With a mere button press, Las Vegas literally tunneled its way into history at the Las Vegas Convention Center by triggering a potential “Kitty Hawk-type moment.”
Well, Wright on, Vegas!
“This community should take pride in what we’re doing here today,” said Steve Hill, CEO of the Las Vegas Convention and Visitors Authority (LVCVA, which produces Las Vegas Newswire) on Nov. 15. That’s when his finger-push on the start button helped kick The Boring Company’s giant drill into action in a 44-foot-wide pit dwelling 42 feet below the surface to begin tunneling out the convention center’s new $52.5 million underground people-mover transportation system.
And it’s when Hill declared his hope that history will eventually record it as a moment in the same realm as when Orville and Wilbur pioneered modern aviation.
PAR-SIGHTED VISION: PGA Golf Management Program at UNLV aims at all of the sport’s hospitality potential
A sage knows that age isn’t just a state of mind. It’s a state of play. Assuming the sage swings a mean five-iron — whatever their age.
“Now you’re going to throw a little ball into that trashcan over there,” says the college student pretending to be a teacher, trying to teach other college students pretending to be 7-year-olds.
MEET THE BEETLEJUICE: Inventive director Tim Burton’s sculptures join displays at Neon Museum celebrating his love affair with Vegas
Welcome home, our spiritual son.
Scissorhands, Beetlejuice, Batman and Frankenweenie all dwell in your head. So naturally, Vegas beats in your heart.
You are us. We are you. Now we are one.
“It’s such an artistic city in a weird way, there are so many possibilities” says famed movie director Tim Burton. “I’ve been coming here my whole life and so artistically, it’s very important to me.”
Enter the intersection of city/celebrity synchronicity in Burton’s Lost Vegas, paying homage to “a place where everyday rules seem not to apply.”
In this new sculptural/digital art installation at the Neon Museum Oct. 15 through Feb. 15, 2020, the darkly comic, Burbank-reared fright-meister mines his surreal sensibilities and marries them to the iconic images of the Las Vegas — his “second home” — that he has adored while visiting here since his toddlerhood.
“I used to sneak into the old place where the signs were, trespassing, because it was beautiful,” he says. “It was like these old dinosaur bones. It was peaceful and beautiful and electric and alive all at the same time.”