Note: Wireless Internet is a good thing, when it works. I posted the following blog in Las Vegas, but learned later it never made it out of my computer. This is the last one of my travelog series. AB

We’ve been here 72 hours and we are on overload. We’ve seen the Venetian, the Mirage, Caesar’s Palace, Treasure Island, the Frontier, the Wynn, the Bellagio, New York New York, Bally’s, Paris, the list goes on and on. These are all hotels on the Strip, each with its own claim to fame. It reminds me of the play, Gypsy” and one of the hootin’ songs in it, “You Gotta Have A Gimmick.” Every hotel here subscribes to that theory.

The Venetian replicates Venice down to indoor and outdoor canals where you can pay for a gondola ride and a song from the gondolier. The Mirage has a volcano that erupts on time. Caesar’s Palace has a shopping mall that’s over the top. Treasure Island has pirate ships. But I think my favorite hotel is the Wynn, which has a golf course on the premises. I don’t play golf and I didn’t get anywhere near the course, but what I liked was the more elegant ambiance of the hotel. If golf was its gimmick, it was subtle and gracious. By comparison to the other hotels the Wynn is understated. This doesn’t mean the flowers and chandeliers and shops are unimpressive; rather, they are more so because they don’t shout at you.

My second favorite hotel is one that has been around for years, unlike the Wynn which just opened. From the outside, the Flamingo looks like an aging high rise, but behind this faзade are gardens and pools with live fish, various species of swans, and even a penguin habitat. It felt restful after walking through so many casinos amid so many tourists.

As a sidetrip, when our feet were screaming for a brief time-out, we jumped in a cab and went to visit the Liberace Museum. Liberace was to his generation what Elton John is to his. Both showmen, both piano players, both fancy costumers. I imagine many people no longer remember Liberace, but we all did; so his museum was a trip back in time. It was also sobering to wonder if today’s music lovers will remember Sir Elton twenty-five years after his death.

Note: Wireless Internet is a good thing, when it works. I posted the following blog in Las Vegas, but learned later it never made it out of my computer. AB

Themes are big here in Las Vegas: the Orient, the Occident, magic, pirates, Jimmy Buffet. Our first sampling was the Orient.

Our hotel is called the Imperial Palace, and there are hints of a pagoda rooftop on the highest floor. Some of the staff appears to be of Oriental descent too. But other than that, I’m not sure why the hotel is named what it is. It suits our needs, however, because of its central location on the Strip and because of its price.

Last night, after we settled into our Imperial Palace hotel room, we went in search of food. Long story short, we ended up at a restaurant called the Empress Court in the Caesar’s Palace complex. By the time we sat down at our table, our primary criterion for dinner was a quiet restaurant away from the kaching-kaching of the casinos. And the Empress Court did not disappoint. It was soothingly quiet, as Earl and I relaxed in our banquette and toasted each other with our libation of choice.

The restaurant’s authentic Oriental touches included lovely chopsticks resting on a pewter holder at each diner’s place, fresh flowers on the table, and hot cloths to wipe the hands before eating. Dishes were served simply but graciously; the service was impeccable and invisible. By the time we left and headed back to our room, we felt greatly refreshed from our day of travel and eager to explore what else Las Vegas offers.

Before homo sapiens became somewhat civilized, he and she must have been more comfortable as part of a herd, rather like other animals still in the wild. Vestiges of this herd behavior still show up where large numbers of people are on the move.

We joined this migrating group today at Midway Airport where we went to catch the plane (Question: How many people does it take to catch a plane?) for Las Vegas. We pressed together in indiscernible lines to go through security, removing shoes and belt buckles and clunky watches and other accoutrement of civilization.

Various members of the herd exhibited their anxieties with their cellphones. “I just wanted to call you,” shouted the young woman behind me. She wasn’t talking to me; she was talking to someone on her cell. “I’m in the line at security; they’re gonna make me turn off my phone soon. I’ll call you when I get on the other side.” So, basically this was a telephone call to the recipient to tell him or her that she would call in a few minutes. I chalked it up to nervousness.

Earl and I moved through the checkpoint like elephants lumbering toward water. On the other side, we found our gate and — since the airline was Southwest — again joined another group according to the order we would board. This time the man behind us was holding onto his girlfriend with one hand and a wedding dress carefully wrapped in plastic with the name of a bridal salon inscribed across it with the other. Someone else in the herd inquired about this to learn the couple was being married in Las Vegas tonight. Primal approval in the form of smiles and nods followed.

Four hours later Earl and I landed in the Las Vegas airport to be greeted by slot machines at the end of our jetway. Those little arms were waving up and down in greeting. For me, it was a jarring experience, but I imagine I’ll get used to it. We dragged our wheelies through the terminal and found the right shuttle to our hotel, but not without standing in more lines. We lined up for a ticket on the shuttle; we lined up at the hotel to register; we lined up to get an elevator.

And, at last, we are in our room, no longer part of the thundering herd. Instead, we’re planning on changing clothes and finding something to eat. Preferably in a quiet place devoid of the masses.