$669.66: My vacation budget. How far will it travel? With any luck, maybe more than 2,000 miles.
The Washington Post had challenged three travel writers to divide $2,009 and come up with a trip in the frugal new year. The two other writers went to Orlando, Fla., and the spa town of Berkeley Springs, W.Va.
Where does my money go? To Vegas. But in a good way, not a baby-needs-a-new-pair-of-Manolos way. For $484.17, I nab a nonstop, round-trip flight from Reagan National to Vegas, with two nights at the MGM Grand, the Old Hollywood-themed casino resort on the southern end of the Strip. I save at least $65 by booking this Orbitz package, which leaves me with more money to see Vegas my way (nature and shows before slots and debt). $185.49 left.
I reach Vegas with $181.59 after paying rush-hour Metro fare to National Airport. Outside the Vegas airport, I stand wistfully next to a man with a limp pompadour who orders a limo for his group. I slink away like a street urchin and ask about the bus. At $1.25, public transportation is cheap, but I am warned about its frequent stops. Instead, I opt for a shared-ride shuttle, which costs $12 round-trip and drops passengers off at their resorts’ doorstep. $169.59 left.
After tossing my bags into my 18th-floor room (obstructed views), I head to the bus stop. My destination is Springs Preserve, an environmental center a few miles northeast of the Strip. While standing around for the No. 203, I find a $4 coupon for the preserve in a visitors booklet. After about 20 minutes, the bus arrives, and I hand over a buck-twenty-five. $168.34 left.
On the bus, a local offers me a valuable piece of unsolicited advice: Each ride costs $1.25 (no free transfers – boo, hiss), but a full-day pass costs only $2.50. I drop another $1.25 into the collection box. $167.09 left.
I am losing more time than money with this bus-capade. For the second leg of this journey (I have to make a connection), I stand in the wrong direction for the right bus number. Cold from the desert chill, I buy a coffee and a roll from Starbucks for $1.98. “The bus is coming at 3:07,” shouts an employee as I trundle to the correct stop. It is now 2:45. I wonder if taxis cruise these parts. $165.11 left.
I almost kiss the first staff member I see at the 180-acre Springs Preserve, a serene slice of nature amid retail blight. First, I am so happy to have finally arrived. Second, the admission is usually $18.95, but thanks to a holiday special, the rate drops to $8 after a certain hour. I am told to hang for five minutes. This time, I wait with pleasure.
The facility relies on themed hiking trails, an 8-acre botanical garden and a variety of indoor and outdoor exhibits to teach visitors about the Las Vegas Valley. I start my tour at the Origen Experience, a learning center that resembles a video arcade imagined by Al Gore. I play a computer game called “You Don’t Know Dewey,” in which an animated droplet quizzes me on water-related topics. After guessing wrong on such questions as “True or false: On Sept. 3, 1970, a hailstone the size of a watermelon fell in Kansas?” (False. It was the size of a cantaloupe. Jeez, Dewey.), I realize how ill-acquainted I was with Dewey.
In the outside exhibits, I’m able to fill my cute-animal quota: a gray fox curled up like a kitten and two cottontails standing on hind legs, ears alert and white tails twitching.
I swing by the gift shop and browse recycled items transformed into enviro-chic wearables: a tasteful bracelet made of a silver fork and a pearl, a tote constructed of old billboard panels, a little black bag made from tires. Upstairs at the Wolfgang Puck cafe, the menu leans toward gourmet comfort foods, such as black truffle turkey pot pie. I’m tempted to settle down with a bowl of butternut squash soup, but I set off for the bus stop. $157.11 left.
I try, I swear I do. I walk up and down the darkening street and cannot find the proper bus stop. I can see the blindingly bright lights of the Strip (who couldn’t?), but the distance is too far for this pair of feet. Then I spot a cab idling in a driveway and hop in. The fare is $20, but I savor every click of the meter. $137.11 left.
My body is screaming for an $80 white ginger lily sugar rub or a $70 aromatic hot oil scalp massage at the MGM Grand spa, but instead I downgrade my desires to a $10 gym pass. Runner-up prize: a granola bar, an apple and a bottle of water, available to all fitness center guests. I squirrel away the granola bar for leaner times. $127.11 left.
