Helicopter
On a walk with Dave Weekly and friends, I was strolling down the Strip toward the New York New York, when suddenly we all caught sight of a helicopter, engine running, blades spinning, etc., just about 200 feet back from the Strip, in the middle of what looked like a helicopter. A sign said "HELICOPTER TOURS".
"Let's ride the helicopter!" said David. (If he didn't say so, that's what he thought, anyway.) Most of us, except for Riana (who had just recently flown on a helicopter) and I (who am a fraidy cat) immediately jumped at the opportunity and purchased their first-ever helicopter tickets. It took a lot of cajoling to get me to come along. "Will you regret it tomorrow?" David asked. Well, no, I didn't think so.
The helicopter ride turned out to be absolutely fantastic. It was much smoother and gentler than an airplane, and, unlike an airplane, it could hover. I hardly noticed when we took off, and we got a beautiful, memorable night-time tour of the Strip from above. (More than the Strip, actually; we saw Fremont Street, too.) We passed within about 150 feet of the Stratosphere and saw the people standing on top of it. We flew over famous hotels, and banked sharply so that the helicopter's great rounded glass window was the only thing between us and the Strip 1,000 feet below. (That was the only point at which I felt a twinge of fear. Helicopters can bank through very steep angles.)
All of a sudden, the ride was over; the pilot (who said he'd been flying helicopters for 29 years, and didn't learn in the military) set us down without even a bump. The whole ride had been about 15 minutes.
