The smutters aren't out yet. Neither is most anyone else, but the little snap-crackle-pop hand jive, albeit somewhat rhythmic, is not missed in the least. But I take solace in that rainforests are destroyed every day just so that consumers can quickly peruse their wares before tossing them on the sidewalk. Who needs recycling? And the t-shirts are a nice touch. I haven't seen them for sale in the gift shop of the Flamingo Hotel & Casino.
Gameworks is still here. I figured it was gone. I remember a visit here years ago where I was in some kind of flight simulator game, where I was pretty much upside-down the whole time because I could never get my bearings. Vomiting did not take place, but it definitel was an option.
Carrot Top is even scarier on a huge Jumbotron than on a 27' television. Mathematically speaking, as his image doubles in size, his creepiness grows tenfold. Scary enough to cure the childhood fear of that clown from Poltergeist. Can you imagine if present day Carrot Top got the role of that fucked-up clown that attacked that kid. Bedwetting would start to be considered a hobby, and Freddy Krueger would have his own nightmares.
I'm not sure what fuels Carrot Top's perfect storm of steroid use, combined with a dual addiction for cosmetic products and cosmetic surgery. Maybe that's what it takes to be called “Comedian of the Year” by the casino that employs you.
There's a some sort of sculpture near the Mandarin Oriental that looks like the Squidoo logo, unless it's a statue of one of those Sentinels from The Matrix.
The yellow shirt and white shirt security teams are out on bike at 6:30 am. The red shirts must have already gotten killed by then.
Next run I need to go over that mini Brooklyn Bridge in front of New York New York for the Vegas artificial version of running the New York marathon.
That was all my observations, at least all the ones I can remember.