Why Stop With Sin City? Let’s Go for Sin Metropolis

Why are people giving Police Chief Willie L. Williams such a hard time about a few trips he’s made to Las Vegas? If I were head cop in this messed-up town, I’d be spending as much time as I could in the only city in America where hope--however misguided--springs eternal.

Las Vegas, bless it, is the Land of Infinite Possibility, where no venture is too grand, too expensive, too outlandish, too hideous. All Americans should be forced to visit the place at least once a year.

We paid homage last week. In bumper-to-bumper traffic, as we inched past Barstow, rude truckers and RVs, visions of jackpots, exploding volcanoes, pirate ships and $7 prime rib buffets filled our heads.

Except for the jackpots, we were not disappointed.

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It’s easy to love Las Vegas. Almost as easy as it is to hate it. The place is awesome, disgusting, perplexing, thrilling.

Visiting Las Vegas is the closest you can come to doing drugs without breaking the law.

It’s the only city in America that makes bad acid redundant.

It’s the only city, come to think of it, that makes a lot of things redundant.

Egypt, for example. The Loire Valley. The ocean. The jungle.

Why deal with inoculations and jet lag when you have a better-looking Sphinx and pyramid a mere five-hour drive from Los Angeles? I’ve seen the pyramids. Believe me, they are paltry little pollution-eroded disappointments compared to the sleek, black Luxor hotel.

And why face rude French people who mock your sad attempts to speak their language when you can visit a castle more cartoonish than anything found on the banks of the Loire?

Don’t bother with Hawaii either. At the Mirage Hotel, you got your exploding volcano in the front, your dolphins in a $13-million “natural” habitat in the back and your white tigers in a cage in the middle that, at the very least, is less depressing than that pathetic, dingy polar bear at the L.A. Zoo.

Las Vegas lacks authenticity, you say? Not true. The ultimate, Las Vegas worldview was contained in this overheard remark: “Look!” said a young woman, pointing to a new mini-mall construction project with pagoda-like architectural flourishes. “We’re getting a Chinatown!”

Las Vegas has the best authenticity money can buy.

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As fabulously tacky as the town may be, there are realms that remain unexplored. I hereby offer my consultant services to the Las Vegas Chamber of Obscenely High Gambling Profits.

These are the projects I envision:

* Birthday Cake Hotel and Casino: If they can build a better pyramid, they can definitely bake a better cake. The hotel is a giant, three-tiered, pink-and-white confection with 20-foot candles sticking out the roof. Each night, the candles explode into flames, rivaling the Mirage’s volcano. Anybody celebrating a birthday gets a reduced room rate and free “piece of cake” if you catch my drift. People who can prove they’re older than 35 are eligible for discounts on procedures in the Plastic Surgery Center, conveniently located on the main floor. Party hats, nut cups and strip-o-grams available at every meal.

* Casino Corral: The world’s first outdoor casino ‘n’ ranch combo. It’ll be hot and dusty in the summer, cold and gusty in the winter--just like the open range. Gamblers are herded like cattle from corral to corral as casino personnel shout, “Git along losin’ dawgies!” Big losers are forced into a special performance corral, then hogtied and branded with dollar signs by real live cowpokes on horseback. Children’s entertainment is a big draw: Herds of French poodles, all shaved and greased, will stampede through small, muddy enclosures as children whose parents need a break run around trying to capture them. Trampled children returned to parents in a timely fashion.

* No Chemicals Casino and Hotel: The world’s first resort destination for those who suffer from chemical sensitivities. Shaped like a bubble, everything--furniture, beds, carpets, walls--covered with clear plastic. No perfume, no after-shave, no deodorant, no soap, no detergent allowed. Only organically grown, pesticide-free food served. No alcohol either, just bottled water with anti-depressants on the side. Floor shows replaced by consciousness-raising rap groups. Nightly game show for guests called “Name That Symptom!” Psychiatric services available 24-hours a day.

* Reality Island Casino: Motto: “Sucks, doesn’t it?” Your in-laws are flown in by hotel management, especially if you come for a romantic anniversary weekend. You bus your own dishes and make your own bed. Mandatory cholesterol tests administered each morning. Walls decorated with the real gambling odds and cute little sayings: “Why do you think the drinks are FREE?” and “Go ahead, pull the lever! Your kid can go to college some other time!” and “Nice to see you again, Chief. Does the Police Commission know you’re here?”