Allow me to diffuse any polarization that my last blog piece created:
The thrust of the negative reaction I received read along the lines that "the data doesn't lie, Vegas is doing very well, and if the desires of a few get sacrificed while the the needs of many are met, then so be it--the bottom line is fine." More confusingly, I got accused of being a "get off my lawn" type of grump, despite that I was forming an argument for the value of having more fun.
So, just to repeat the core issue before I get to my true feelings about electronic music: If I stop having fun in Vegas and decide not to come back, there is no issue.
There are other places that I know about which are quite nice during June and July, and the free market is on my side here. It's not simply that I want to be relaxed and happy in return for the time and the thousands of dollars I spend at resort destinations, I actually have some amount of affection for the service industry.
I think Vegas is a spectacular city for its service core: This city built something from nothing. No one was here before, but an enormous league of people was compelled to populate the town, and for what? To serve others.
Besides Hollywood, it's hard to think of a more genuinely American industry. Sure, the French might have invented cooking with butter, but it was the American restaurant boom that began in the late 90s where hospitality was perfected and eventually exported. And while I'm no economist, it seems possible that as long as we keep figuring out new ways to sell each other coffee and beer, gas, grass and ass and entertainment, maybe it won't matter that the factories have closed.
My ability to evaluate service arises from a large sample size of experience on both sides of the fence, as my most recent pre-poker job was working at high-end restaurant in NYC, Blue Ribbon Brooklyn, which used to stay open until 4AM. It was the type of place where a "two-top" could walk in at 3:59AM and get served a full meal with properly paced service.
My very first job in high school was behind a coffee bar on the Upper West Side. I learned there that you were supposed to take pride in your work even if your work was cleaning up other people's dirty dishes, and I also learned that you could wind up spending a bunch of time preparing an $80 coffee order for the Die Hard With A Vengeance crew, working nearby on a shoot in Central Park, and not receive a tip.
At my next job, delivering pizza on bicycle for a major pizza franchise, I learned things like: Chris Elliot is a good tipper. A $30 kickdown on a $22 bill was memorable for a 17 year old, and it remains so. Secondly, you could fuck up someone's pizza when your bike slips on the ice during a delivery to the projects on 96th and Columbus, but even hungry people are understanding and will tip a second time after you re-deliver a fresh pie.
I also learned from the attitude and spirit of my fellow delivery guys. George from Georgia, who could drink a glass of vodka like it was water and always tossed off the first cigarette from a fresh pack as a gesture of good luck. When my coworker Nasry got his bike stolen on a delivery, I asked, "What did you do?"
He said, "I did what anybody else would have done, I walked."
***
I've also had the privilege to patronize many of the greatest restaurants, casinos and entertainment venues across the world, so all in all, I think I know what constitutes standard in the hospitality industry; I appreciate good service and have a high tolerance for subpar service, because I know anyone can have a bad day and accidentally transfer the anger to their job. I don't punish weak servers with a short tip, because my grandmother taught me to operate under the philosophy that crappy waiters had a family to feed and deserved the same 20% as their more competent counterparts.
The gift and the curse is that I can usually spot 10 things a restaurant staff has done correctly or incorrectly before the bread plate is served, and if Las Vegas wanted to hire me as a hospitality consultant, I could probably point out a 100 or more things that were at least slightly off during my first few days hopping around town.
Since that information would probably be worth money to someone willing to package and sell the service, I'll leave it to him and instead use my most recent walkabout as the example to draw from:
Heading from Bellagio to Aria to meet a friend, I managed to get lost. Maybe it was because the Prada store, my usual Aria starting point, was closed, but I was suddenly disoriented, standing amidst the full range of designer retail stores, all closed.
It took at least a few minutes to figure out where the casino was, and when I did, I had to leave the mall area, walk outside and then through another quasi-labyrinth before finding the high roller bar, where my friend was waiting.
It took at least a few minutes to figure out where the casino was, and when I did, I had to leave the mall area, walk outside and then through another quasi-labyrinth before finding the high roller bar, where my friend was waiting.
Despite there being only two other customers at the bar, it took another few minutes for the bartender to get around to acknowledging the possibility that I might want a beverage. To set the scene, I ought to also mention that my friend, one of the more recognizable and accomplished gamblers in this town, was already at the bar drinking.
I swallowed my frustration and overtipped anyway, since I prefer to enjoy the occasional drink with an old friend without letting a lazy bartender ruin that mood. After leaving the bar, I managed to get lost on the way to the strip again.
I swallowed my frustration and overtipped anyway, since I prefer to enjoy the occasional drink with an old friend without letting a lazy bartender ruin that mood. After leaving the bar, I managed to get lost on the way to the strip again.
