I dropped by to visit someone in the Palazzo this weekend, and took my camera with me.
Of course, as always happens, I had the camera shoved away for the best photo op.
When we got on the elevator, the display system above the elevator controls inexplicably crashed and rebooted. It went into BIOS, and we were guessing as to what kind of OS the thing would go into. My money was on Linux, BSD or a custom Unix variant.
Imagine my surprise when 10 seconds later it displayed the “Windows XP” boot screen on the elevator as it was hoisting us skyward.
I was certain that we were all as good as dead. I believe I vocalized as much as I ruthlessly expressed my horror about the elevators being run on XP for the 30 second ride up.
None of the other passengers seemed to know what in the hell I was ranting about. They just looked like they couldn’t wait for me to get off.
XP? Are you shitting me with concrete toilet paper?
It is apparent that the Palazzo is in desperate need of an IT staff. Anyone with a modicum of technical ability, please forward your resume’ to the Palazzo post-haste.
I’m assuming that the elevators themselves aren’t run on XP, just the gee whiz display. Still … do you have any idea how disconcerting it is to see the display above the buttons blue-screen as soon as the elevator doors close? Especially two days after the Paris elevator incident.
I’m assuming that Harrah’s still uses DOS.
Anyway, other than that, The Palazzo still has some of the best standard rooms on The Strip, IMHO.
Since I live within spitting distance of the Palazzo, I don’t go up to the rooms terribly often. This was only my second time up to a room since it was opened in December.
The view from this one was better than my first visit where the room faced East with a beautiful view of crack alley.
I got some good shots of the Palazzo pools, the room, and even the mini-bar. ($5 for a soda, and $9 for trail mix). I made sure not to touch anything since they had the electronic-sensor bars that trigger a room charge if you so much as move something an inch out of place.
Large bed, sitting area, desk, and three plasma TVs … two in the suite, one in the bathroom (to watch porn while taking a dump) … the rooms are certainly in the very top tier of Vegas hotel rooms.
These rooms probably come as a very pleasant surprise to the tourists who inhabit them for the first time.
Sure, it’s no Imperial Palace … but a perfectly acceptable alternative.
If only they would get that elevator situation worked out, it may damn well be perfect.
I thought my Gatorade would class the joint up a bit.
Looking behind the monitor on which I am typing this post, I am looking at THE Hotel above in its current state.
Let me look again ….
Yep, hasn’t changed in the three minutes since I took the picture.
I have seen this for about a week or two, and actually thought something was amiss back then, but didn’t obsess over it. I just assumed that the elevators simply weren’t there and it was all in my head because that is what THE Hotel always looked like.
For some reason, it nagged me again this morning, though.
So in order to convince myself that I was, indeed, just seeing things so I could move on and be done with it, I decided to search for an older photo.
Sure enough, I found one.
I took this one back in April.
As you can clearly see, there is a some kind of hole in the side of THE Hotel. It’s fairly subtle, but it’s there.
I know that the Foundation Room was closed this weekend for renovations, so it would appear that they are doing some kind of renovations on THE Hotel as well.
I’m just glad to vindicate my intuition and verify that I was not seeing things all this time.
Sunday afternoon I hung out in a Palazzo suite (pictures to follow in another post), then took off down The Strip.
It was 110-ish degrees, so I decided to rehydrate in the Venetian for a bit.
Mentally I am still a child, so I always ride the gee-whiz conveyor belts into the property instead of just walking into the bottom entrance like an adult.
It’s like an amusement ride without the amusement … but at least it’s a ride. And who doesn’t love anything that prevents you from having to move your feet and burn a calorie???
Bin Laden, that’s who!
Well, sir, I love America, and I take my pledge to become a cholesterol laden, diabetic fat ass very seriously. It’s the American way.
So I got on the lard-mover and a gaggle of ladies in front of me started talking about Nicolas Cage.
One lady regaled her friend with a tale about how she wrote down Nicolas Cage’s social security number, ending the story with “I may end up in jail, ha ha ha”.
Yeah, ha, ha, fucking ha. That’s hilarious.
How did she get it?
