Enjoying Las Vegas qua Las Vegas

While I did those things for which I came to Vegas, Debbie had been rammin' around the various hotels and casinos much of Saturday. The Liberty Lives! Conference was over after a nice buffet lunch early Sunday afternoon, following which I became freed up to check out some of these things, as well.

Debbie had been talking about seeing a show while we were there, but many of them were closed Sunday and others were outrageously expensive. Since we'd talked about seeing one of the tribute shows, she bought a couple of tix for a show called "The Rat Pack is back!"

As we walked from our hotel to the Greek Isles Hotel and Casino, which contains the theater at which the show is presented, we began to be concerned, as we noted that the building had a rather "weathered" appearance. Our concern was not partucularly diminished as we entered the building and observed a relatively small and spartan casino.

Concern mounted as we went to the will-call window to get out tickets. The male member of the couple in front of us was having a discussion with the clerk.

"Sandy said the tickets would be here for me."

I couldn't hear the "I'm sorry sir, I don't find anything in your name."

The man produced a cell phone. "Just a second. I'll call Sandy." And, turning to me, "I'm sorry this is taking so long."

He says something I can't hear to his phone, then hands it through the slot in the window. "Here's Sandy."

After a few seconds, the clerk hands the phone back to the gentleman, then after several seconds, pushed his tickets out to the gentleman.

He took his tickets, thanked the clerk. He and his lady turned to Debbie and me, apologizing once again.

Well, Debbie and I got our tickets, then went to the hotel's restaurant for a pretty ordinary dinner while waiting for showtime.

When we were seated, 'twas at a table well back from the stage. We were going to have trouble seeing over those in front of us. After pondering that fact for a few minutes, we were approached by an usher, who offered us better seats down near the stage. Whoopee!

The show turned out to be excellent! "Dean Martin" sang a couple of his standards, and did so extremely well. Facially, one could tell it wasn't really Dean Martin, but that's about the only way. He had the voice, the moves and the manerisms, not to mention the Dean Martin rap. As the show continued, the same proved to be true of "Sammy Davis, Jr," "Joey Bishop" and "Frank Sinatra." They were really good!

About two-thirds of the way though the show, "Marilyn Monroe" joins the group on stage. She banters with the boys in perfect Marilyn Monroe style, then is given the stage. She sings, going out into the aisles, soon asking who's having a birthday. Interacting with those who respond, she picks out an elderly gentleman and proceeds to sing Happy Birthday, in the style the original performer famously sang to President Kennedy, years ago. Planting a couple of lipsticky kisses 'pon the gentleman's face, she returned to the stage for the rand finale act, performed by all five performers, during which a jet of air reproduced the famous skirt-lifting scene from The Seven-Year Itch."

Great show!

As we stood to exit the room, who's sitting in the booth directly behind us? The couple who were in front of us at the will-call window. We chatted, briefly. Turns out he's Dick Hardwick, a comedian currently working at the Sahara. "Sandy," was Sandy Hackett, son of the late, great Buddy Hackett. Sandy is one of the producers of the show, and plays Joey Bishop.

We left the room still chatting with Dick and his wife, and ended up meeting the members of the cast and talking with them for a little while. Dick didn't say anyting, but I'm pretty sure it was he who got Debbie and me the better seats down near his table. Cool!

And I got to hug "Marilyn Monroe!"

We went casino hopping the next day, and did a little more gambling, collected a few souvenirs and went up to the top of Paris Las Vegas' Eiffel Tower. It might only be half the size of the original in Paris, but 'twas still very high at the observation deck up top. Debbie was white knuckling the handrail.

Then, there was the drive home. We'd had a lot of fun, and I include the drive home in my favorite car, at night, across the desert under the stars. There's a Bob's Big Boy in Baker. I haven't eaten at a Bob's Big Boy in easily fifteen years.

It would've been worth it just to drive there and then drive back.

They've killed Freedom! Those bastards!

Warm regards,

Col. Hogan
Stalag California