|
Observations of An Ex-Cop in La-La Land and, this time only, SIN CITY! |
|
|
 |
|
DON'T GO THERE!  Three former Chicago cops find something to laugh about in a LasVegas saloon. From left, "Swede"Stromberg, Gina Gallo and Andy Murcia. Gallo is actually putting handcuffs on the boys. Gina and Andy are both columnists for this website, but they didn't list 'bondage and discipline' on their job resumes. |
Why I just don't belong
in this 'Sin City' dump
By ANDY MURCIA
of TheColumnists.com
As Ann Jillian’s husband/manager I’ve been to Las Vegas numerous times when she was working there with her musical act. I was treated like a VIP back then. Everything was on the house and the casino and hotel staffs could not have been nicer. All they wanted back then was an autographed photo of Ann.
Recently I went to Las Vegas without Ann. I soon learned going there as “Andy Nobody” is not so good! After being treated like so much cattle, I for the life of me don’t know why any other “nobody” would want to go there.
The idea of subjecting yourself to being abused by stressed-out hotel employees and placing your health in jeopardy inhaling all that thick second hand smoke--then having to pay for it all, is plain insulting.
I’m sure the young people, first-timers, and inexperienced people go there to see all the lights, maybe hook up with lovers or just to say they went to "Sin City." I know many go there to get loaded and act crazy, but why would anyone of sound mind want to go there? My guess would be that they enjoy being abused and treated like so much garbage. I’m not a masochist, so count me out. I just made my last trip there!
Let me give you a few of the highlights of this recent trip to Sin City by yours truly, “Andy Nobody.” I hope it will deter you from wasting your health, time, and money.
I drove from Los Angeles
to Palm Springs and picked up my former partner from my police
days, Truman “Swede” Stromberg, at his condo. Years
ago Swede and I had worked vice as Chicago coppers before we
both retired.
We had arranged to meet another retired copper pal there in Vegas--Paul
Huble. Paul is now a private eye, turned actor. He’s also
a gun expert and was working in the Eagle Gun Grip Company’s
exhibit booth at the “Shot Show.” That's a giant gun
and hunting equipment trade show held in the Las Vegas Convention
Center, adjoining the Las Vegas Hilton Hotel.
We were also to meet up with yet another former copper-turned-writer, my fellow columnist on this website, Gina Gallo. All of us old dogs were looking forward to meeting “Gina of the Desert” since we had only emailed and phoned for the past couple of years and had not met her in person.
I had made a reservation at the Las Vegas Hilton. I figured if it was good enough for Elvis, it was good enough for me. I specifically reserved a room with two beds for Swede and me. At 77, he has a pacemaker in his chest and at 64, I had my heart attack just a year ago November. I figured if either of us took to the “big sleep” here the other would notify our next of kin and get first search for our cash.
Reservations advised me that my special “shot show" rate would be $189 plus tax for this room. Otherwise the room would be $225 and there were none available for non "shot show" guests. Later, I learned this same room rents for about $75 when there's no big trade-show in town). But $189-plus is no big deal. We could afford it and it was close to the Convention Center.
I drove into the Hilton’s massive, multi-lane driveway. I was lucky to get into the right lane by accident and soon as I stopped a doorman snatched my door open, grabbed our bags, handed Swede a ticket stub and disappeared. I had wanted to keep my bag with me for security reasons but it was too late now. We walked into the smoke-filled lobby that opens directly to their big casino. Wow! The cigar and cigarette smoke is so bad it’s like nobody there ever heard of lung cancer or emphysema, the disease that killed Johnny Carson! Everybody knows second-hand smoke kills, so what’s wrong with these people?
I looked at the first door walking in. It had a curtain on it for privacy and a sign saying something like “Invited guests or VIPs only.” Well, because I was just “Andy Nobody,” I walked past that to the hotel desk, where I stood in one of those endless ziz-zag lines. You feel like you're just another steer, waiting in line for somebody to brand you--or worse.
After about 30 minutes in the cattle line, I reached a desk clerk. It was late afternoon and I could tell she had been there all day. She had lost most of her manners and voice by the time Swede and I got to her and had turned into one cranky doll! I gave her my name and confirmation number and she gave me a room with one king bed in it.
"That's not what I reserved, Miss," I told her. "We need two beds."
Looking us over, she asked why one king bed would not work. I looked at her in shock.
"Does either of us look like Michael Jackson to you?” I said. "We’re straight, Miss. We don’t sleep with other males."
She said she would have a rollaway brought in. I said we both had bad backs, so that would not work. Granted I had just driven four hours through the desert, my butt was sore and I was not a mood to be treated poorly. I thought humor was the way to go, but she gave me a horrible look and did not find me amusing at all. She then offered us a smoking room with “two queen beds” in it. I resisted any further happy guy cracks regarding the “queen” beds, and said, “We’ll take it,” even though I'd reserved a “non-smoking room.”
