From Cartouches to Casinos: My First Trip to the Luxor
There are certain memories that stick with you, not just for what they were, but for what they meant. Back in high school, many years ago, a classmate of mine, knowing how much I loved history (especially anything related to ancient Egypt), returned from a family trip to Las Vegas with a gift for me. It was a small metal cartouche keychain, with my name spelled out in hieroglyphics. It was unexpected, and I treasured it. I remember being genuinely happy for her, hearing stories of the Luxor Hotel and Casino, with its pyramid shape and sphinx guarding the entrance. And I quietly made a promise to myself: one day, when I visited Las Vegas, I would stay at that hotel.
Since then, I’ve been fortunate enough to visit the real Luxor in Egypt, stand in awe before the actual pyramids of Giza, and return to Las Vegas on two more occasions. But what follows is an early account from my first visit to the Luxor, pulled from the pages of my original travel journal. I’ve kept it intact here to preserve the feelings I had at the time.
Las Vegas! I had seen it several times in the movies, and finally, I was going to have the chance to see it firsthand. I had booked a stay at the Luxor Hotel and Casino. I was ready and excited, though within minutes of boarding the plane, things quickly began failing to meet the most basic of expectations.
You pay a decent amount for any flight on any airline upfront, so it irritates me when companies try to nickel and dime you once they have you captive. 1 checked bag, $15. Chips for a snack, $3. Headphones, $2. 1 ham sandwich, $10. Having chosen to fly another airline… Priceless.
After getting my bags and finding the hotel shuttle, I finally saw it: the Luxor. And two things occurred to me. First, I was going to sleep in a pyramid, which, if this were actually Egypt, would mean I was royalty; on the other hand, it would also mean I was dead. Secondly, nothing says class like having huge decals of Optimus Prime covering your hotel. Much like the movie poster ads stickered over the windows of a bus, the entirety of the glass pyramid was covered in one. Yeah. I’m not sure the ancient Egyptians had a huge “Ramses Papyrus Emporium” stuck on Cheops’ pyramid to make a few extra advertising bucks.
I noticed the Bellagio was sticker-free, and for that matter, so was the Motel 6.
The room was pretty nice. I took a self-guided tour and noticed a small dessert dish that the previous tenant had used as a makeshift ashtray, placed high atop my TV bureau. As I lay on my bed and looked over the hotel guide, I noticed a whiff of B.O. After some thorough sniffing, I found it was coming from the bed’s comforter. I called housekeeping about the funky comforter and took a shower.
As the bathroom steamed up, I discovered a secret message at the top of the glass, stating, “Big E loves me.” That’s reassuring, I thought to myself. It looked like housekeeping hadn’t made it to the bathroom either. Over the next four days and four housekeeping visits, Big E would continue to love me, and the ashtray dessert dish remained my companion. So their housekeeping staff was clearly not very observant, or perhaps they were very short, given that both the secret message and the dish were located up high. Their size would help explain the Oompa Loompa-sized bottle of water and a newspaper I was given each day, which, upon checkout, was $61.95—listed as a convenience fee. Oddly, I didn’t find it very convenient.
So inevitably in Las Vegas, if you’re not a gambler or a connoisseur of hookers, you will find yourself walking into other hotels and becoming a make-believe hotelier and design critic. I’ve decided that the Vegas hotels can be split into 3 categories:
1. Themed
The Luxor and the Excalibur make an alright attempt at this, while the Paris and Venetian perfect it both inside and out. Although it is impressive at first, after a while, the fake painted sky and façade building fronts become a little too themeparkish. The grounds at Mandalay Bay are a tropical paradise, and if you’re not a guest there, you can pay to use their wave pool and lazy river. It’s $20 for women and $50 for men. I never did figure out the pricing and they never gave me a clear explanation, though there is a brunette at the east entrance that will let you in for $10 where a tree blocks the camera’s view, and it will make you feel like you are in Ocean’s 11 for the 30 seconds it takes you to do it.
The themed shops at Caesar’s Forum are not to be missed, and the shops at the Aladdin make their best attempt to mimic the Middle East. The Aladdin has been bought and is being turned into the Planet Hollywood Hotel and Casino. (There is a Hooters Casino, so why not?) Although the sandstone shops are being converted, too, which is a shame. Going forward, they will resemble any other mall in America. Essentially, Planet Hollywood is spending millions to make the casino less interesting than it already is.
2. Inspired
There are the really high-end casinos that are inspired by other countries without trying to literally recreate them. Hotelier Steve Wynn does this best with the Bellagio (inspired by Italy’s Lake Como) and the Wynn Las Vegas, which, though unremarkable from the outside, is a hidden gem on the inside. Inspired, it seems, by equal parts Italy, Alice in Wonderland, and Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, but all in a sophisticated, adult, classy way. Having a gelato on the patio at Sugar and Ice in front of the waterfall is a must.
3. Old and Run-Down
This is the faded glory of old Las Vegas. You will know you’re there when you smell tobacco-laced wallpaper and musty beer-soaked carpets, and you start seeing high-stakes players wearing tank tops, as well as mini-skirt-wearing cocktail waitresses in their 60s. Sure, you can get a cheap $1 grey hot dog or a $1 beer, but hey, you can get a $1 beer at the gas station, and the gas station will be slightly less depressing.
And Then There Was KÀ
But no trip to Las Vegas would be complete without a show, and I had one in mind from the start: KÀ by Cirque du Soleil. Performed in a custom-built theater at the MGM Grand, KÀ was unlike anything I had ever seen, or have seen since. The theater itself feels more like a high-tech temple to spectacle than a stage. There are no set pieces in the traditional sense. Instead, the stage itself floats, rotates, tilts vertically, and even disappears completely, transforming the space into a shifting canvas where gravity seems optional.
At the heart of KÀ is an epic tale of imperial twins separated by war, but let’s be honest: the story is just scaffolding for what is, in every sense, an overwhelming sensory experience. Explosions. Martial arts. Acrobats flying overhead. Entire armies battling on a vertical wall. It is a perfect blend of artistry and engineering. And while I’ve since gone on to see three other Cirque shows, not one has even approached the scale and grandeur of KÀ. It remains, to this day, the most impressive theatrical experience I’ve ever laid eyes on.
Closing: From Cartouches to Compass Points
Now, years later, I look back on that trip with great affection. It was imperfect in all the best ways, messy, funny, filled with spectacle and misadventure. Since then, I’ve traded casino pyramids for the real thing. I’ve explored ancient temples, stood in the shadows of actual obelisks, and even traced the footsteps of historical figures I once only read about.
But I’ll never forget that cartouche keychain—a small, unexpected token that hinted at a life of exploration before I even realized it myself. A gift from someone who saw me for who I was. I hope everyone has the chance to be gifted their own “cartouche.” That first spark of recognition, which may just lead you exactly where you’re meant to go.
