Matt O’Brien’s Beneath the Neon—Life and Death in the Tunnels of Las Vegas, is one of our more widely acclaimed and best-selling books. It’s been so popular, and has received so much media coverage that the follow-up title, My Week at the Blue Angel, was almost destined to be overshadowed by it. But Blue Angel rightfully garnered its share of praise, from reviewers and readers alike, bringing a wider lens to complementary subject matter, and we’re especially proud of it. That's why today we’ve chosen to feature the "sequel," as opposed to its already-famous progenitor.
When Matt brought us the idea, we were intrigued, but not completely convinced that the Blue Angel should be the anchor story; we should've known and, as it turns out, Matt was well ahead of the curve. For decades the iconic and quirky 10-foot-tall Blue Angel statue, designed by Betty Willis of "Welcome to Fabulous Las Vegas"-sign fame, looked down over East Charleston Boulevard, smiling benignly wand-in-hand, much as the "Welcome" sign continues to greet visitors to the Strip. She was the subject of several national news stories after the book came out, not least as a powerful metaphor when the motel finally closed. Hence, for today’s excerpt, we’ve posted that entire 50-page title story, which relates Matt’s eventful and emotional week living at the shabby motel (now shuttered) in a rough and beat-down part of town.
The other nine stories in this collection aren’t exactly tame, either. One follows the parents of a young woman as they search for clues about their 23-year-old daughter, who disappeared in Las Vegas, for example, while another chronicles the challenges of interviewing Hunter S. Thompson. A third looks at Las Vegas’ mid-2000s’ trend of dismantling trailer parks and displacing their tenants. And one recounts a tour of Clark County’s central sewage plant.
Like Beneath the Neon, My Week at the Blue Angel explores a side of Las Vegas that’s rarely seen, or even known of to many visitors, but what is a very real and eye-opening dimension of the city, nonetheless.
Photographs by Bill Hughes.
