Story and images by Neville Cole

It’s 4:23am. I’m sitting in a booth at the Golden Nugget Buffet having waffles and chicken with Karaoke Elvis. Hung disappeared about an hour ago and is no doubt still celebrating his big win at the roulette table.

This probably goes without saying; but traveling with Hung is one surprise after another. Who else but Hung would get into a conversation with a stranger on a plane from Sydney to LA and end up buying his car. Of course, he didn’t break that news to me until we were loading up to hit the road.

“Mate, we’re not going on an iconic road trip across the good ol’ US of A in a VW Jetta,” he said with a Cheshire grin. “We’re taking Priscilla! What d’reckon, eh?” With that he dashed across the street and leaped into the passenger seat of a pretty much mint condition pink ‘59 Cadillac Convertible. Is she a brilliant yank tank road trip beast, or what? Picked her up for next to nothing from some bloke in LA! And, best of all, if we take good care of her I’ve already got a name of a bloke who will buy her off us when we are done. Viva Las Vegas! Viva! Viva! Las Vegas!

Hung certainly has a nose for a deal, I will give him that…and what he lacks in the detail department, he more than makes up for in big dreaming. The detail part I might have look into a bit more carefully in the future. You see, Hung made our Vegas travel plans and, as I discovered less than 150 miles from our original destination, he got us a screaming deal on a room at the Golden Nugget Casino. Only problem was the room he booked for us is at the Golden Nugget in Laughlin not Vegas.

Laughlin is the old, plain, three-time divorced, redneck sister city to Vegas. It has most of the gambling of Vegas with none of the glitz, fancy hotels and restaurants, entertainment, or charm of Sin City. It does have the swift flowing Colorado River nearby and, on the plus side, the sprawling, dusty open desert is never more than a five minute walk from anywhere in town. We would’ve had changed our reservation; but apparently until we can recoup some of the cost of our “investment” in Priscilla we will be living on the cheap and if you want to travel on the cheap, Laughlin is your kind of town.

We pulled into the Golden Nugget about 5pm welcomed by a glittering 20-foot neon cowboy twirling his lasso in the twilight. On second glance we noticed he was actually trying to get us to come to the Pioneer next door but we had already traveled a long way and the Golden Nugget was where we planned to stay come hell or high water.

“I reckon we oughta grab a meal before we start the serious gambling, don’t you?” Hung said, clearly itching to lay down some money. I agreed; but somewhere between registration and our room we ended up stopping at the bar to play video poker and drain a few stubbies.

“So, as long as I keep playing this game, even at a nickel a shot…I can get my drinks for free?” Hung asked Tony the bartender incredulously.

“That’s the deal, bub,” Tony replied. “Same all over town only at them other bars you don’t get Tony-class service like you do here.”

“That’s a great deal! All I have to do is win enough to stay about even and I drink for free! Bewdy!” Hung was able to win enough to stay “about even” for an hour and a half and seven or eight beers; but finally he tossed Tony a generous tip, we gathered up our luggage and headed to our room.

We made dinner reservations at the acclaimed Prime Rib Room at Don Laughlin’s Riverside Casino. This is a buffet style restaurant where a full prime rib dinner with all the trimmings can be had for $11.99. There was a line of 40 or so impatient retirees when we arrived at 7:30 (even retirees eat late when they are gambling apparently) so the hostess invited us to wait at Don’s Hideaway until a table was ready.

Don’s Hideaway was apparently designed to look like the interior of a double-wide trailer outfitted with a bar and 50s era leatherette lounge chairs. It was dark and cheap looking (which is hard to pull off) and the only other customers were a group of suspicious looking Mafia types in the corner who were clearly discussing business in muffled tones. Hung was still on a quest to find a palatable American brew so he made his way to the bar and purchased two cans of Riverside Brew which is, as he was informed, made in Minnesota especially for Don Laughlin’s Riverside Casino. It was the most wretched tasting swill I have ever attempted to down and that is saying something. Right about then I made the mistake of suggesting we get two vodka red bulls as a pick-me-up.

During dinner I stopped counting after Hung’s fourth vodka red bull. He ordered two with our salad plate, one with our vegetable and gravy surprise, and at least one more when the prime rib truck eventually made its way to our table.

“So this place is all you can eat?” Hung asked Larry the Meat Carver with a trail of cheese sauce dripping from his chin. Hung’s chin, that is, not Larry’s…that would be disgusting.

“The salad, vegetables, potatoes, the cheese sauce, the gravy, the soft serve ice-cream and the dessert are all you can eat, sir” Larry replied. “If you want more prime rib that’s another $4.”

“What a deal!” Hung bellowed. “Is this a deal, or what? You wouldn’t get a deal like this in Vegas!” The prime rib, by the way, tasted every bit as good as any $4 steak you are ever likely to try anywhere. But, as a bonus, we were in and out of the Prime Rib Room in just over an hour; staggering slightly through the door with leaden bellies but all hopped up on red bull and ready to gamble.

