Blowhard, Esq. writes:
When it comes to traveling, my dad would say it’s a waste to spend a lot of money on a hotel room. “What’s the point? You’re gone all day. All you do is sleep there.” Sensible advice, I must say.
Sensible advice that I plan on ignoring ever since I stayed at The Palazzo in Vegas. Time for a phototour!
Hey look, an arbor gate in the making. (OK, maybe more like an arbor arch.)
Let’s take a look inside. Here’s the quite impressive lobby.
The waterfall. You can book it for a wedding.
Now, it’s up the escalator, around the corner, and into the Vegas version of the Piazzo San Marco.
Being Venice — or should I say “Venice” — there must be canals.
The themed architecture is like Disneyland for adults. Did the guys who designed this hire any of the Imagineers as consultants? Here are a few details.
While there, I heard a great story about this place. The director Michael Almereyda, after visiting, had a genius idea: film the entirety of Shakespeare’s The Merchant of Venice here, in the Venetian/Palazzo Canal Shoppes. When the wife of owner Sheldon Adelson heard about his plans, she nixed the idea, saying the play is antisemitic. But guess what? A different corporation was leasing the retail space and they were happy to have someone use it as a film set. Almereyda got John Logan to write a script and Patrick Stewart, Ian McKellen, Zooey Deschanel, Gerard Butler, Thomas Jane, Q’orianka Kilcher, Sam Shepard, Elliott Gould, and Thora Birch were all cast. Unfortunately for us, the financing fell through a few weeks before shooting was to begin, dammit. Maybe they should put it up on Kickstarter?
Oh, right, I was here for a lawyer convention, a convention of Los Angeles plaintiffs’ trial lawyers no less. Here’s what the lectures looked like.
Yup, pretty boring. I learned such valuable lessons as “If the state bar sends you a letter, respond or you could get in trouble.” (Thanks for the advice, judge!) The exhibit hall was slightly more entertaining. Check out the dudez on the right just chillin’ and networkin’ and shit.
The Leggy Blonde seemed to be the preferred booth babe.
But Vegas is a town that wakes up when the sun goes down. In my next installments, we’ll talk a walk down the Strip and check out the indigenous wildlife.
Blowhard, Esq.
Callowman
Sherbrooke
Eddie Pensier
Enzo Nakamura
Epaminondas
Fabrizio del Wrongo
Fenster
Brundle Guy
Glynn Marshes
Paleo Retiree
Atypical Neurotic
Question Lady
Sax von Stroheim
Sir Barken Hyena
The Mistaken
Uncouth Reflections 
Do I hear the approach of the short skirt brigade?
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Brigade? More like an invading army. The whole city swarms with them.
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Looks like the set of an Astaire-Rogers picture.
I’ve always liked Michael Almereyda.
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Someone needs to write him a check so he can make that movie. If I had the money, I’d do it myself.
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Fun pix and tour. I always loved going to conventions. For one thing: it sure beat the usual day at the office.
I remember being struck, the first time I visited Vegas (back in the ’70s), by the way most of the attractive women were doing their best to get themselves up like high class hookers. First time I’d ever run across that (and good to know that it’s still the archetype in Vegas!). Are the women conscious that they’re mimicking hooker style?
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They absolutely know they are. A friend related a favorite bit of dialogue he overheard at the airport once. A girl is walking quickly through the terminal, yelling into her cell phone and says something like, “I’m at the airport but I’m going straight to the hotel to put on my hooker dress!”
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Women love to dress up like hookers. It’s been amusing over the last 15 years to watch Halloween turn into Dress Like a Hooker Day.
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Good point. It’s no longer dress up like a nurse or cop, it’s dress up like a Sexy Nurse or Sexy Cop.
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…or Sexy Schoolgirl
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Jeez, how could I forget that one? A classic.
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Funny, last time I was in Vegas, my friends and I had this same discussion. Vegas is year-round Halloween for ladies: a socially acceptable excuse to wear as few clothes as possible while so many menfolk are still bro-ing out in shorts and stupid hats. (Some do spruce up too.)
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women in short skirts, men in stupid hats, it will all end in tears.
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I walked down the Strip behind two young female friends. One was wearing a dress that could barely be called a dress, hardly covering her rear. The other was wearing long, wide, floral pants. Some are immune to the siren call of slutty Vegas.
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Hey! At the rate my hair is falling out, I will soon be one of those men in a stupid hat. (Fedora? Porkpie?)
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seems that we have gone from vegas to venice to hookers… Just want to mention that I lived in the real Venezia for a while back when it had more in common with NYC/grime+crime. These days, Venice—the world heritage site—has more in common with the Palazzo in Vegas than with Renaissance Italia. You have captured it perfectly.
yes my skirt is short, so am I.
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