Parading the streets of Las Vegas

The sun beats down upon the ground, concrete becoming heated and sun-baked but not hot enough to melt the rubber soles of a shoe whilst strolling along if one were to make their way from anywhere in this area. As the camera pulls back slowly, away from the gray of the floor, we start to see other things in this area, such as buildings, plant life. Slowly panning up, we see the famous “Welcome to Fabulous Las Vegas” sign standing tall and proud in the midst of this scenery. A large crowd of onlookers, whether they be residents, employees in the hotels and casinos or tourists, all stand along the Strip stretching all the way from Mandalay Bay to the Stratosphere, talking and whispering amongst themselves wondering aloud what’s going on and whether there really will be a parade going on today. Trees have various red, white and blue banners hanging between them on both sides of the road, a strip of grass with the trees standing tall and proud amongst the green blades with the next road mostly full of police vehicles and men in black suits and ties moving up and down, trying to keep people at a safe distance. There are people all along the sidewalks the length of the Strip, even totally filling the footbridges at the Flamingo Road intersection. The streets are lined by crowds of people from all over the city of Las Vegas, men, women and children standing huddled together, whispers going all around with the atmosphere fully charged, electricity flowing as a hushed silence falls upon every single human being, not a single person seated.

Cheers from the far end as people crane their necks, straining to see what’s happening while waving banners and flags. A steady pounding beat and a haunting vocal rings throughout the air silently in the distance, slowly growing ever closer along with the sound of motors, a guitar riff ringing through the ears of the onlookers, wriggling into their minds and infecting them with its melodious hook. The cheers get louder as a large black float appears in view slowly trundling down the Arrowhead Highway, nothing more than a large flat stage on wheels with AC/DC themselves performing live, Brian Johnson prowling the front and singing while lead guitarist Angus Young duck walks then falls to the stage, lying on his side and running in circles while still playing. Rhythm guitarist Malcolm Young and bass player Cliff Williams stand on the left and right of the stage playing and giving their backing vocals while drummer Phil Rudd keeps the beat going behind the drums, large Marshall stacks on their own float behind him allowing the throng to hear as they play “Thunderstruck” live.

"Na na na naa na na naa na na
Na na na naa na na naa na na

THUNDER! (Na na na naa na na naa na na)
THUNDER! (Na na na naa na na naa na na)

I was caught in the middle of a lightning attack (THUNDER!)
I looked round and I knew there was no turning back (THUNDER!)
My mind raced and I thought, 'what could I do?' (THUNDER!)
And I knew there was no help, no help from you (THUNDER!)

Sound of the drums beating in my heart
The thunder of guns tore me apart
You've been.....thunderstruck"

The song continues throughout several more verses and choruses plus the guitar solo from Angus until it gets slowly quieter as they pass, eventually it ends as the strains of “Back In Black” is heard slightly but they’re too far away from this position for it to be anything more than a whisper, the mass gathering cheering and chanting as now another float makes its way past with children wearing sailor outfits stand with silver buckets in their hands, more buckets dotted around while they reach their hands inside, scooping up handfuls of red, white and blue confetti before tossing it out over the people lining the streets, a shower of colored paper raining down. When the buckets are empty, they grab more and continue this assault, some of the crowd trying to catch the confetti, a few managing to catch it while the rest smile and laugh as it falls onto their heads and shoulders, covering them. Once at the end all the buckets would surely find themselves empty but at the moment we’re unable to test this theory as it’s already passed, the multi-colored onslaught continuing as the next float makes an appearance not far behind.

This is full of Las Vegas dancers from one of the casinos, large podiums of varying sizes and colored white with gold stripes along the sides and the rim of each podium top standing tall and proud atop the float while dancers take a place, one to each podium and several on the flat float top. All are wearing flesh colored tights and silver glittery shoes, gold glittering outfits covering their torsos and white feathery head dresses covering their tightly pulled back hair. Women of all colors and nationalities dancing the way they would in a club for millions of paying customers every night of the year, wolf whistles ringing through the crowd from the men and from the lesbian and bisexual ladies in attendance. Typical brass orchestra style music plays as they dance to it, kicking their legs and writhing, the brass replaced by a rendition of Frank Sinatra’s classic “Come Fly With Me”, people in the crowd singing along while the dancers continue to parade around on their podiums as the float drives by.

“I’m caught in a trap
I can't hold out
Because I love ya too much baby"

The delightful tones of former singer/actor/Marine and now dead Elvis Presley singing to “Suspicious Minds” emerges after the big band sound of Sinatra has passed heralding the arrival of yet another float, this time decked out in white and gold, a raised platform in the middle of the float with various Elvis impersonators ranging from the dwarf version to the really fat Elvis era and everything in between all swiveling their hips and miming along, raising their arms and feeling the music as people in the crowd sing along and smile at this spectacle slowly moving before them down the street.

