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America as Seen from the “Fremont Experience”

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The Fremont Experience at Night

I fully expected that our trip to Las Vegas last week would make for some great people watching. That it did, in spades. We were in the downtown area at the Plaza Hotel, which is at the west end of Fremont Street and of the four-block Fremont Experience. Even though we were in town on a Monday through Thursday after a three-day weekend, the Fremont Experience was crowded. I attribute this partly to the cold temperatures and biting winds, which made the enclosed space a particularly desirable destination.

Here’s what I noticed about the tourists in downtown Vegas:

  1. Most of the tourists were obese. Those who were proud of their fat congregated in large numbers at the Heart Attack Café, where they sat in wheelchairs wearing hospital gowns and being waited upon by sexy “nurses.” By the way, the restaurants went in for quantity more than quality of food.
  2. Among the men, a large percentage had beards and frequently extensive tattoos—and not a Maori in sight!
  3. Many of the older tourists (and some of the younger ones) were in fancy motorized wheelchairs. Some of these disabled visitors (or did they just get tired of walking any more?) were grotesquely obese.
  4. It seemed to be de rigeur for most of the males and some of the women to be always clutching super-sized cocktails as they walked around. In fact, I was surprised how much drinking was going on at all times.
  5. Very few tourists were to be seen even one block north or south of the Fremont Experience. Martine, who did not like the Experience, was happy to walk around it to get to our destinations.
  6. There was loud pop music everywhere, mostly of the “Wall of Sound” variety, which gets on one’s nerves after a while.

Probably the tourists we saw were not representative of most Americans. If they were, I think I would feel even more isolated than I usually do.

Fortunately, Martine and I enjoyed ourselves even though we were not obese lushes tattooed liked escapees from a carnival.

Is This Necessarily a Good Thing?

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“If It Doesn’t Get All Over the Place, It Doesn’t Belong in Your Face”

“If It Doesn’t Get All Over the Place, It Doesn’t Belong in Your Face”

The motto that serves as the caption to the above photograph comes from the Carls Jr. Restaurant Chain in the 1990s. Ads showed children trying to eat giant burgers that dripped all over the table and their clothes.

I myself am not partial to the idea of unmanageable food. I would rather convey my meal directly from the plate via a fork or spoon into my mouth, and thence to my esophagus. Much to Martine’s dismay, however, there are three things that lead to indelible food stains on my shirtfronts:

  1. When I eat alone, I am always reading a magazine or newspaper;
  2. There is a protuberance that juts out over my belt line that serves to catch whatever falls off my utensils; and
  3. I like Asian and Latino foods that are served with sauces that attack me when I am not super-careful.

I am not going to stop reading when I eat alone: That would be unthinkable. Of course, I could lose eighty pounds, but that’s even more unthinkable. Perhaps my forks or spoons should come equipped with a high-gravity force field that would keep food on it until it is suctioned off by my mouth.

Many times, when I call Martine from work, she complains about stains that she is using various chemical means to eradicate, but with mixed success. I talk about replacing the shirts with new ones, but that just tends to upset her.

A former girlfriend bought a gold lamé bib for me which I think looks slightly effeminate. Perhaps I should wear a poncho or raincoat whenever I eat. At least, it wouldn’t raise any more eyebrows than that damned gold lamé bib.