Gone, but not forgotten... Hello, Our dad was a funny guy. He had his quirks and as we got older, they started to show up at odd times. When we were teens, our dad took our mom to Las Vegas for a weekend of fun and merriment, as much as parents can do away from the kids. Ha! Our mom loved it because she did not have to cook for a week and the restaurants were always outstanding. Most included entertainment from the famous folks at different locations. Our dad loved card games was good at it for some reason. He always had a surprise for my wife and me when we tagged along at their invitation. (We drove, they flew) But, we assumed when they returned, they told us about the hotel that was their favorite, The Riviera. It had its own casino, great dinner entertainment center and the folks there knew our dad as they were almost tri yearly visitors. It was handy to play the whole floor and then when tired, head upstairs to go to sleep. Our mom said that the view to the rest of Las Vegas was always out of their window. It was from the 7th floor of the whole complex. Our dad’s friend from Los Angeles offered to get him a room at other resort hotels, but, our dad always asked for the Riviera. After many such trips, the staff got to know him well. So, he got lots of compensation offers for the dinners and shows from the top performers, like Ann-Margret. He even got an autograph from her… my brother and I were impressed. My wife was surprised, but also impressed that they actually interacted with the entertainers of the time at this location. Being “regulars” has/had its advantages and quirks. The odd thing was, our mom kept telling us that every time they went to Las Vegas, they stayed at the Riviera Resort and Casino. That was a standard for them. He was offered the "Penthouse" top row of rooms, but the really odd thing was, the room was always on the city view side and on the 7th floor in the middle of the corridor. So, the resort always made the reservation for almost the exact same room for each visit, over the years, from 1959-60 to the last one in 1982. The rooms were not near the stairs or elevators. But in the middle of the floor. We asked our mom why? She had no clue as to why, but she enjoyed sitting in a nice chair looking out at the view when they ordered room service. Jnaki Well, come to find out, our dad and his quirks played a huge part of their vacation stay every time they went somewhere. Especially in Las Vegas. The middle of the floor was obvious. No noise from the ice maker on every floor, usually located at the ends of the hallways. Then, also, the elevators opening and closing all through the night was not as convenient when it was late hours and people seemed to always walk around like zombies late into the nights. “Las Vegas never sleeps” rings true… The city facing view was also obvious. If one is going to stay in an entertainment city, the night light and daylight view might as well be the best versus the barren desert hills and open space all on the other side of the resort structure. So, the views always played an important part. Finally, we found out that the oddest thing was the 7th floor. Why 7th floor and not the top floor with the highest view all around? Our dad had the quirky feeling of the local fire engines with the hook and ladder versions only went to the 7th floor. So, he always wanted a secure emergency exit plan already n place. No climbing up or down the stairways, but as a last resort of being trapped on a floor, the 7th had a great view, but emergency escape routes were almost guaranteed with the 7th floor ladder always available. Yes, who could see a couple of old folks climbing down a shaky tall ladder in the middle of the night… So, for all of the times staying at the Riviera Hotel and Resort Complex. It was the 7th floor, center room facing the city for their vacation stays. Security at its finest of quirks… Yes, when my wife and I were at the resort with our dad and mom, we were as far away from their room, as possible, but found out the center rooms were also the quietest of all rooms. YRMV
The Jalopy Journal