This float goes on by and is followed by another, this time covered in silver and sparkling in the sunlight that beats down upon the road, making the concrete slightly warm as a roaring is heard from the float, a massive cage resting in the middle with big steel bars, unbreakable unless you were to cut through the metal. Occupying the cage is a large white tiger, shade provided from the roof of the cage as the black stripes immediately clash with the white fur, blue eyes staring out as it paces back and forth showing its teeth, razor sharp and ready to bite into any piece of meat offered as food. On top of this cage wearing all white jumpsuits with silver flowing capes stand two men, one with short black hair, the other with short blonde hair. They smile and show perfect teeth as they wave their hands around like royalty, members of the crowd waving back and rejoicing as Siegfried and Roy throw confetti into the crowd, saving their magic for their major shows rather than right here for free and instead basking in the fact that they are a part of a huge parade down by Caesar’s Palace right here in front of residents and tourists, moving just feet away from their home “turf” where their stage shows have entertained for years until 2003 when Roy’s shoulder became tiger food.

The final float appears behind this, more of a driven advertisement than an actual parade float with a white truck driven slowly behind all the others and the back being a long trailer with two giant billboards, one facing each side of the road as onlookers watch and look up at them to see what is on them. A poster very much like a US Presidential election campaign is plastered across both sides with a championship belt image and a very familiar looking man dressed as Uncle Sam displayed for all to see, bringing a few smiles from the people gathered on the Strip.

Behind the float carrying this large banner, a white limosine drives carefully and slowly, the crowd still staring at the billboards with the familiar face plastered all over it, arching their necks to take in every detail. The red, white and blue colors to match the confetti making the image of the person dressed as Uncle Sam on the posters stand out somewhat, a championship belt also visible partially on the top of this massive campaign banner. As it begins to slowly trundle past, they finally notice the limo, black tinted windows not allowing any sight of whoever may be inside, the sunroof closed also with people leaning forwards to try and somehow catch sight of the person or persons occupying the vehicle.

The limo eventually crawls to a complete halt a little further down the road near a larger gathering of people who are standing in front of a massive stage area and podium built on top of an empty street, security dessed in all black suits and ties with headpieces and dark shades stand around alongside police officers and even one or two army personnel for extra protection. The crowds lining the streets hurry to this area, filling it even more and trying to gain sight of the stage, everybody waiting with baited breath as the limo driver exits his position and walks around to the back, reaching out for the silver handle on the door and tugging gently on it, a gentle click and pop as it opens up, cameras being held up to both film or take pictures of it, hoping to be the first to take some sort of collector's item or visual to be kept in their possession for all of time. A leg appears from inside the vehicle wearing flip flops, the second leg emerging followed by the female they belong to, her smile beaming and full of pride, her eyes dazzling in the flashbulb lights.

"Karla! Karla, look this way please!"

"Karla!"

She smiles and shows her perfect teeth, wearing black pinstripe pants and a red sleeveless top. Her breasts are literally bulging against the material while confined behind the clothing which reaches up to her neck while a black trilby sits on top of her head with hair hanging down across one shoulder. Her wrists, neck and ears hold expensive jewellery, the likes of which were possibly bought by somebody who cares deeply about her and gives in to her demands while a pair of black Prada sunglasses cover her eyes. The photographers keep shouting direction and taking photographs of her as she smiles and spins around slowly, raising her arms above her head, pushing the hair at the back of her head upwards slightly, every shiny strand making her look like the perfect spokeswoman for a haircare product, tilting the glasses down her nose, taking them off completely, all the while the photographers snapping away.

Listening to the direction given from the paparazzi and still smiling, she releases her hair and allows it to swing back down across her shoulders, raising her left hand and extending her index finger, gently wagging it side to side in refusal at their demands and allowing them only pictures and poses granted on her own terms, making them snap shots of her gorgeous figure and moving it however she likes, taking orders from nobody but herself.

It’s then at that moment that a pair of black, well-polished boots emerge from inside the limo, sliding along to face the still smiling and self-proclaimed Queen of the ring, fresh, clean and very white tight pants hanging above them, becoming taut as the feet rest firmly on the ground and then loose again as a man with shoulder length dark hair climbs out of the vehicle, standing upright and looking around. His pants hug his thighs and cling to his crotch, showing the bulge which Karla so obviously loves so much, her eyes lighting up as she glances down at it. Above that and around his perfect waist is a black leather belt, barely seen below the black shirt which he has on his torso buttoned up apart from the two at the top, leaving them undone and parted naturally to show a little of his chest. A thick silver chain hangs around his neck and against his chest, a dazzling white jacket to match the pants completing the ensemble while a pair of dark Gucci sunglasses adds the finishing touch to the outfit, Karla replacing her own sunglasses over her eyes.

