Las Vegas is the city of temptation - the main one being to get out of the place ASAP.
Not much good has happened on our sourjourn to Sin City. I am not going to bother detailing all the lows and lowlife we have experienced, needless to say blonde girls get whistled at alot, if you don't tip the right amount there is the unnerving feeling you might end up the next corpse in CSI:Vegas and my two little munchkins now I think realise they are not in Kansas anymore (if you get my drift) ...
But hey - there has been an upside. Last night we went to a show at the MGM Grand. David Copperfield.
The venue was the Hollywood Theatre - all red and black with booths and tables and waitresses in waistcoats bringing you drinks. All very Wayne Newton (on a quick side note, there are two words that have lost their meaning in the English language - `Gourmet' and `Deluxe'. I noticed this three or four years back when at a garage sale somehwere near Canberra I found a red plastic skipping rope that was labelled `Deluxe'. At the Hollywood Theatre last night under the heading `Gourmet Menu' were freshly made popcorn and peanut butter M&Ms. They cost $6 a pop - but I digress).
Copperfield was magnificent - slick, theatrical and self-depricating. There was not one trick/illusion in the show that we can possibly fathom how he did it.
He made a green 1948 Lincoln Continental convertible appear on stage from under a rolled up parachute and one minute we were watching him walk through a kingsize rotating fan down on the stage, when next instant, he popped up two tables infront of us. This magic was `deluxe' AND `gourmet' all rolled up into one!
There were also moments where he would perform amazing, small illusions - such as making a man in the audience's tie sing or a napkin dance then, in a puff of smoke, turn into a red rose. We were too stunned to clap at most of this. Briliant work.
Just remembered another live performer we stumbled upon two days ago who is worth a mention - David Garibaldi. He is a contemporay-urban- rock- n- roll painter. Basically, he paints portraits (such as the below) in 7 minutes. And dear god, what a show! David flicks on a ghetto blaster then just lets loose -leaping, rapping, gesticulating, paint flying everywhere. He uses brushes and his hands, smearing and splattering the black canvas until this glorious image of Hendrix, or Elvis or even Mickey Mouse suddenly reveals itself. I spoke to his manager after the show about getting him down to Oz and on the Grand Final Footy Show infront of 20, 000 folk at the Rod Laver arena. He would go off ... deluxe.
