Virgins Locked And Loaded

Nevada & Utah

There are only two reasons to go to Las Vegas: to get to Zion National Park and to eat the best (according to Antony Bourdain and me) Northern Thai food in America at Lotus of Siam.

Having three days to kill before heading to Zion and not wanting to stay in Las Vegas longer than one incredible dinner - I recommend  the Crispy Duck Panang  - we checked into a fancy RV resort in a town between the edge of Death Valley and Las Vegas.  

The town of Pahrump (a-pum-pum?) whose reason for existing escapes me, turns out to have attracted a surprising number of infamous people, including brothel owner Dennis Hof, self styled the Trump of Pahrump.  Heidi Fleiss, the Hollywood Madam whose little black book caused quite the stir a while ago, moved here, and Michael Jackson at one time had a pad in Pahrump.  Why?  No idea.  There is nothing here - it’s hot, it’s flat, it’s not pretty at all, it’s quite literally between rocks and a hard place.  Perhaps the town motto should be: Pahrump - You Can Hide Here!  Or: Pahrump - Space For Disgrace.

Our resort - surrounded by a whole lot of nothing.

And in case you’re wondering, ‘fancy RV resort’ is not an oxymoron.  It’s a real thing.  This place had a concierge to take you to your spot and help you back in so you look like a superhero to your spouse.  It had several swimming pools, beautifully landscaped grounds with teams of gardeners everywhere - they even raked the sand in the dog playground - a putting green, an indoor movie theatre, restaurant, concert hall and even a bowling alley. Maybe this was Jackson’s former Pahrump pad?  They also had a list of rules and regulations two pages long as well as some dedicated lifers - sorry, long term residents - who were very helpful about reminding you of them should you forget.  And all for the price of $40 per night.  Pahrump - Cheaper Than Las Vegas!

Our Zion RV park did not come with a concierge so we were back to bickering spouse mode during the parking process.  It was convenient though, a few miles from the entrance in the tiny town of Virgin, situated on the banks of the now mellow Virgin River which had long ago carved the mighty canyons we’d come to see.  

I do have to wonder at the Mormon pioneers who settled here and named this town. They could have called it Virgin River but no, they just went for it. I expect it would be hard growing up in this town; harder than, say, Drain in Oregon?  Or Boring, again in Oregon (sister cities Dull in Scotland, and Bland in Australia)?  Hard to say, but imagine being asked where you’re from, and you decide.

Anyway, it turns out that Virgins (as surely they must be called) are anything but shy or embarrassed about their town.  In fact they are extraordinarily proud of it for one reason:  in 2000 they passed a law making it illegal to NOT own a gun.  Seriously.  Every household in Virgin must own and maintain at least one gun.

I think I’d rather be a Bore than a Virgin.