. I moved the barf bag to the front of the seat pocket.

When we landed I pried my hand off my mouth and said, "Well, we just saved five hundred bucks. I'm not getting in any helicopters over the Grand Canyon after that."

I'll admit, most things were thirty percent more expensive than you'd find in the suburbs, but that was countered by all the free stuff you got after you paid the $25 entrance fee. Free transportation on the shuttles, free geology museum, free visitor's center, free ranger talks.

Why free? I suppose previous generations built all the walls and paths and bathrooms with their tax dollars? Thank you, previous generations. It's a place to be proud of.

Las Vegas

While the Grand Canyon is all about getting value for your pre-paid tax dollars, Las Vegas is all about extracting all the rest of your money and giving as little as possible in return. As always, I'm okay spending money for good seats and good food, but I'm not okay spending twenty dollars for a taxi ride down the Strip that crossed the Strip four times. They made the switchbacks at the Grand Canyon look like a straight line.

Gary pointed out the roundabout route taxis charged only two dollars more than the drivers who turned left on to the Strip, drove, then let us out. Grr. Still. Then again, some busker conned me into giving him ten dollars for his book of "poetry," so I can't talk.

We took taxis this time because they've changed the Strip radically since the last time we were here. Now you can't just walk directly down the road. They've built all these pedestrian bridges and free trams that funnel you through every casino, shop, and money trap.

Winner: Grand Canyon.

In fact, forget museums and concerts, we're all about the National Parks now. Oh, well after the Rock Boat next winter, when BNL will be sailing the seas again, which is the best vacation ever.

Vacation vs Vacation: Museum Edition

Competition: Titanic: The Artifact Museum vs Madame Tussaud's Wax Museum vs the Auto Museum

You wouldn't expect Las Vegas to have many museums, but I suppose they need to cater to those of us who don't lay out by the pool.

Titanic: The Artifact Museum 

Grave robbery, is that what you said? Well, yes, and I was expecting more discomfort about that, but there were very few personal items displayed. Almost everything had been owned by the White Star Line, and they ran into the iceberg, so screw them. There were a number of items that belonged to the passengers, but they were primarily mass-produced things. No jewelry was there, except for a man's gold pocket-watch.  I think they picked out three individuals, one from each class, and showed one or two items they owned. I remember a teacup for first class, perhaps toothpaste for third class.

Replicas: They had a replica of a third-class cabin, and a sobering surprise when you burst through a door out to the chilly, starry promenade deck. The Grand Staircase was disappointingly low-ceilinged and drab.

Interactivity: You could touch a replica iceberg, and laugh if you will, but it was surprisingly cold and slippery. They gave out passenger cards to the visitors, We checked: my second-class lady lived, Gary's third-class man died.

They displayed the only piece to be raised: the Big Piece, which some people have said is distasteful.

It all made me wonder, how many centuries pass before graves can turn into museums? How old are the pyramids and Westminster Abbey? Is one century enough? Perhaps the issue is the proximity of the bodies to the gift shop, as with the 9/11 museum in New York. (I do kind of feel that if you're going to move the remains there, that rules out the gift shop.)  

Madame Tussaud's Wax Museum

A friend who moved to California just introduced me to the term “Midwest skinny. Damn, maybe I'm looking with Midwest eyes, but celebrities are tiny, tiny people.

As with the Madame Tussaud's in London, there is still a remarkable lack of quality control with waxworks. One will look dead-on, while the one right next to it looks nothing like.

You'd think there'd be no touching, but instead they encourage you to pose with props and the waxworks. Here's Hef and a bunny.

The Auto Collections

On one end of the spectrum is the Titanic Exhibit, full of chilly icebergs and passenger adoptees, and then on the other end you have the Auto Collection.

Here's the layout: car car car car Elvis car car car Fortune Telling machine car car car car Fortune Telling machine car Elvis.

I have NO idea what the random fortune-telling machines are even doing there. A fair number of the cars are owned by one gentleman, I suppose he also collected fortune telling automatons?

Oh wait.

AUTOmatons. The AUTO Collection.

Seriously, it's been weeks and I just got that connection. But then, why the Elvis statues? They weren't automated.

Verdict: Don't get all that cheese so close to the priceless cars.

Winner: Titanic. Of course. So nicely done. Points for interactivity, and none of the cheese.

 

Vacation vs Vacation: Show Edition

Competition: Michael Jackson: One vs Love

We saw three shows in Vegas. Two Cirque du Soleil shows: One (Michael Jackson) and LOVE (Beatles), plus an Ingrid Michaelson show. (You just can't compare Ingrid to Cirque, since she doesn't bounce off of trampolines, so I'll leave her out of the competition.)

