A. W.
Yelp
The Flamingo Wildlife Habitat at the Flamingo Hotel and Casino is classified by Yelp as a Zoo. The real zoo is in the initial approach, the nearly unnavigable casino chaos between you and it. A better descriptor would be Sanity Sanctum, or Reality Refuge, or Panic Pacifier, or simply Breath of Fresh Air (accented by the subtlest, yet perceptible scent of sun-dried shrimp or rainbow fish food flakes).
During a recent visit, as I strolled through the crowded casino looking for the calm of promised magenta pause, a rhythmically jarring alarm rang out, WWWwwwoooooOOOOP! WWWwwwoooooOOOOP!, followed by a fembot explaining in the vaguest of terms- "One of our alarms has been activated. Our team is working to determine the cause. Please don't panic. The problem will be resolved shortly." Layer this atop the already surreal apocalyptic Vegas sparkle show, and my anxiety level was approaching unmanageable heights. With the robot ringing in my ears and the limits of my ability to cope closing in, I spotted the flamingo foyer entrance.
As soon as you pass through the glass, an emotional weight is lifted. Even as the muffled siren continued to penetrate the jungled enclosure, the rippling of water massaged my mind. The handful of gentle magenta birds are stunning with their piercing yellow eyes and downward-hooking beaks, more electric than the pale pink Miami Vice intro memory flashing in my mind. Ringed teal ducks splashed and bathed, oblivious to weary-eyed onlookers. Giant black koi rose to the surface of dark pools, blowing slow-motion kisses into the tender summer breeze. The "sacred" ibis was nowhere in sight as I'm guessing it must have found its way to the Luxor pyramid where it felt more at home?
Every Vegas hotel/casino should have its own Flamingo Wildlife Habitat equivalent, a fee-free, artificially edenic space from which to momentarily exit the rat race and recalibrate one's path moving forward, a place where it's realistically possible to heed the dystopian broadcast. "Don't panic."