By the time we made it back to the Golden Nugget, Hung could not be stopped. He swirled around the floor like a tasmanian devil on crack. At every table, he introduced the two of us as Raul and Dr. Gonzo. He mentioned often that we were investigative journalists from Australia and each time punctuated the comment with “the lucky country, mate!” He also quickly lost quite a wad of cash. About 11pm I made the suggestion we wander over to the karaoke lounge play a little video poker and watch the show. Hung would have none of it. “I’ll catch you there later, Nifty!” he gargled happily. I’m heading over to give the roulette table a spin.”

The karaoke lounge at the Golden Nugget will never be mistaken for Harrah’s in Vegas; but it has something very few karaoke lounges anywhere can boast: Elvis. Elvis started off with some of his best known hits: Love Me Tender, Heartbreak Hotel, Now Or Never…but, as no one else seemed too interested in grabbing the microphone from him, we all also got the pleasure of hearing Elvis’s own renditions of Down on the Corner, Heard It Through The Grapevine, White Wedding, In The Air Tonight and perhaps most remarkable of all…(You Make Me Feel Like) A Natural Man. Elvis’s version didn’t sound anything like either the Bobby Womack or the Rod Stewart renditions of Aretha’s classic; but nonetheless it had a honest energy that somehow worked.

During a break in the action Elvis came to occupy the chair next to me. “That was a pretty amazing set, Elvis.” I noted as he sunk his ever expanding bulk down and gave the barkeep his gimme-the-usual sign.

“Thank you, thank you very much,” he answered right on cue.

“I can’t wait to see what you got next.”

“You a singer, man?” Elvis asked me with a little curl of his lip.

“I’ve sung a tune or two; but I’m sitting here with the King.”

“It’s Laughlin,” Elvis smiled. “Everyone gets to sing here. You oughta pick a song, man. You gotta make the scene.”

“I’ll sing,” I said, “but only if you join me.”

“I’d be glad to,” Elvis said taking a sip from his rum and cherry coke. “But let’s let some of these other good folk have a go first. Sound good to you.”

“Sound good? I will be a life highlight. I am honored.”

“I’ll be back. You pick us out a good song.” Elvis gave me a pat on the shoulder and went off to convince a few other people to get up and perform at his shindig. I was still flipping through the song book when a triumphant Hung danced over waving a fistful of dollars.

“Red 19, mate! I hit it big on Red 19. I told you I was lucky, didn’t I? We both are I tell you! We’re two lucky bastards from the lucky country! What are you doing here? You should be off winning some money too!”

“I’m trying to pick a duet for me and Elvis to sing,” I slurred, the alcohol having finally taken affect.”

“Shit, mate! I want in on that! I’ll pick a song for us, no worries.” Hung ripped the song book from my grasp and churned through it like a man possessed.

I have to hand it to Elvis, he was a good sport and totally up for anything Hung had in mind; but when the first big chord hit and Hung belted out: “First I was afraid / I was petrified / kept thinking I could never live / without you by my side…” Well, I thought for sure Elvis would split then and there; but no! He jumped right in and took over right on cue at: “and so you’re back / from outer space /I just walked in to find you here / with that sad look upon your face…” So I figured what the hell and when I came my turn I was more than ready for the challenge. “Weren’t you the one who tried to hurt me with goodbye?” I cried with gusto, “you think I’d crumble? / you think I’d lay down and die? / Oh no, not I / I will survive!

Both Elvis and I stumbled along as best we could the rest of the song attempting to follow Hung’s elaborate choreography (I swear this guy must have watched Priscilla Queen of the Desert a thousand times!); but the end result was a performance for the ages – certainly nothing the karaoke lounge at the Golden Nugget Casino had ever witnessed before. Hung and I became instant celebrities and were each called upon to perform solos; which even though they did not compare to “I Will Survive” were warmly received.

“Did you tell Elvis about Priscilla?” Hung asked later back at the bar.

“No,” I totally forgot,” I replied.

“Priscilla? What about Priscilla.” Elvis mumbled.

“She’s our pink 59 Caddy that we are cruising in, totally cherry.” Hung slapped Elvis so hard on the back that he almost toppled out of his chair. “You want to come see it? We oughta go for a cruise through town!”

Elvis was clearly tempted. “Well, we are wrapping up here for the night… Tell you what, as long as you let me drive, I’m in.”

“We sure as hell aren’t driving?” Hung laughed. “We’re both pissed as newts!”

“I don’t know what that means,” Elvis smiled. “But both of you are too drunk to drive. Besides, I know exactly where we should go!”

1959 Cadillac Priscilla

There is nothing quite like the thrill of being chauffeured around by the King while listening to his greatest hits as we cruise through the glittering neon of a wild gambling town and down along dappled sheen of the Colorado river, out under a desert moon into the stark emptiness of the Nevadan wilderness in a pink 59 Cadillac convertible; but, when warm glow of Laughlin was gone, and Elvis pulled into an abandoned rest stop down by the river my thoughts began to darken. “I know you boys like to sing,” Elvis grinned, “but are you up for some real fun?”

