Are We There Yet?

Last week's blog contributions were limited to one because I took my semi-annual sojourn to Las Vegas. I used to go more often, but having become both jaded to its gaudy charms and somewhat more risk-averse since the Dotcom Bubble Burst, I limit my trips to occasions when I can encounter novelty, such as the MGM show "KA" or the opening of a major new casino. The latter was this month's case, as Steve Wynn's new plush tower beckoned my curiosity.

The Wynn Casino is a cousin to Wynn's Bellagio and bellweather of a new stream of megacasino/shopping/residential complexes to fill out the high-end of the Strip in the next five years. Unlike the Harrahs and Mandalay Bay Group casinos, it has no geographical theme; its byword is luxury. And sumptuous it is. The Main entrance is recessed and deepened with a verdant hilly surrounding that suggests a country setting. The frenetic architectural menudo of Las Vegas is not apparent, though a bizarrely huge satellite dish that could easily pick up signs of extraterrestrial life from the Magellanic Cloud covers the expanse between Wynn and the upscale shopping center across Las Vegas Boulevard.

Inside it is aptly posh, from the painted tiles that lead to the colorful botanical atrium to the elegant keno room, which resembles nothing less than the highly appointed parlor on the Titanic where they served high tea to the Astors and Strausses. Even the bathrooms exude luxury. Conventional wash basins have been replaced by slanted marble slates with golden faucets. I was half-surprised my shit didn't come out in the form of silver turds.

Yet there was one feature of the casino that was so insistently tacky that I couldn't wait to get out of the place. In the interest of full disclosure I must admit I lost fast and majorly at the first table I visited, so was quickly sapped of any enthusiasm. I grumblingly sl,unk my way to the slot machines where, for quarter bets, I could slow the losses to a trickle while in a spate of negative luck. So I'm sitting there, enduring some unfortunate poker hands, when a perky female voice emerges from the machine saying "If you used your red card you could win valuable comps and prizes!" Okay, I thought, but I wasn't just visiting and was too cheap a bettor to get rated in that high-end casino, so I ignored the urging to register for a casino card. By the end of this thought, though, the machine voice chimed up again" "If you used your red card you could win valuable comps and prizes.! Meanwhile I continued to draw lousy hands and watch my credit disappear. Within a short time the voice reiterated, "If you used your red card you could win valuable comps and prizes!"

Now I am not the world's best sport, and when enduring a losing streak at a slot machine have been known to intone under my breath "Come on, gimme a break," or something equally lame and ineffectual. But after the third urging from the disembodied voice I checked my watch and realized that it was coming on every 100 seconds or so. By the fourth repetition I was much less annoyed by my fruitless poker hands than by this persistent nagging. "If you used your red card you could win valuable compos and prizes! "I KNOW!" I said, much too loud for decorum's sake. "I heard you the first time!" This had suddenly become the equivalent of a country drive with kids in the back intoning "Are we there yet" Are we there yet?" except this voice would not shut up under threats of spankings or starvation.

Eventually the combination of bad luck and the disembodied kvetching sent me away from the slot bank, never to return. I was dumbstruck by how infuriating a small feature like that could be; even had I won I'd have been driven bananas. This was like the pop-up ad that you couldn't eject from the computer screen. And it led me to wonder what psychological purpose it served? Every gaming decision made by a casino has specific intentions, usually aimed at increasing gambler participation and thus, profits. From the ambient music to the color of the carpet, each casino feature is planned meticulously. So what was the point of this Casino Spam? Clearly they want you to sign up and get your name on a mailing list, which I understand. But couldn't this request have been made more tactfully and subtly, perhaps with a visual message rather than a phone-machine voice-over? For those not persuaded to apply the only effect would be to drive them screaming from the casino.

I believe there's a subversive caste system at play here; those at the cheap slots unwilling to register are clearly not the desired clientele. I felt myself being so targeted. In that case, Steve, up yours and your swank johns. Next visit I'll be happy to find some crasser playground to deposit my disposable cash.