Stardust Now Just a Memory

Friday, March 16, 2007

Page 11

AT THE SIDEBAR (Column)

Stardust Now Just a Memory

By J’AMY PACHECO

Another one bites the dust.

Those words ran through my mind as I watched a video clip of the landmark — or former landmark, I should say — Stardust Hotel being imploded this week.

I knew the Las Vegas icon was going down. But I didn’t know its destruction had been scheduled for this week, nor did I know that it would make me as sad as it did.

Two years ago, I’d have been pleased to have been the one asked to push the handle on the plunger that converted the Stardust into a pile of rubble. In the summer of 2005, I attended a five-day convention there and received service so substandard that I not only filled this space with my complaints, but I left Las Vegas vowing that I would vote in favor of any California gaming initiative that came up just to be spiteful — even though I detest the idea of casinos in my Golden State.

My first stay at the Stardust was that bad. It started when a bellman opened the back of our vehicle, took one look at our four person, five days worth of baggage and remarked, “Geez, you people didn’t leave anything at home, did you?”

It peaked with us waiting more than three hours to check in and ultimately being given rooms that had not even been cleaned. It culminated in me finally losing my temper when a waitress refused to bring our party silverware with which to eat our dinner, then yelled at my husband for taking silverware from an unoccupied table nearby.

It nearly killed me to have to pay for the hotel stay. You can, therefore, imagine my reaction when I learned the convention had been scheduled in the same hotel for the summer of 2006.

That time, my family and I went into it expecting the worst. We anticipated dirty rooms, abysmal service, rude staff, and the need to provide our own eating utensils.

Our expectations could not have been more off. We ended up not getting to Las Vegas until the middle of the night, and the staff seemed genuinely pleased to see us. When we mentioned the difference in service to the front desk clerk helping us, she went out of her way to make sure we were taken care of.

We had booked a suite, but still couldn’t believe the room we were given. My little girl immediately broadcast her desire to take a bath in the Jacuzzi tub, and wondered who she could call at midnight from the telephone next to the toilet.

We kept all three layers of drapes on the enormous windows open all night, and I went to bed looking at the bright, blinking Stardust sign. I fell asleep wondering who had slept in my room in the four-plus decades the hotel had been open, and what conversations had taken place within its walls.

The whole visit was wonderful. The staff was not only kind and helpful, but most of them were feeling nostalgic and sad about the hotel’s impending demise. Many of those still working there last summer were old timers who had not yet moved on to new jobs, and many of them became downright weepy when we talked about the hotel’s coming closure.

The only problem we had during our visit occurred when we were in a ballroom filled with people and merchandise-covered tables and the lights went out. Since the room had no windows, and no emergency lighting came on, the event could have been frightening. I was grateful I had been holding my daughter’s hand at the time, because in the pitch dark, I never would have been able to quickly find her.

But the blackout was brief, and it gave us something else to talk about with our tablemates at dinner that night.

My daughter fell in love with the Stardust that visit. We explored every inch of it that we could. We walked all around it, inside and out, and took as many pictures as possible. We spent a great deal of time gazing at the historical photos that adorned the walls – pictures of entertainers and dignitaries who had called the Stardust Resort “home” for at least one night of their lives.

By the time we checked out, all of us felt sad that it would be our last visit to the Stardust. We bought commemorative pins and cards; we kept the room keys adorned with reproductions of vintage photos. We held out hope that somebody would change their mind, and the Stardust would remain standing.

That didn’t happen, and it tore at my heart to see the old place turned to rubble. But I guess if it had to go, in a blaze of fireworks wasn’t all that bad of a way to go out.

Now it’s nothing but memories, and dust.

Stardust, I hope.