As a Las Vegas virgin, I was enthralled to visit there last week (02.09.01). I arrived in the early afternoon, fully expecting a weekend of gambling, drinking, and of course, shameless elvis worship.
I was shocked! Not an Elvis in sight! I had been on the ground for an entire 15 minutes, and I had yet to even see someone with a rhinestone cape! Sure, there were enough slot machines to fill a sizable chunk of the Grand Canyon, but no Elvii!
This simply would not do.
After waiting for my friends to get their bags from the merry-go-round of doom (always, always carry-on!), we went to go hail a cab. I thought it would be a certain thing to at least find an Elvis cab driver. Instead we had some sort of cowboy / deranged lunatic / rainman figure who mumbled all the way to our hotel.
This was beginning to get grim, friends.
Upon our arrival to the hotel, I found a little solace... Elvis slot machines! Surely I would find the King here!
Alas, there were none. However, I did happen to meet a pig farmer named Wayne from Wyoming who was, oddly enough, peach scented.
But I digress... It had been a full six hours now, and there were no sexy elvii, cloned elvii, no Flying Elvii, nothing.
However, in some deli below the Tropicana hotel, I was able to drown myself in an Elvis sandwich; peanut butter, bananas, and all.
I feel so let down, even a little silly, because I just went to Vegas to have Elvises lovechild.
In the end, after 72 hours of drinking and gambling, I finally saw an Elvis. Not a bad one either. The problem was that he was surrounded by a throng of tourists, who all had evidently come for the king. I couldn't get within 2 yards of him.