With my package, I received a $25 food credit, applicable to the majority of MGM’s esteemed restaurants. The discount is not valid at either of Joel Robuchon’s eateries or Emeril Lagasse’s New Orleans Fish House, but I can still sop up the vittles at Michael Mina’s Nobhill or Seablue, Tom Colicchio’s Craftsteak or Wolfgang Puck’s Bar and Grill. When the dinner bell rings, however, I’m craving Japanese food and steer toward Shibuya. The menu is a fanciful read of sushi, sake, teppanyaki, Wagyu beef and other specialties, but my eye falls on the cold tofu plate at the “market price.” M/P for tofu? The waiter explains how the chef flew to Japan to sample different types of tofu, settling on this creamy variety. Hence, $22 for an ice cream scoop of bean curd. (I pair the tofu with a quartet of seaweed salads, and for good karma, I add a $6.50 tip. My total bill comes to $19.21.)
And for dessert, a cup of Haagen-Dazs mango sorbet for an overpriced $6.41. But I bow to the sweet tooth. $101.49 left.
Tix4Tonight, a discount ticket outlet on the Strip, posts its day’s offerings at 9:30 a.m. At that hour, a small crowd already has converged around the displays scrolling the shows and reduced prices: “Jersey Boys” for $116, Cirque du Soleil’s “KA” for $122.30, “Mamma Mia!” for $41.25, Gregory Popovich’s Comedy Pet Theater for $17.50. I join the line outside, where we swap show critiques, dinner recommendations and grumblings about the wait. Tickets go on sale at 10; 12 minutes later, an employee announces that “Blue Man Group” and “Phantom of the Opera” are sold out.
After doing the math and weighing my nutritional needs, I have to rejigger my wish list: 1. David Copperfield 2. “Ice,” an acrobatic show performed by Russian skaters 3. “Stomp Out Loud,” a drum-fueled spectacle. At $64.45, Copperfield is the most expensive, but he’s a classic. I hand over my credit card, plus a $2 coupon I found online. $39.04 left.
Excitingly, my budget grows by 5 cents and my meal ticket is punched at the Riviera Hotel and Casino, where anyone who signs up for its casino club receives a free buffet and a slot-machine card worth anything from $1 to $1,000. The lunch buffet, which normally goes for $12.99, is a surfeit of greasy food from around the world and America’s strip malls. After eating enough for two meals (and leaving a $2 tip), I head to the casino floor. No surprise, my card contains only $1. But that dollar can grow into $20, $50, $300. Or it can drop to zero. Wisely, I know when to walk away – at the card’s last nickel. $37.09 left.
Siegfried and Roy’s famous white tigers are retired and spending their post-career lounging at the Mirage hotel’s Secret Garden, an outdoor space replete with draping greenery and piped-in jungle noises. The $15 fee is steep, but you get two wildlife areas for the price of one. At the Dolphin Habitat, six dolphins swim, spin and flash their smiles in multiple pools. $22.09 left.
Before the Copperfield show at the MGM Grand, I squeeze in one free activity. At the CBS Television City, inside the MGM Grand, viewers play TV critic by screening a show, then letting loose with comments and opinions allegedly reviewed by studio suits; I suffer through the sitcom “Rules of Engagement.” If it gets canceled, you can thank me.
Showtime, rubes. The legendary illusionist appears (yes, like magic) onstage straddling a motorcycle, then harangues the crowd for not laughing loudly enough at his jokes. Despite his churlishness, the man is magical. The most mind-boggling trick involves a set of numbers proffered by random folks that later match the figures on the license plates of his grandfather’s cars. As if that isn’t enough, his grandfather’s dream vehicle, an aquamarine convertible, appears on a large platform under which a guest squats. Magic, indeed.
After the show, I grab a meal at the 24-hour Studio Cafe: oatmeal with brown sugar and raisins ($6.89, with tip). With my budget sliding toward single digits, I want to be sure that I have at least $5 to gamble. $15.20 left.
The Enchanted Unicorn slot machine takes all but $1.05 of my initial bet.
Jackpot! I hit two acorns, a maiden and a unicorn. I don’t really understand what that means, but who cares: I’ve won $54.90. Back up to $66.15!
I’m tempted to treat myself to some shopping at the MGM or a flashy limo ride to the airport. Instead, I tuck the cash away in my wallet and earmark it for my next vacation.