At least I stumbled upon this art on the way:
As I neared the north exit of the Cosmo, I spotted a blackjack setup and a provocatively dressed dealer. As soon as I took off my headphones, I realized the music in the gaming area was obtrusively loud. Nevertheless, I slid $100 out of my pocket and asked her to make change. She asked me to keep the cigarette smoke out of her face, and I apologized and repositioned the ashtray.
It was a $15 table, and I put 3 red chips on two spots. "You have to put at least $25 to play two spots," she said, uttering a rule that is semi-common, and with a slight hint of antagonism. She began to spread and shuffle, but when she couldn't affect any semblance of grace the next time she asked me to keep the smoke out of her way, I had had enough.
"You know what? I don't feel like playing, gimme my money back."
I took the black chip and bounced.
***
See, it wasn't too long ago that the same scenario plays out much differently, when a similar type of gambler might wound up seduced on his way out the door. Could be that gambler had too much to drink or smoke or just didn't give a fuck that night, and soon his $100 buyin became $1,000 and from there it wasn't much of a difference between $10k and $100k getting spewed.
Because remember, "whoever invented gambling was smart, but whoever invented chips was a genius," and that was pretty much the core guiding principle that created Vegas--the willingness to exploit illusion for profit.
We accepted that and even rejoiced in the challenge of not getting beat by a city that was designed to disorient us. Remember when the biggest curiosities and challenges from within a casino was the supposed oxygen-pumping and the lack of clocks on the wall? How on earth will we ever know what time it is, you crazy casino?!?!
Nowadays, you gotta get lucky just to find the casino floor after the trail of closed-for-the-night Armani shops ends.
The dispiriting thing is Aria was made that way by design. At one point, I remember the plans for "City Center" were supposed to include things that resembled a normal human city, with features like parks and dog walks. Instead, they opted to build the umpteenth luxury mega-mall, and the result of short-sighted urban planning are felt from the sidewalk on Las Vegas Blvd. to the top floors of Vdara.
So, maybe the bottom line is fine, because maybe it has to be. If you can't lure degenerate gamblers with their favorite drug (because the parephenlia is just so awful), you best hope the demand for Gucci stays strong and the nightclub industry maintains its clamp on large scale entertainment options.
Despite the fact that cultural trends are ever-shifting, it seems the "Vegas is doing just fine" faction is saying that predicting trends and adapting to them (once a trademark of Vegas' corporate innovation) isn't super important to the bottom line.
What if the bottom line is being eaten away more subtly and slowly, though, and maybe you can see it in the form of illogical urban design scaled by billions?
What if the bottom line is being eaten away more subtly and slowly, though, and maybe you can see it in the form of illogical urban design scaled by billions?
You can definitely see it in the form of a blackjack dealer who is likely ultra titled from having to stand around in a loud, dark room, dressed sexy, while catering to the type of player who applauds after winning a double-down.
Maybe her bottom line isn't doing so well, and maybe I'm not the only who is affected by her lousy disposition, not the only potential spazz who take his negative EV elsewhere.
I am Vegas' ideal customer: I enjoy lots of things so it ought to be easy to get me. Whether it's movies and music, Prada or pizza, hookers and blow, whatever you got. I also like hiking and climbing trees and Red Rocks, so it's kind of remarkable to create a place with all that stuff that manifests as an atmosphere that I am unable to enjoy.
People in this country tend to work very hard for their money, and if their memories of the Vegas trip they saved hard for ultimately leaves a less pleasant impression than their last vacation spot, guess where next year's vacation budget goes?
At some point the corporate bigwigs will realize, one way or another, that the customer IS the bottom line. They will adapt to the actual needs of human beings, or find out the hard way that we have our own way of adapting to corporations.
Maybe her bottom line isn't doing so well, and maybe I'm not the only who is affected by her lousy disposition, not the only potential spazz who take his negative EV elsewhere.
I am Vegas' ideal customer: I enjoy lots of things so it ought to be easy to get me. Whether it's movies and music, Prada or pizza, hookers and blow, whatever you got. I also like hiking and climbing trees and Red Rocks, so it's kind of remarkable to create a place with all that stuff that manifests as an atmosphere that I am unable to enjoy.
People in this country tend to work very hard for their money, and if their memories of the Vegas trip they saved hard for ultimately leaves a less pleasant impression than their last vacation spot, guess where next year's vacation budget goes?
At some point the corporate bigwigs will realize, one way or another, that the customer IS the bottom line. They will adapt to the actual needs of human beings, or find out the hard way that we have our own way of adapting to corporations.