Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
overhead light rail system that was warped into an ugly U by the force of the
shock waves that hit it at 500 miles per hour. You'll also drive past derelict test
houses once filled with dummies, and through the famous Frenchman Flats.
As the guides are former workers, you'll learn a lot about what it was like to
live and work here in this remote, removed spot which at its peak housed 10,000
workers (all of whom were single, as families weren't allowed). About 4,000 still
work here today, monitoring the ground water and animals at the site, and aiding
in Homeland Security training sessions. There's an actual airplane onsite, dealing
with the radiological side of a terrorist attack (other areas are set up for training
with chemicals and other hazardous materials).
Note:
If you decide to visit the test site for these once-monthly tours, know
that it will eat up an entire day. You leave before 8am and may not return to Vegas
until sometime after 4pm. Visitors are advised to bring lunch with them, wear
sturdy shoes, and wear sunscreen.
Celebrating a happier history, the
Neon Boneyard
(
%
702/387-NEON; www.
neonmuseum.org; groups of 10 or more can tour for
$
5 per person, for less than
that amount there's a set
$
50 fee; Tues-Fri appointments only; cash only)
is where
old neon signs go not to die, but to wait in a kind of purgatory until a museum
can be created to house them. Visiting is an otherworldly experience, like step-
ping into the carnival scene from Disney's
Pinocchio
when all of the flashing lights
had been extinguished, and the boys turned to donkeys. It has the same kind of
glamorous junkyard look, the same artful chaos.
Over 100 signs from the 1940s through today are dumped in this outdoor lot,
unceremoniously surrounded by a chain-link fence. Many were iconic symbols in
their day. There's the giant slipper covered with hundreds of bulbs that once shone
so brightly it kept Howard Hughes awake at night. To shut it off, he bought the
Silver Slipper hotel it crowned, as well as the Desert Inn where he was staying, set-
ting off a buying spree that would reshape Vegas. Nearby is an original Caesars
Palace sign, the regal “Coin King” from the Coin Palace casino that once sat on
Fremont street, and a large Aladdin's Lamp (from the '70s). Along with these
famous signs are some prosaic ones as well, as interesting in their own way. There's
a Kentucky Fried Chicken bucket in its original design, McDonald's Golden
Arches, and a fabulously rococo sign for a Chinese restaurant. Each has its own
artistry, hand welded, hand cut, and hand painted. “This collection represents a
lot of the artistic history as well as the history of Vegas,” our guide told us. “Vegas
was known as an oasis of light in the middle of the desert, and it's these very lights
that did that.” Today, most of the signage is from LED screens featuring more
natural-looking, muted colors, but I for one prefer the blatant primary colors of
the old neon. You'll see the difference when you visit (or when you tour the Neon
Museum on Fremont Street; see p. 142).
Because there's very little funding for the upkeep of the signs, and even less for
security, I can't tell you where this “boneyard” is, but when you call for a tour,
you'll get the address.