My decision to hate all Cirque shows was mainly based on a documentary I saw and the O show we saw last time we were in Las Vegas. If Cirque presented itself as an artistic gymnastics spectacle, I'd be fine, but instead they suggest their shows have "characters," and thus I assume there is also a plot, and I am subsequently confused and disappointed.

Michael Jackson: One

(All the photos from the Cirque shows were taken outside the theater. If you pull out your camera, even before the show, they are on you.)

I had concerns before I even sat down at the show. We brought a supply of cough drops, pre-unwrapped because we didn't want to disturb anyone with even the wrapper noise, much less the deafening cough. Of course, this was ridiculous because the show was more deafening: we couldn't even hear ourselves cough. More distracting: I ate something before the show. It became obvious mid-way in that I would need to leave my seat.

I stepped into the lobby. An usher said, "Restroom?"

I answered, "Why yes. I suppose that's the only reason anyone would leave."

He said, "Usually they're running," which was nice, because it made me feel a little bit proud. Also, two other people visited the bathroom while I was there, and like me, they had to. I wonder if, like me, they calculated the amount of ticket price they were wasting during the visit to the bathroom (thirty one dollars and fifty cents).

I came back and Gary said I hadn't missed anything good, just stripper poles and juggling, whatever that has to do with Michael Jackson. (I had to read the Wikipedia page later to find out.)

I came back in time for Thriller, and more important, Man in the Mirror, which had an effect that literally made me say "Wow." It was, of course, the hologram.

Everyone was talking last weekend about the MJ hologram at the Billboard Music awards. That was accomplished by projecting MJ images on to an actual dancer. I think they did the Vegas effect by projecting an image of MJ onto a thin see-through screen, then having all the live dancers dance behind the screen as well. At first I thought "Wow, that dancer in the middle looks and dances just like Michael Jackson," and I was still admiring him when he dissolved into gold pixie dust. It was impressive. Then he reappeared, danced some more, and this time the other dancers distracted me enough so I was again caught off guard when the fake one dissolved into pixie dust.

However, one effect does not a good show make.

LOVE

Let me tell you what makes a good show: a cast of characters everyone recognizes without Wikipedia: Eleanor Rigby, Mr Kite, etc.

The LOVE show is presented in a custom-built theater which is essentially a giant mechanized ball. You sit in the core of this ball that is honeycombed with ports for lighting, trapezes, wires, and vortexes for gymnasts to plummet from, and so on. Toward the end I noticed there was a gymnast who was stuck in her portal and someone had to come rescue her.

The characters are all recognizable (except for The Walrus, I did have to turn to Wikipedia for him), so the part of my brain that asks, "Who is this guy? What's his motivation?" just turned right off and I could enjoy the show as a live-action version of an animated psychedelic Beatles video.

It was all remarkable (no holograms, though). At one point they covered the entire audience with a giant yellow parachute, and that was a better nod to audience unity than the "We Are One" ending to Michael Jackson: One. 

Winner: LOVE

I know. I'm amazed too! I actually liked a Cirque show!

Vacation vs Vacation: Hotel Edition

Competition: Tovar vs Maswik vs Mandalay - Hotel Throwdown

We stayed at three hotels during this vacation. One night at the home of the buffalo above: El Tovar (on the rim of the Grand Canyon), five nights at the Maswik Lodge (a very short walk from the Grand Canyon), and six nights at Mandalay Bay, at the South end of the Las Vegas Strip.

I can tell you the loser right now: El Tovar. Gary couldn't sleep on the bed. He claims it was a particular type of Serta mattress that has no springs. Instead, he slept on the floor. Here, the evil bed:

One night later we moved to the more economical Maswik Lodge. I got a good vibe the minute I opened the door.  I don't have any photos of the room but I do have an image I found online of a similar room:

It took a few hours, but I realized why I liked the room so much: it felt like home. See the fan and the popcorn ceiling? This is my house:

So it looked like home, that's where the vibe came from. Plus, it had a balcony, and we ate at the cafeteria for a mere $30 a day: the cheapest food of the trip.

On the last leg, we stayed at Mandalay Bay.

The room was both the most sumptuous and least expensive. On the down side, there was a terrifying toilet. You would gently touch the handle on the commode and it roared like an airplane while Woosh! Everything was violently sucked down ... and then reappeared a minute later, after you had exited the bathroom. There was one day they shut the water off entirely. The plumbing problems soured me on the room.

Winner: Maswik Lodge

I know. I didn't expect it, but reasonable, convenient food and a popcorn ceiling goes a long way for me. Who would hve guessed?

Animals Of the Vacation

We saw many animals on vacation, some wild and some caged. This post will begin with the Best Animal of the Grand Canyon, and end with the Best Animal of Vegas.

