To Valet or Not to Valet … in Las Vegas, that is often the question.
Aria Valet and Cab Stand Area
Bellagio Valet and Cab Stand Area
Today, the age-old debate once again reared its ugly head as a friend and I took his car to a local casino. This particular friend was one of “those guys” who derives a large amount of pleasure from owning nice cars, and who would no sooner park these cars himself than he would light his own balls on fire.
Ironically, despite his three year age limit for pricey automobiles, this same guy has a dogshit single-core PC from 2005 on which he recently spent $40 to upgrade the RAM. To him, this was a better investment than spending a whopping $600 to replace the entire machine with something that didn’t use a hamster running on a wheel as a power source.
On second thought, maybe he doesn’t need a new computer. Even though his is a slow, ancient, dirt-cheap machine — it still multi-tasks, has two USB ports and RUNS FLASH. One might even say that it … “just works”.
I digress.
As we approached the casino, I directed my friend to the self-park entrance, to which he quipped “Self-park? Does this look like f**king Walmart to you?”
It was obvious that I had insulted his pride, and we thus spent the next several minutes debating why I felt that he was a pretentious prick, and why he felt that I was a limp-dicked cheapskate.
It was not the first time I have had this argument, nor will it be the last. My guess is that there are others of you out there who, like myself, find yourselves having to fend off the “cheap” accusations time and again with regards to your parking preferences, but such is the price of having intellectually inferior douchebags for friends.
At this point, I am however, somewhat tired of explaining my position on the matter time and again. For this reason, I will take a few moments to outline my position on the subject, and let the chips fall where they may.
The fact of the matter is … I am a pathological self-parker.
The reason for this has nothing to do with money at all. Frankly, I find it patently comical that anyone would consider valet parking a “luxury”. It costs, what, $2-$5 on average?
Using the valet is no more financially elite than super-sizing your meal at McDonald’s, and those who consider it a status-symbol are delusional. Not “the iPad is magical” delusional, but moderately batshit nonetheless.
“Golly gee willikers, Rex, why would anyone who can afford to valet … not valet?”
Well, since you asked like Milhouse from the Simpsons (yes, this is what you sound like in my head), I will go ahead and give you the courtesy of a detailed explanation.
There is not one, single reason that I eschew the valet, but rather several reasons why I overwhelmingly prefer parking the car myself:
1) I Don’t Like It When People Touch My Seat (you will never hear these words come out of Steve Wynn’s mouth)
Valet parking attendants always seem to be little pint-sized motherf**kers.
I suppose this makes sense. When patrons drive up in their Mini Coopers, you can’t have an attendant the size of Shaquille O’Neal ripping the steering wheel off with his knees.
Unfortunately, this is exactly what happens when the valets bring my own car back. I have almost ripped my own steering wheel off with my own knees. The little bastards pull the seat up so they can reach the pedals to park the car, but rarely do they return the seat to its proper position. I have actually been in situations where I could not get back into my own car. There have indeed been times when I have had to call one of the other little valet runts to get in the car and move the seat back for me so that I could get in, and it is always kind of awkward.
It takes me a long time to get the driver’s seat just the way I want it. When someone screws this up, I inevitably spend the entire drive home getting my seat back into position. I do not find this to be convenient.
2) I Am Impatient
This is especially true when I want to leave a place.
While the valet saves time when you drop the car off, this is not always the case when you want to leave. I have been in situations in which the valet stand was under-staffed, and once in Los Angeles, they literally lost my car. They eventually found it 45 minutes later in an auxiliary lot, but this would not have happened if I had parked it myself.
After a show or during an event, the valet line can be as long as the cab stand line. I don’t see the point of this.
If you really want to be a hotshot in front of the ladies, stand in the limo line and hire a stretch to take you home. Standing around waiting for your own car is kind of lame.
3) Privacy
Giving someone the keys to my car is like giving them the keys to my filing cabinet. For the sake of convenience, I leave all kinds of things in my car, and while I am enjoying a meal, a show, or playing cards, I don’t want to sit around and worry that I might have left something sensitive in the glove compartment or door compartment.
“Come on, Rex, valets don’t care about your personal crap.”
Maybe, but most people leave their license and registration in the car, and Nevada is the #1 state in the U.S. for identity theft. Part of the reason for this ranking is that people let their guard down in this town, and give all manner of employees access to their personal effects. After all, it’s Vegas, Baby!
Even if you don’t leave important information in the car, what you do leave can still be embarrassing.
“Hey, Bedhead Dave, look what I found under the seat, it turns out that Vegas Rex dude uses XXSmall condoms, I always suspected as much.”
I’d rather keep that little fact between myself and your sister.
4) It’s My Car
Even though it’s a piece of junk, it’s still mine. Some guy making minimum wage does not care about my car as much as I do. He does not care if he opens my door into a support beam, takes a speed bump too fast, or throws the car in park while it is still rolling forward.
When the transmission needs to be replaced five weeks later, I’ll likely never make the connection to the valet driver, and even if I do … I’ll never be able to prove it.
I’m paranoid when I leave my car with a mechanic. I assume he’s going to screw it up, and he usually does. This being the case, why would I trust a valet?
The fewer people that gain root access to my car, the better.
5) I Don’t Mind Walking
Get off your lazy, fat, lard ass and walk from the self-park to the casino. It’s not going to kill you. I promise. The smell in the freight elevator (I call every parking garage elevator a “freight elevator”) might cause you to hurl, especially if you have eaten recently, but you might actually lose half a pound by self parking in Vegas instead of using the valet.
Perish the thought.
If more people parked their cars farther away from the entrance, maybe, just maybe, the USA wouldn’t be home to the fattest people on the planet.
Thus concludes my confession, and I feel that I have made a compelling argument to support my position.
You know, perhaps I’m missing something. Perhaps I just don’t understand the thrill of screeching into a crotch port, throwing some kid my keys, slipping him a $20 bill, and saying “keep it close” loud enough for everyone to hear.
Maybe it’s fun. Maybe it’s exciting. Maybe it’ll make my pecker hard. Maybe I should take a roll of bills and try it someday.
Or maybe not.
Obviously, there are some select situations in which I will use the valet — such as when the self-park is full, when I am running late, or when my knees are hurting more than usual.
For day-to-day use, however, I’m confident that I will remain a self-parker for the foreseeable future.
See you on the freight elevator.