Pinky Spud and the Unwitting Felons on Holiday: Vegas, Baby!

Day 4: When it Rains, it Pours

Broken photos. Get used to it for a while. Sorry there's only one for this entry.

…as we say in Bree! [/LotR].

And oh it did. Literally, by the end of the night.

The day opened much as it did yesterday. I woke up at 5:00 AM again, saw a much less spectacular sky, and again I rolled over and went back to bed. Over Starbucks and Mad Zeppelin! We discussed the dastardly and treacherous deeds for the day, and while my traitors took the spoils, we decided to finish up our morning caffeine fix and head to the far-flung end of the strip to the Stratosphere hotel and tower. Vaguely reminiscent of the Seattle Space Needle, the Stratosphere is cited as the tallest free-standing observation tower in the United States, clocking in at a whopping 1,149 ft. But more important is the Stratosphere SkyJump, a not-quite free fall of 855 feet. (Which translates to the following: I was traveling at 42 mph vertically and downward for 835 feet: that last 20 the machine slowed me down for controlled impact.) It was, in a word, epic. [video, if I can get the link to work] (Note the attempted graceful descent and then the fail-landing. My knees gave out; they were shaking from all the hardcore that had just gone down.)

After that we treated ourselves to lunch at the Top of the World restaurant, which, like the Space Needle, is a restaurant which slowly rotates, giving the customer a full three hundred and sixty degree view of the city over the course of an hour and twenty minutes. It’s also home to the most delicious lobster-brie-cheddar grilled cheese sandwich and tomato bisque I’ve ever had in my LIFE. One of the perks includes fancy signs mounted on the walls which read: “SkyJumpers may go by during dinner. Feel free to wave.”

Next we rushed back to the hotel to spend a few precious minutes by the pool only to have the weather turn. Also, the Luxor claims that one pool is heated. I call bull on that crap. I fully acknowledge that the idea of a swimming pool in Vegas is to cool off, not warm up, but seriously people? In the off season, some temp control could be awesome. So much for getting a tan. So I moseyed back upstairs and got all dolled up for O at the Bellagio!

Richard Corliss of Time magazine once concluded, “O is forever.” After seeing it live, after having waited to do so for years, I completely understand what the hype is about. O is beautiful. O is elemental. Most of all, O is human. Though I say this about every Cirque show – that it speaks to things which are real, but in a language fantastic and so far from the everyday monotony twenty-first century life can achieve – O took it to an entirely new level. Perhaps it was that the main character began as an audience-member, planted to look like a tourist and pulled into Cirque’s world only to become a castaway, awash on the shores of his own subconscious. Perhaps it was simply this character’s quality as an everyday person, extraordinary in his quest to return the handkerchief of a sylph, but unsure and occasionally even trepid in his methods of achieving it. Furthermore, the show referenced its own dream-like quality very directly in the very end of the show. But, like a good punchline or a particularly delicious plot twist, that is something which I simply cannot spoil for you.

What I can tell you, however, is that there more was passion in this show than I feel like I’ve seen for a long time. The Fan-Dancer and the Flamenco-Beau/Grave-Riser were particularly great side-characters. The Fan Dancer was perhaps the best example. He had his solo and moved like he meant it, and as he finished the first sequence, he cried to a largely non-responsive audience, “Where is your SPIRIT!?” I cheered, and so did the people around me.

I feel like some of the raw energy, or perhaps the blood and sweat connection between the performer and the viewer, is lost in such huge venues, which is regrettable. O could not be achieved without the technological wizardry which makes the shifting, draining, sinking stage possible, and yet the spirit of the big top is not quite carried to the audience. The same happened with Mystère. The audience felt more removed, less bated-breath and clutched programs. Perhaps I’m alone in this sensation, who knows? But I can tell you that O is indeed forever, and I would recommend it just as highly as I would my other favorites. It’s on par with Koozå, with Varekai, even, dare I say, with Alegría. For those of you who have read my entry on Alegría, my most nostalgic show, you know what that means. For those of you who have not, I will say this: it is one of the most visually stunning, daring, and innovative performances I have ever witnessed, and I firmly believe that it will remain that way. From the moment the curtain pulled back, I was breathless and near tears.

So, dear readers, if you dare, visit Cirque.com and take a gander at the O trailer. It’s worth it, and that show, this whole trip, was the best birthday present I think I have ever received.

I would end on that note, but I have one last gory detail before the tale of these four days is done: strangely, the majority of the Bellagio restaurants close at 10:00 or 10:30 PM. How weird is that in the city that never sleeps? However, it resulted in the lovely discovery of Noodles, a small restaurant tucked away in the back with some of the best Chinese and Thai food I’ve ever had. Bon appétit.

After that late night meal it began to rain. It ushered us back to our rooms to pack, and rejoined us on the ground in Portland today. And that, my dears, cover to cover, is the end.

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