Grand Canyon

The Best

While at Mather Point (aka Point of Death) on the last day, I noticed a group of people in a circle taking photos of a squirrel. Now, I know there are entire nations to whom a squirrel isn't a tree rat. But what was exceptional about this guy was a) the crowd was mere inches from him and b) he appeared to be begging like a dog. Or like a busker.

We all applauded as Busker the Squirrel dragged a green apple the size of his torso into a crevice under some steps.

About ten minutes later Gary and I sat down on a rock by those steps, and Busker popped out.

Busker sized up the pair of us and decided Gary was the soft touch. Gary took this photo before Busker started playing him.

During his first sortie, Busker hopped right up to Gary's thigh, then cut around behind him. I was sitting on Gary's right, so now Busker was at my side. He came up and put his little clawed paw on my thigh.

I did not make eye contact. "Oh I don't think so," I said. I knew we were being watched by the crowd, so I played it cool.

Busker circled back to Gary, and leapt on to his thigh, jumped off, then peered at Gary.

"Sorry, dude," Gary said. "I have no food."

Busker ran off in front of us, then amazed the crowd by running back to Gary and climbing all the way up INTO HIS LAP. He flicked his tail in the air and walked daintly across Gary.

"Did you see that!" I heard someone in the crowd say. "That squirrel just walked right over that guy."

Yeah. That's an attention whore squirrel right there.

The Others

Elk greeted us at the Grand Canyon. They lose their horns in the spring, so they were only distinguishable from deer by their shaggy necks.

The elk and deer swarmed the Mather campground. These deer refused to let any humans use their Drinking Water. They got affronted if anyone in an RV tried to get some.

 

And of course there were the mules of the Bright Angel trail.

Ravens are bastards. This guy was having a feast in the trash bin.

There were even more animals an hour outside the Grand Canyon at the marvelously named Bearizona.

There were of course bears.

There were wolves who acted like puppies and chased our car.

There were goats who knew what we were up to.

I had a moment when this animal approached our car.

 

Those were the animals of the Grand Canyon. Las Vegas had far fewer animals.

Las Vegas

The Others

Our hotel was Mandelay Bay, and in harmony with the bay theme they have a shark exhibit.

Gary saw this on the floor of our room and at first thought it was an animal:

And naturally, we had to see the white tigers at Siegfried and Roy's Secret Garden.

That's not the late Montecore, the one who either a) mauled Roy or b) did Roy a favor by dragging him offstage after he collapsed. Montecore met his maker in March. Roy (Montecore apologist) is too disabled now to do anything more than charity appearances.

However ...

The Best

We got to see a Siegfried in the wild!

He was out and about, pulling quarters out of kids forearms, as you do. I couldn't say what I wanted to him ("TELL ME ALL YOUR SECRETS"), so I instead pretended he was my host and murmured, "This is lovely. Thank you." I got a polite nod. He did not crawl into my lap and beg for food but it was still pretty amazing.

The First Thing That Happened at the Grand Canyon

You'd think that after driving over a hundred miles just to get to the entrance for the Grand Canyon, we'd stop at the first viewpoint we saw: Mather Point. But strangely, we didn't.

When we got close to Mather Point, we were distracted by what was going on out the window. Just when we should have turned, Gary said, "Look at the helicopters!"

There were two red helicopters flying right over the road. Wow, I thought, you'd think aircraft wouldn't be allowed to get that close.

Instead, we made our first stop at the far more accessible Yavapai Observation Station. We were commenting on how amazing it was, when a random man turned to us and said, "You know someone just died."

Just. Died. When we were driving in. Hence, the helicopters retrieving her body. Hence, Mather Point being closed. A 47 year old woman.

Our new friend sounded like he'd seen it. According to him, she disobeyed the stated rules by going on the other side of the protective fence, stepped close to the edge of some rocks, focused her camera down and took some photos, looked back up, lost her equilibrium, and fell.

We went to Mather Point on the last day, and it seems obvious which rocks she climbed on.

Of course, this tragedy and other warning signs ...

... had no effect on certain foolish people.

When Gary pulled this stunt the first time, I stomped off and subsequently lost him for half an hour. After that, I took the tactic of joining him on the precipice and hissing "are you happy? Now I can die with you." That freaked him out enough that he only really scared me half a dozen more times.

Here are more idiots:

 

and this moron who fell while on the mule-wide Bright Angel trail:

Oh wait, that's me. Luckily, I fell when I wasn't by the edge.
 

A Photo-Free Vacation Post

So, we are not allergic to the American Southwest. We both really enjoyed the first few breaths of damp Saint Louis night air when we got in. Then we coughed. Gary coughed in the car and then choked out "Urg! Ack! I coughed up something in my mouth that's like an EAR." Still, since then our coughs have become progressively more fluid, and now that I've been in bed for a week I think I'm on the upswing.

Gary's a little better off than I am, yet still not well enough to upload photos, which means my first vacation post will need to be photo-free, and only one event happened that was not photographed.

