When you first arrive at your hotel in Vegas - the sights and sounds are unfamiliar. The first trip from the check in desk to the guest elevators is achieved by following the signs, that weave you the long way around the slots. The path you follow is carpeted in a plain pattern, so sub consciously you are pulled around the desired route. It takes a couple of trips before you become aware of the ploy - slip between the slots and head directly for you intended destination.
Day one you amble along the carpeted route taking in the sights and sounds. Day two you do your best to sidestep dawdlers and navigate the casino like a pro. Day three you're a snipers nightmare - as you dodge punters and slots to exit the battle field unharmed - sanity in tact.
The garish decor designed to stimulate your senses on day 1 - pain those same senses in the coming days.
The call of the slot machines, enticing you to play, the clink of clay chips as they hit the green baize, the whir of the roulette wheel spinning with the machine gun splatter as the ball finds its slot, the gentle thud of the dice hitting the padded backboard and the baize of the craps table - all of these sounds entice your senses when you first arrive. These same sounds become Chinese water torture in the twilight zone. By the day we checked out - we ducked and weaved through the casino - our mission to reach the exit in as short a time as possible, anxious to breathe fresh air and hear the laconic sounds of traffic.
Thursday, December 30, 2010
Saturday, December 25, 2010
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
Slice of NY in LA
I had an out-of-state experience yesterday.
I spent 2 years living in Manhattan, and have many vivid memories of my early days there - visiting a deli to order a bagel and coffee - and being intimidated by the frenetic pace and quick fire questions of the counter staff. The get-'em-in get-'em-out - "wadda-u-want?" approach to customer service took a bit of getting used to, especially since I was fresh off the boat from jolly old, gentle-paced England.
I knew I'd transitioned from "visitor to NY" into "local" - when I could order my bagel and coffee during the daily quick fire challenge, and got annoyed with "visitors" who fumbled and umm'd over what they wanted to order.
Bagel places in LA just don't have the NY edge. Most of them are Californian watered down, sanitized versions of their NY counterparts. So the bagel experience just isn't complete.
I was in on Wilshire Boulevard in Santa Monica yesterday. Not a usual haunt, but as I walked to my car, my senses were assulted by the smell of fresh coffee and toasted bagels, and I was drawn, hypnotically, to the outside of New York Bagels & Deli.
It's an unobtrusive store front, and truth be told, a little dodgy looking. But the aroma's lured me to the front door, and that one step over the threshold transported me 3,000 miles, and once again I was in Manhattan.
The interior decor and ambiance was classic NY, and the bagels and coffee didn't disappoint! And for that extra touch - all the staff wore, classic blue NY Police Department tee-shirts - with the shop logo - NYBD. I left there smiling, vowing to return.
I spent 2 years living in Manhattan, and have many vivid memories of my early days there - visiting a deli to order a bagel and coffee - and being intimidated by the frenetic pace and quick fire questions of the counter staff. The get-'em-in get-'em-out - "wadda-u-want?" approach to customer service took a bit of getting used to, especially since I was fresh off the boat from jolly old, gentle-paced England.
I knew I'd transitioned from "visitor to NY" into "local" - when I could order my bagel and coffee during the daily quick fire challenge, and got annoyed with "visitors" who fumbled and umm'd over what they wanted to order.
Bagel places in LA just don't have the NY edge. Most of them are Californian watered down, sanitized versions of their NY counterparts. So the bagel experience just isn't complete.
I was in on Wilshire Boulevard in Santa Monica yesterday. Not a usual haunt, but as I walked to my car, my senses were assulted by the smell of fresh coffee and toasted bagels, and I was drawn, hypnotically, to the outside of New York Bagels & Deli.
It's an unobtrusive store front, and truth be told, a little dodgy looking. But the aroma's lured me to the front door, and that one step over the threshold transported me 3,000 miles, and once again I was in Manhattan.
The interior decor and ambiance was classic NY, and the bagels and coffee didn't disappoint! And for that extra touch - all the staff wore, classic blue NY Police Department tee-shirts - with the shop logo - NYBD. I left there smiling, vowing to return.
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