She had a friend that worked at a Volkswagen dealership. The dealership also sold Bentleys.
Apparently Nick (he and I are on a first-name basis so I can call him “Nick” but you can’t) got behind on his Bentley payments, and it went to collections.
The lady’s friend happened to work in the collections’ department of said dealership.
What luck!
If you are going to abuse someone’s personal information, you want to have someone working in “collections”. You know, the fine folks with the moral authority to call you a deadbeat while they proceed to break every law in the book themselves.
So she asked the friend for Nick’s Social Security number because “she wanted to have it”.
And the friend complied and gave it to her. And hey, why not? Everyone does it.
And the “Credit Bureaus” absolutely love this shit. Why do you think they are hawking all of these “Credit Score Protection” schemes for a fat price?
The more fraud that occurs, the more lemmings will buy the thing.
Fraud = money.
They know that the FTC won’t do a damn thing about enforcing accuracy laws. There are lobbyists on The Hill right now making damn sure that nobody touches the “Credit Bureau” extortion scheme which has replaced the breaking of fingers as the shakedown method of choice.
Feel safer?
Me too.
I could actually start a business sending out fake invoices to people with the text “Pay within 30 days or this debt will be reported to a Credit Agency.”
Whether they owe it or not, if the amount was low enough, a good percentage of people would simply pay it because “it takes less time than disputing it”. They are scared shitless that something might hamper their ability to accumulate more debt, and will do anything not to get a dreaded black mark on “their” credit file … which is actually not “theirs” at all … but merely a bunch of unverified information sold by a publicly traded corporation to increase profits for themselves.
If it was “your” file, you would get paid for the information in it. But it’s not “your” file. It is Experian’s file. Or TRW’s, or whatever the latest name the extortion racket goes under. That’s why they get paid for it and not you.
Hell, in many cases, you have to pay them to see “your” file.
And their “file” can be complete and utter fiction. They get paid the same amount whether it contains accurate information or not, so really, what is the motivation to correct errors?
Sure, they tell you that the file is “yours” because you are a moron and will believe most anything. We’re a nation of morons. The economy is wholly dependent upon the stupidity of the masses.
This is why I try to never use my social security number for anything.
I had to give the utility companies a deposit for phone, gas, and electric because I refused to give them my Social Security Number.
All of my acquaintances, and even the clerks at the companies, give me dirty looks and no doubt whisper shit about me wearing a tinfoil hat, but fuck ‘em. I ain’t drinking the Kool Aid.
If the uppity Bentley dealer doesn’t give a shit about the law, what are the chances that the surly lady making minimum wage at Nevada Power gives a damn about it?
Vegas is a great town, because it’s a microcosm of everything that is right and wrong with the country.
I hear disturbing and odd stories and tales on a nearly daily basis, but I rarely get them on tape.
I had to move the camera around a bit because the lady was starting to get paranoid that I might be taping her.
Irony.
Just because you are paranoid, doesn’t mean people aren’t out to get you.
Because I had to keep panning, I got some wind noise and the conversation faded in and out, but you kind of get the gist.
Take it for what it’s worth.
Anyway, I was out and about most of the weekend, but I especially enjoyed kicking back in the Palazzo suite overlooking the pool.
I’ll try to get those photos up later today or tomorrow.
I had a good time meeting everyone at “RexFest #1″.
About a dozen people are nursing hangovers right now and/or are sleep deprived, so here’s to a speedy recovery.
Oh hell, it’s the weekend … I can’t leave those who couldn’t make it with one lousy video.
So I’ll make it two lousy videos.
We also poured a 40oz of Old English over the side and yelled “This one’s for the homies who ain’t here!” (not really, but it’s the thought that counts)
Like I said, I took the small camera, so the video quality is lacking.
Also, the music isn’t mine. That was the DJ’s choice.
Another reason I don’t go to nightclubs.
I’m no critic, but I could just imagine four Germans breakdancing to this stuff somewhere in Stuttgart that very night.
I don’t know what the genre is, but someone informed me that it was “douchebag music”.
I’ll take them at their word.
My dancing on the pole was far less offensive than the DJ.
