The Bear's Progress
SkeptoBear's trip to James Randi's Amazing Meeting 2004
Day Six
Las Vegas! No, there is no limit.
Another bright and shiny day, so the team once again set off for Starbucks for muffins, coffee and email. While SkeptoBear cleared out the Nigerian letters, advertisements for comely young lasses who are ready for anything, lottery winnings, offers of cheap pharmaceuticals and even cheaper copies of genuine software, one of his handlers went to the beauty parlour (or "parlor", as the locals would have it) to have her nails refurbished. There was a suggestion that the other handler might like to avail himself of the parlour's offer of something called a "Brazilian wax". Apparently this has something to do with the wearing of thongs, but as he hadn't brought his Australian rubber sandals with him and his feet are not particularly hairy anyway, he decided to pass on the offer. In any case, his foot was too sore to do any more walking than necessary. (Later in the week he was heard to remark that if he had a dollar for every time someone said "Your sore foot makes you limp. Would the Viagra you bought in Tijuana help?" he would have been able to afford, if not a surgeon to fix it, then perhaps a chauffeur to drive him around.)
After breakfast, the search for the tackiest and most tasteless thing in Las Vegas was resumed. It was decided that there was unlikely to be anything classier than the Bellagio fountain, so the formal search for contenders in that category was suspended, although the team's minds were still open as befits good skeptics. On this day, the team set out with information that they hoped would make their quest easier. During the night an envelope had been slipped under SkeptoBear's door. Inside was a single sheet of paper, folded once. On the paper were the words "One word ...", and when he unfolded the paper, inside it said "Caesar's Palace".
On the way to the casino, the group passed some sort of religious shrine in the street. It was rejected as a contender as it was quite small and had an amateurish look about it. They don't give Grammies to buskers.
Getting to Caesar's Palace was not too difficult, despite the hordes of Mexicans in the streets offering the business cards of rather attractive young ladies who were prepared to go to hotel rooms and provide services. The team assumed that this is the way that hotel housekeeping is done in Las Vegas and the reason that hotel accommodation is so cheap is that guests can hire their own girls to come and make the beds and tidy up. One card offered two girls for the price of one, and the team wondered who would need more than one maid, although it might make things go faster if one could be wiping down the shower while the other one made the bed. This was such a good idea that the male member of the team tried to order a six-pack (shower wiper, bed maker, vacuumer, mini-bar restocker and the one who puts the chocolates on the pillows. Plus a spare.) The Mexican with the cards did not seem to understand the concept, but it would always be possible to order three sets of two-for-the-price-of-one.
The first thing they came across at Caesar's Palace was quite encouraging, and might have even fallen into the "classy" category. It was a collection of statues, and SkeptoBear commented on the remarkable similarity between the physiques of the first two statues and those 
of the other members of the team. It was as if they had been the models, although the artists who had made the masterpieces had died centuries ago. There was some discussion about the appropriateness of having statues of Greek goddesses and Jewish kings outside a place called "Caesar's Palace", but this was forgiven as being a Las Vegas thing. When the second entrance to the building was discovered, however, a sense of excitement arose. This was the sort of architecture that even a prominent Sydney radio personality or a recently-widowed wife of a Melbourne gang identity might find to be a bit ostentatious for their new house, but it was but a taste of what lay within. Once through the doors, the team knew that they needed to search no longer.
It was the fountain that did it. A fountain full of fog, with statues of mythological persons, all apparently constructed out of materials so tacky that it could only have 
been a deliberate attempt to create a bad impression. This by itself might not have been enough, because bad taste is not merely bad materials or bad workmanship. Often only the best of both are needed to make a real statement. While the team were looking at the fountain, however, its real worth became apparent as the statues started to move in that jerky fashion of badly done animatronics, the room filled with fog, and one of the statues started to speak. Could it get worse? Yes, it could, as a laser light show started to paint strange designs on the ceiling. Surely, this was the worst that Las Vegas could offer.
It wasn't. Las Vegas can always surprise, and there in the very same building was a display so awful that even the sphinx wranglers at the Luxor must have hidden their faces as they walked past on The Strip. This had everything - huge scale, high quality materials, statues, Corinthian columns, grotesqueness. What more could you ask for? Again, the crew decided that they had found The Grail. 
The search was over. There was no need to go next door to The Mirage. How could Seigfried and Roy's white dolphins compare with this? They couldn't! The group decided to go there anyway, confident that all they would see would be some white tigers and slot machines.
But it wasn't the dolphins, or even the tigers, or even the mermaids which finally caused The Bear to collapse on top of a silver mermaid and whisper "That's it. I can go no further. Each is worse than the last, and I can stand no more". It was the volcano. The volcano at The Mirage. The most hideous, tacky, unprofessional exhibit in anyone's 
imagination. A volcano which looked like it was made out of papier mache, surrounded by plastic palm trees which made children in strollers laugh with polite embarrassment, spouting a sparking eruption which would have been rejected by the makers of a Z-grade sci-fi movie. What was truly amazing was that this horror was owned by the same people who owned the Bellagio fountain. The team decided that there must have been a single budget for building both things, and after a huge overspend on the fountains there was only $19.74 left over for the Mirage. At that price, they were robbed. The search was abandoned. It had become apparent that there probably was no limit to the tastelessness of things in Las Vegas, and with such little time left and so many more casinos to go to it was best to call a halt and minimise any further risk to minds.
With both quests declared finished it was time for some relaxation and shopping.
Someone remarked that it must be five o'clock somewhere, and at the same time all six eyes of the team lighted on the door to Jimmy Buffett's Margaritaville Bar. As they settled at the bar they were immediately recognised as thirsty people in need of relaxation, and the serving lass offered to run a tab for them. The male team member asked if he looked like someone who was likely to drink enough margaritas to cause changes in latitude (or even attitude) and therefore require an account for his drinks bill, and the other team members just smiled to themselves and nodded at the waitress.
Some time later the group went shopping in the adjacent souvenir shop, gathering up the necessary collection of salt shakers, colourful shirts and cocktail preparation paraphernalia. Singing jaunty and happy songs with a Caribbean influence, they headed back to the hotel for dinner. After dinner they went to the bar where they met some people who had arrived for Randi's conference and some more who were leaving from another conference. Despite temptation, it was an early night for all. The real work started tomorrow, when the conference began. The guests would be arriving, the guests were coming through; the open hearted many, the broken hearted few. But that would be another song, another songwriter, and another day.
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