Hotel Of The Living Dead

Rumor tells of a mythical elephant graveyard. A place where elder pachyderms go to die. I have found it's human equivalent, right here at the beautiful Riviera hotel and casino. Vegas as a whole is a magnet for the elderly, with it's 24 hour restaurants which make having dinner at 2pm an easy task, and the fact that no one cares if you wear your house dress and slippers at the slot machines.

The Riviera seems like a top destination for the over seventy crowd. While it is a nice hotel with all the services you'd expect from a Vegas property, it's not one of the brand new, high tech resorts that are a little further South on "The Strip." This makes the geezers feel right at home. They don't have to contend with the young wipper snappers and there party mentality. They can wander around at a snails pace and not be run over by marauding groups of euro-trash party boys, or squealing groups of young Asian women in "Hello Kitty" mini-skirts. No, they can set their own pace, and set it they do. I had the misfortune of getting behind a geezer blockade last night on my way to the club. I was trapped in a death gauntlet between the bar on one side and slots on the other. These two wide bodied old ladies were meandering along with frequent pauses to take in a little more oxygen. You could almost see the cloud of dust I left when I was finally able to pass them.

The elderly also seem to really enjoy the penny slots. I don't get this at all. If you don't have any money to gamble, should you even be in Vegas? I can't see the fun of sitting in front of a slot machine anyway. You just stare at a machine that makes horrible noises and you push a button. To quote "Daughter"..."Boring"! I guess they play the penny slots for the free drinks. I'm sure those waitresses make loads of dough off the grannies pumping in upwards of $1.57 into the one button bandits. There must be a good reason for the penny slots. Maybe it's because even if you're losing, you won't end up eating cat food when you get back to the home.

I saw one little old woman on the house phone last night. She was in full Vegas uniform, Grey hair sprayed stiff with Aqua-Net, nylon running suit for comfort, fanny pack and an unfiltered Camel hanging from her lips. She was yelling at someone to "get down here, I hit the jackpot." There was no joy in her voice, only the harsh rasp of an 80 year old smoker. I hope she made good use of her $10.98. Maybe she went across the street to Circus Circus for the $ prime rib dinner.

Nothing exciting for me yet, but it's early. I've got plenty of time for debauchery. I better go get a running suit and fanny pack. Later...Brian