I cautioned her in my best “Arnold” accent if the smoke odor was too bad in the room that “I vil be back.” She snapped back, warning me that she did not have any non-smoking rooms with two queen beds. I asked her what would I do then? She said, “try another hotel.”
I would like to tell Mr. Hilton how absolutely unwelcome I felt now–and how this gal had prepared me to get out of his hotel ASAP and never come back. I also let the “queen bed” thing pass again, even though this time she used a very affected accent and something about the emphasis she placed on the word “queen” had firmly demonstrated her contempt for us.
Then she admonished me further for not understanding her instructions as to how to get my luggage to the room and where exactly the elevators were located. Jeez, what a grouch! Little did she care after I told her I only had one ear that worked. I had also asked her if the room was near an elevator. I mean, this hotel has thousands of rooms and I could imagine walking for days before they’d find you here.
"Yeah, it’s close,” she said.
We gave the luggage stub to the bell captain’s booth and headed for the room. After two wrong elevator rides and about a quarter mile of walking, we arrived at the room. What a dump! And it reeked with smoke. We had already tipped the bellman and he was gone. So I called for the manager on duty and explained our situation. He got me another room, but I would have to come back down to the desk to get new card keys and another bellman to move our bags. Another quarter mile and another tip to a bellman and we got a decent room with two “queen” beds.
So much for easy check in! Swede had popped a nitro for his chest pains and was asking me why the desk chick thought we were homosexuals? I said because we’re happy guys and she must have associated happy with gay. Who knows?
|
inhaled too much second-hand smoke by this time. |
 |
It was early dinnertime by now and Gina and Paul called us. We all met in the lobby by the Elvis statue. This was a fun time. Gina and Paul took pictures of us all there and we were on our way. Gina had made reservations at a great restaurant-club owned by some Chicago guys. It was off the strip and had a “speak-easy” style entrance. You go in the front door and there is a vestibule and another door. You ring a bell and a guy opens a small slot and checks you out before admitting you. All in good fun. This place truly was dedicated to Al Capone and all the other Chicago hoods. It was a fun place known only to the locals and we all had a good time. Visiting friends is perhaps the ONLY reason to visit Las Vegas.
About midnight Gina drove us back to the Hilton where Swede and I headed for our room. We got more heavy-duty smoke in our lungs, not a good thing for anyone let alone two heart patients!
At the elevator two hookers
hit on us. Both needed serious dental repair work.
Seems they had bought too many tattoos when they should have
bought tooth fillings! Though they were white girls, they spoke
as if they were Afro-American chicks. They offered us “nude
wrestling for $300 each” in our room.
While prostitution is a sex act for money, it seems the pimp schooled these hookers so as not to say a specific sex act. “Wrestling” with or without clothes for money is not prostitution. Swede teased them by asking if it would be real college type wrestling or that phony stuff like on TV? He also went into his hooker-frustrating verbiage. He said if they could spell and pronounce his name backwards he would pay them the $300. His name is Truman Stromberg, which spelled backwards, is “Namurt Grebmorts.” Both hookers failed to win the money. Swede had not lost his touch since retiring from the vice squad. I asked them if they knew how to do a “full nelson”? One hooker said: “is that like head and a f---“. Our elevator arrived just in time and saved us from these two toothless “wrestlers.” Where was the hotel security force anyway?
Next day we went for breakfast in the hotel and after a 25-minute wait got to sit at the counter. It was clear that the hotel staff could not handle having a full house. When we got to the counter, we ordered fast and they brought it slow. We did get to kill the best part of a fifty-dollar bill for slightly warmed food, cold toast, and so-so coffee. I couldn’t help but remember all the great food I ate in Vegas during the “old days." Sammy, Dean and Frank would all roll over in their graves at how poorly their customers were being treated in their town now.
After the lousy breakfast, we met up with Gina and Paul, who were already at the trade show. We walked so far to get to the booth where Paul was working that Swede had to pop yet another nitro pill. I have never seen so many weapons in my life. I kept looking for “Osama,” figuring he just had to be around this ammo dump somewhere!
I had called and tried to get us all into the Barry Manilow show that was at the Hilton. No luck. I mean not even an out and out bribe could shake a booth loose for us. I recall how many times I obtained comped booths for friends of ours when Ann Jillian was appearing in a showroom. I had seen Barry’s great show numerous times at Universal and he was always very gracious to Ann and me. For a minute I forgot I was “Andy Nobody” now. It wasn't Barry’s fault. He didn’t even know I wanted to get in. I couldn’t get past the ticket window.
To the lounge we all went for a nice drink of wine and to rest our barking dogs. Gina, Swede, and I had maybe a couple of drinks each and the tab came for $64 bucks. Add a $10 tip and I got away easy for a $74 total.