Even in the daylight, the cameras give off multiple and bright lights, flashing every millisecond as they snap away at the main focus of the parade, both of whom are on the red carpet leading from the door of the limo they emerged from, secretly thanking the heavens that they have elected to have sunglasses permanently attached to their faces, especially Dazz, who places a hand on his hip for several pictures, dangling one end of the leather strap in his grip along the floor, a cocky smirk forming at one side of his mouth as he suddenly and abruptly punches the air with his right hand, extending his arm totally straight with the NLCW American championship hanging from his palm, fingers gripping the sides of the leather as he stands still in the position for a few moments, allowing some great images for tomorrow’s early editions. As he’s about to lower his arm, Karla steps towards him, standing at his side and leaning against his body, her arm wrapped around him, the left limb on her hip while his left hand rests around her waist. She slyly grabs at his ass which raises a smile, making him lower his right arm and squeeze hers with the left hand, sliding his fingertips all over the soft flesh as the two of them giggle slightly under their breath and sigh at the experience of the other’s touch. As photographers continue to take constant pictures, the pair lean forwards, holding each other tightly and planting a deep and passionate kiss on each other’s lips.

Dazz and Karla break off their kiss and smile at each other, him removing her sunglasses and looking into her big brown eyes as she returns the favor and gazes into the shades covering his, seemingly able to look right through them into his very soul. His left hand slides across her backside as his right hand moves off her hip, the leather strap of the championship belt in his hand slowly caressing her calf as with one flick of the forearm, the title swings up and onto his left shoulder, his hand holding it in place while he extends his right hand towards Karla’s, the glamorous couple entwining their forearms and interlocking their fingers as they stride up the red carpet towards the steps which lead to the large stage. With every step they take towards it, flashbulbs pop and engulf them in bright white light, every moment captured on film for whichever websites, magazines and newspapers will print them while television cameras continue to film enough footage to air on media sections of websites and also on television. Once they arrive at the steps, Dazz raises Karla’s hand high into the air, twirling her around on the spot before she begins to slowly ascend, her man following close behind still holding onto her fingers until they reach the top, Karla turning as does Dazz while they wrap an arm around each other and pose for more photographs in this position before she walks towards a soft, red velvet cushioned chair towards the back of the stage but slightly off center to allow the cameras to see every inch of her as she sits with her legs crossed, one foot dangling in the air with her thigh helping to keep her calf steady, hands across her flat and toned stomach.

She looks up and smiles as Dazz walks across the stage towards the podium, standing behind the white block of wood, a black microphone jutting out in the middle while silver microphones sit either side of it, giving a grand total of five to help capture every single word and syllable said. He stands looking out at the fans, the other spectators and the media all stood before him, ready to hang on his every word and admiring the specimen before them all. After surveying the many thousands of faces all gathered in this one spot, he lets the American title slip off his left shoulder, clutching it with his right hand and suddenly thrusting his fist into the air, taking the belt with it as he grips one end of the leather strap, letting the thing dangle in front of him for all to see, standing in this pose for minutes at a time to allow a good look at him, at the championship and to give some excellent photo opportunities, pictures that will surely grace the front cover of every single magazine and help sell them out wherever it is printed all over the globe. His shades help protect him from not only the sunlight bearing down upon everybody but also from the glare of the paparazzi flashbulbs while also giving him an air of mystery and coolness only exuberated by the absolute best.

After giving them their greatest glance at greatness thus far today, women melting under both the heat of the sun and at the presence of this sexy beast and feeling moist with sweat and other bodily fluids, he finally drops the championship from the raised position, striding towards Karla and handing it to her as she holds it with pride on her lap, slowly caressing it, a piece of tape covering where Isaac’s name stands to deny anybody from knowing who the title actually belongs to. Dazz walks back to the podium as the hot chick holding the title checks out his perfect, taut ass in the tight white pants. Finally making it back to the podium, he places his palms on the stand holding the microphones, out of view from the cameras as he leans on it to get closer to the microphones, this expert at handling them due to his other career as a talented, much lauded, critically acclaimed, inspirational and influential rock guitarist and vocalist. Taking a breath and looking around at the faces below him one more time, he begins to speak.

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