“Sure!” said Hung eagerly and without a hint of suspicion. “What’s the plan?”

Elvis opened his briefcase and pulled out a gleaming Colt 45.

“I’m thinking, a little target shooting in the moonlight.”

“Ace!” said Hung as he clamored out of the back seat. “Yeehaw! Let’s go cowboy!”

“So wait,” I asked. “We’re too drunk to drive but not too drunk to shoot?”

“Damn son,” Elvis laughed. “Who ever heard of being too drunk to shoot?” Elvis extracted a paper target from his briefcase, pinned it up on a cactus and for the next hour or so we each took turns blasting holes in it, or at least attempting to… I once made contact with a no littering sign but nothing I actually shot at seemed to get hit. Hung wasn’t fussed about hitting anything either, he was enjoying the sound of the gunfire way too much to care about things like that. He was all ooohs and aahhs like he was watching a fireworks display in his mind. Elvis on the other hand was dead center of the target with almost every shot. “I like to come out here after a gig,” Elvis almost whispered at one point. “Helps me relax. Thanks for joining me, gentlemen.” He looked up at us and I am pretty sure I saw a tear in his eye; but our buzz almost gone, so we all agreed to make our way back to town and keep gambling.

Elvis drove us to the brand new Harrah’s Laughlin because, as he said, that’s where the best late night action could be found. He was right. It was by now 2am but the joint was jumping. “You fellas play craps? Elvis asked making a beeline for the craps table. We both admitted we had no idea how the game worked, but Elvis said it really didn’t matter. “Just follow my lead,” he said. “Bet what I bet when I bet and you’ll do just fine.”

We followed Elvis every step of the way and I somehow our funds did grow even though I had no idea how or why. In fact, when it was my turn to toss the dice we started to do very well indeed. Hung was, for the third or fourth time in one evening, having the time of his life; especially when he was again able to confirm drinks were without a doubt absolutely free to anyone playing craps. “Ok, buddy,” Elvis said suddenly grabbing my arm after a long streak of good rolling. “This is it! Here we go. We need a seven right now and we can all go home happy.”

As soon as he spoke I gripped the dice a little more tightly. Until now, I hadn’t had a goal in mind. I was just rolling. Now the number seven was burning my brain. Elvis was counting on me. Hung…well, actually Hung didn’t seem to be paying much attention; but I knew another big win would cap off his evening and maybe soon we could actually head back to our room and get some sleep. I suddenly remembered that in all the movies the guy throwing the dice always had some woman blow on his dice for good luck so with all the savoir faire I could muster I turned to the tall pretty blonde to my right.

“Would you blow on these for good luck?” I asked in my best James Bond.

“My pleasure,” she replied licking her lips in anticipation.

The moment was so perfect. There I stood with my dice freshly blown and the whole excited table looking on. Strangers were moving in closerm anxious to join the throng and be a part of history. Elvis and Hung were brimming with confidence; but I was frozen with fear. Then that wonderful blond leaned forward, squeezed my palm and whispered in my ear: “Just let it roll.”

And so I did…and everything went into slow motion. I could clearly see each face on both dies as they bounced and spun. First a 2, then a 5, then 4, 6, 1 in quick succession…both little red cubes turning and flipping then bouncing almost simultaneously off the back wall. I could see everyone was cheering but I couldn’t hear a thing. Then I saw the first die stop moments before the first…a five! Then the second die started to take its last turn and I could see the two about to fall! Then it bobbled slightly just once and fell to a dead stop…on six.

“Eleven,” the croupier called and even he seemed disappointed.

“I’m sorry,” the blonde said. “I guess I’m not good luck for you after all.” And with that she made a quick turn and was gone.

“That was great, mate!” Hung said with genuine enthusiasm. “What a run. Cheer up, Nifty! We’re all still ahead! Who wants to try their hand at poker?”

“I think I’ll head back to the Golden Nugget, Hung.” I said quietly. “I feel like packing it in for the night.”

“I’ll drive you back,” Elvis said gathering his chips. “Let’s cash these in a go get some breakfast.

“Suit yourself, boys. I’m going to hang here for a while. Did either of you see where that pretty blonde went off to? Hold on! I think I see her! See ya, fellas! Don’t wait up for me.” And with that, the great vortex of energy known as Hung leapt once more into the fray.

“One seven,” I muttered on the way back through town. “I couldn’t I roll just one more bloody seven.”

“Forget about it, pardner,” Elvis said warmly. Then he turned and looked me straight in the eye. “In this life if you can manage to stay just about even…well, you’re already a winner. And look at us tonight! We came out ahead…maybe not by a lot…but ahead. And in Laughlin, Nevada if you can say that…well, you my friend are a big winner. Now, buck up and let’s go get us some waffles and chicken.”

NEXT UP: SIDEWAYS TO NAPA