Swede wanted to visit an old girlfriend who dealt poker at the Four Queens downtown. Gina offered to drive us there. Well, The Four Queens is nothing short of depressing! It’s more heavy-duty smoke and a lot of sorry looking people. I got the blues just looking at them. It looked like God's waiting room. If this is the “feel good” city, count me out!
We waited until Swede's old girlfriend got a break and they had a little visit. She was nice, and I do remember meeting her in Chicago many years ago when we were all young. She smokes, too. We made our good-bye’s and we three went to find a place for dinner. I'd had enough of the Hilton by now, so I suggested we eat at New York, New York Hotel Casino. I had always had good Italian food at the Il Forniao restaurant there. Yes, it’s a chain but it’s been consistently good.
We arrived at the restaurant and there was a long line. I went to the young lady hostess and with $20 in my hand so only she could see. I asked for a table. But she wanted to know what name my reservation was under. I said “Andy Nobody” while trying to show her the $20. Hang on to your hat folks: She actually looked for “Mr. Nobody” on her chart. I did my best to get her to look at the double saw buck to no avail. She was cute but nobody home.
Finally a hip, assistant hostess spotted the moolah and said for my party and me to stand just inside the door. In a minute she was leading us to a nice table. I curled the money into her hand and her smile said thanks. I started to think that maybe, “Andy Nobody” was making a comeback? Maybe money still talks in Vegas?
The food arrived and while it was not exactly what I had ordered, it was a good dish. We all agreed that the $48 bottle of wine was sensational! (I buy it at home for $26). After dinner we walked around this busy hotel and checked out the bars, which were loaded with young folks shaking their booty to a lot of loud noise called music.
Gina dropped Swede and I off at our hotel and we could not get to the room and sleep fast enough, We were beat from all the walking and waiting. I was looking forward to getting an early start to get the hell out of Las Vegas.
The next morning I paid the $412.00 for the one room for two nights (plus our room charges). I got a bellman and after another quarter mile walk to get out of the hotel, I got to my car. We hit the road.
My nose had cigarette smoke caked up each nostril. My lungs felt like they were cooked. My eyes were itchy, sore and burning. My pockets were filled with receipts for all this “good time” in Las Vegas. I felt really whipped and raw! I think anyone over 40 should not be allowed into Las Vegas. I know there is nothing there for me.
Here are the main reasons people go to Vegas and how they don’t apply to me:
Shows: I heard more then one lady say she came to Vegas for all the “shows.” Well, I’ve seen the best entertainers in the past. Sammy, Frank, Dean, Elvis, Rickles, etc. etc. As for today’s “shows” in Vegas, I don’t find “corporate act” guys with their names and doctored photos on taxicabs in Vegas my idea of must see “big star” entertainment. The only big star headliners here anymore are Wayne Newton and Barry Manilow. I have already seen them and I‘d much rather keep my memory of those earlier shows. As for comedy, I don’t happen to think shock comedy requires skill. Anyone can drop their shorts and get a laugh. Make me laugh like Rickles, Cobsy, Newhart and Hope, and I’ll buy a ticket. They did it with skillful timing and great material. The town is filled with a lot of “wanna-bes” but for the most part they are only copycats to the original cool cats who came before them.
Gambling: I’m also not a gambler. My wife is known to take a chance now and then, (she married me didn’t she!), but I won’t. All us “nobodys” know well by now that Vegas could not pay its electric bill if it were possible for us to be big winners here. We “nobodys” work too hard for our money, so my advice is to just keep it in your pocket.
Hookers: Many go to Vegas for the “hookers.” I’m married--but even if I weren’t--I don’t equate love-making with financial transactions. I guess I formed this opinion after working all those years in the prostitution unit of the Chicago Police Department. I just don’t know how “johns” can use their money to feather a bed for a lazy, pimp bastard. Here’s a bum making money off someone’s daughter. I say every pimp should have a job. If we stop patronizing prostitutes, we'll force the pimp to make his living off his own ass.
Food: The only thing here then is perhaps good food. But
unless you come from the sticks, I’m betting there is good
food located right near your home. Why pay the travel expense?
Why go to Vegas just to eat? I can get not only better food in
Los Angeles, but at a better price, too. Most important to me
though is when I go to a restaurant near my home that I get a
good table there, and I can. Even though my name is still “Andy
Nobody.”
©2005 by Andy Murcia. The caricature of Andy Murcia is ©2003
by Jim Hummel. The photos are the property of law enforcement
officers who had these people under surveillance. This column
first posted Feb. 14, 2005.
You
can comment on this column online. Please address your message
to either "The Editors" or Andy Murcia. To send an
email, click here: talkback@thecolumnists.com
|
|
|
Archives |
|
|