Cleaving Las Vegas

I met Mr. Spot in the Las Vegas airport and we trundled off to the MGM Grand. Grand it is! In three days, I never did really learn to navigate the casino, which was the size of a small Eastern European nation. We arrived around noon, got some food, checked into our rooms, and that evening Mr. Spot and I took off for the Luxor to see Blue Man Group. A fun show, but rather like Chinese food - forgotten an hour later. Their best bits involved audience participation. 

On Tuesday the Darling Husband and I did the town. He had not been to Vegas in nine years, so he hadn't seen just about every hotel on the strip. We visited New York New York and a couple of others, did the Star Trek Experience at the Hilton, and got in one performance of the Bellagio fountain, which for the price is definitely the best show in town. I could stand there and watch water-under-pressure-with-music all day. Then it was back to the hotel for an early dinner with ncgurrl, Permaswooned, artquest, and nlpayne and her hubby. 

DH and I took off that evening to see Danny Gans at the Mirage. Now, I love Clay, but this guy is INCREDIBLY talented. He is a singer/impressionist and he puts on a fabulous show. DH was suitably impressed. I opted to call it an early evening while DH took to the craps tables.

The Big Day dawned. I lounged in bed most of the morning, still nursing my cold. We were meeting for lunch at noon; I was a little early to the restaurant and I had learned the day before that there would be a red-carpet arrival, so DH and I quickly went to the area outside the arena entrance to check it out. The red carpet was all laid out and there were already a few people waiting at the barricades. I resolved to return after lunch. As we re-entered the hotel, I heard some young girls squeal; I looked to my right and saw Erik Estrada walking by. The teenies wanted a picture with him; I volunteered to take it, and what the hell, got one of my own. I'm a fangirl for sure now!  Erik was there to promote a new TV show he has coming on in January.  He was extremely nice, I talked to him like an ordinary person.  A feat which I'm sure I could never manage with Clay.

As we made our way back up the escalators to the level of the arena, I heard very loud music coming from behind the arena doors. I recognized the song, but had to be told by a young man behind me that it was No Doubt rehearsing.  I had No Doubt we'd be able to hear them.  Finally we got back to meet the ProC for lunch, where I learned that the beyotches had all upgraded their tickets the night before! You just can't let these people out of your sight! Three of the girls had bought their tickets thru the MGM Grand, not Ticketmaster, and they got upgrades for free! ncgurrl took the hit and paid for an extra ticket. DH and I stayed with our back-of-the-bus location. We ate at Emeril's, I was underwhelmed and left hungry. Sorry folks, I guess I'm just a plain-food kinda gal, but the company was great. At 1:30 I bid the others adieu to get my spot by the red carpet.

I headed out to the red carpet with my camera and my comfy shoes. There were already quite a few people waiting at the barricades - due to the configuration there was only about fifty feet of frontage for fans - but at this point the gathering was only one or two rows deep. I got a really good spot on a curb that put me six inches above the one row of people in front of me, and I was right at the end of the ET interview platform. It turned out all the celebs arrived just to the left of in limos and came immediately up to the platform. 

I stood for ninety minutes before much happened. There were some very young Clay fans in front of me, I talked to them a bit. It amazed me how little they knew about him compared to US. They shmoozed with the security guards about getting Clay over to talk to them and sign autographs. Yeah, THAT'll happen. One of them recognized Pachelli, Clay's bodyguard before Jerome, and sucked up to him. As far as I could tell, he was just working general security there.

A lady my age took a spot to my left, waving her Billboard magazine with Sting on the cover - he was her man. She kept coming and going from her spot, having a ciggie, visiting the bathroom, having her place saved. Everyone was very civil. Two young college men behind me were there to see nobody in particular, but they were enamored of Maria Menounos of ET, so I took some pictures of her for them and got their emails. 

 

Pachelli, Clay's former bodyguard.		Maria Menounos of ET.		Lights! Camera! Action!

Slowly the crowd gathered behind us. The security guards tried in vain to keep people from trampling the flower beds; it was wasted breath, the foliage was toast. Around three o'clock the press started gathering along the barricades and the techs put up some lights for the TV interviews. The energy began to build and crowd to buzz. Finally at 3:30 the first limo arrived. The whole crowd to my left started chanting "Clay! Clay! Clay!" Was it him? How could they see? Turns out they couldn't see, they just chanted for Clay every time a new limo pulled up! *whisper* It's not just us.  

The first limo was NOT Clay but Gwen Stefani and No Doubt. I only know who they were because I was told. They all had strange clothes and stranger hair. The crowd cheered a bit but remained calm. I took a picture and wondered why, then deleted it.  They were interviewed by ET and strolled down the red carpet for their photo ops and other interviews. There was a long break before the next limo. The "Clay!" chanters began anew. Alas, not Clay again. Some heavy rapper dude and his homeys. He had dreadlocks, sunglasses, a weird hat, and a middle-ages-style necklace that must have weighed ten pounds. There was some disagreement as to who he was, later I would learn he was Little Jon. The crowd response was tepid. 

A champagne-colored limo pulled up. The "Clay! Clay!" chant started again. Then an authentic crowd shriek to my right told me that this time, it really could be Clay. The crowd went wild. There was pushing and shoving for position. I still couldn't see who it was.  I got my camera up over the heads in front of me and barely maintained my balance on the curb as ol' spiky-head walked into view. 

He was fifteen feet away from me. He was luminous, gorgeous, someone you couldn't help noticing even if he wasn't famous. He towered over most of the people around him. He was wearing his glasses and a black jacket, I couldn't really see his clothes yet because he was surrounded by security and groupies and techies and hangers-on. No Vanessa. Faye was a little behind him wearing a black dress with a jacket and a sparkly design on the front. I think he had quite a bit of make-up on, he was very pale and not a freckle to be seen. His hair was nicely styled in the front but fairly flat in the back and on the sides. 

Eventually I got a good look at Clay's jacket - sort of tux-ish, a matte-finish material, but with a big honkin' zipper up the front. Very different but fabulously stylish. Plain black t-shirt underneath. Wearing his favorite pointy-toed boots. Gaaah, those FEET!  As he waited for his turn on the platform, a curly-headed man in a black hat and jacket came up and shmoozed him.

Clay enters the red carpet with Faye.

Kathy Griffin had arrived just in front of him (were they together in that limo?) and stepped up onto the stage for her interview with Maria, while Clay hung back below in the crowd. For a few minutes, he walked away from us toward the paparazzi at the barricades.  Various people in the crowd were yelling his name.  A particularly loud "CLAY!" was heard to my right and he turned back around and waved to the crowd.

Clay waves to the crowd...					...and shmoozes.