That would be the Marvel Super Heroes 4D Experience at Madame Tussauds Las Vegas.

You can read a description here, but let's just say that on the way out of Madame Tussaud's, you pass through a room into which they have dumped the four Marvel Comics related dummies, and then you go in to a 3-D theater that is equipped with special seats that (in time with actions on-screen) squirt a mist of water at your face, blow a puff of air at your ear, and lightly whip plastic string at your legs. Cheesy, but effective when timed with the action sequences on screen.

We didn't know any of this when we sat down and put on our 3D glasses. A group of boisterous ladies took the row of seats behind us. The ten minute movie started.

The ladies behind us continued talking. They believed in the time honored tradition of talking back, or interacting with the movie on screen. I've been in one movie house where this happened, and I wasn't expecting it, and at the time my reaction was, "Is this a dollar-cinema thing?" because I hadn't been to the dollar cinema in a while. However, these ladies interacting with the movie took it form a cheesy "4D interactive experience" to a marvelous 5D interactive experience.

"Who's that?"
"That's Tony Stark. I love him. I LOVE YOU TONY!"
"Is that Doctor Doom? TONY YOU BETTER LOOK OUT! LOOK OUT TONY!"

(Tony Stark swings some sort of weapon at Dr. Doom: whoosh. We all feel a puff of air.)

"WHAT WAS THAT! I FELT IT! DAMN!"

(Someone is tossed into the ocean: spritz. A fine mist of water touches our faces.)

"DAMN! MY WEEEAVVVVE! YOU JUST GOT MY WEAVE WET DR. DOOM!"

I tell you; it was the first time I have ever enjoyed an action sequence. I want these women to come home with me and narrate every stupid action movie Gary makes me watch. In fact, that night we rented the latest Jack Ryan movie, and when the first interminable car chase started, I tried a feeble little "Wooo! Jack, you'd better run!" but Gary shut me down.

 

Lies Airlines Tell

Let us say you are on a plane that has been delayed a hour. Let's say the delayed plane lands in Phoenix at 12;10, which happens to be the same time your connecting flight to Saint Louis takes off.

There is hope: another St Louisian talked to the gate agent earlier, and, since there are sixteen people bound for St Louis they might delay the Saint Louis connecting flight.

You believe this might be true, because you have lived a charmed life and never missed a connecting flight.

Also, it is early in the day and you have not yet experienced the Big Connecting Flight Lie.

First, you will notice that as you descend, instead of telling you the connecting gate information, they say "check online or ask the gate agent at the end of the jet way."

People evidently grumble, because the Lie of Omission becomes a Lie of Commission. Suddenly there will be electric trams waiting for you when you deplane! Trams to whisk you to your gate because they care.

You deplane! There are no trams. You ask the gate agent and she recommends you run: your connecting flight is boarding at B6 around the corner.

I'll spoil this one for you: the plane actually left ten minutes earlier, even before it was scheduled to leave, and "run and you might make it" means "run so you are far away from me when you round the corner and see out the terminal window that there is no plane waiting on the Tarmac at that gate."

Fellow St Louisans meet you at the gate and say they checked online, the flight was gone early, and US Airways is full of lying liars who fear confrontation. The helpful US Airways employees who reschedule your flight for six hours later blame the lies on the evil Vegas flight staff: they are the lying liars. Phoenix staff would never lie like that.

Hours later, after you've spent four hours and fifty dollars around the Phoenix airport, you are going through TSA again and the sweet 76 year old lady in front of you asks the agent, "Our flight departs in twenty minutes. Do you think we can make it?"

He answers, "Maybe. If you run."

Say no to cronuts

You know, cronuts sounded great. Donuts: good, croissants: good.

In actuality, a cronut is a croissant which has been left in the deep fryer, absorbed all the oil, then iced.

I couldn't eat more than a bite. I'm ashamed of myself.

So so sick

Did I say I was sick of rocks? I take that back. I'm sick of coughing. We picked up a cold ( Gary blames the AC at the El Tovar) and it peaked last night. Luckily we had stockpiled some food In the fridge and we're sleeping hard. Today's going to be spent indoors. I can't decide if it's worse than being sick on vacation or at home. Either way, we're kicking this cold to the curb today. We only have half a day left tomorrow before we travel to vegas. We have three more view points and vistas and we'll have seen them all. For those who wonder, Gary's pack has not left the hotel room.

I told Gary they said I couldn't use crampons till two weeks after my D and C

Rocks rocks rocks

Sooooo sick of rocks. I'd estimate Gary's taken fifteen hundred photos of rocks. Today, instead, we're scheduled to visit Bearizona. The elk thinned out after day one, but there are elk,deer, and of course bears there. We heard a coyote outside our room this morning.

Spicy!