Issue link: https://read.dmtmag.com/i/751464
12 nDecember 2016n www.thunderpress.net THUNDER PRESS the intervening hours, he remembers me and my drink. Sweet Jesus. A real bartender. In a real bar. Here in the heart of the Las Vegas BikeFest Rally Central. I may never leave. Atomic Liquors packs more cul- tural history minutia than anywhere else I've stumbled into in Las Vegas over all the years I've been here to cover this event, and everything I know about the city I learned by fol- lowing this event through its many moves and vicissitudes throughout the last 16 years. It was a tall mountain to climb, making me fall fi nally in love with a town I long detested to my core for its avarice, tackiness, and soul- lessness, but at this year's BikeFest I reached the summit at the Atomic. Check it out: Atomic Liquors was the fi rst licensed package liquor outlet in the City of Las Vegas (remember, folks, the fabled Strip is out of town). As legend has it, and as the National Trust for Historic Preservation sec- onds, this is the establishment renamed Atomic Liquors in 1952 when the bombs started going off out in the desert 60 miles away at the Nevada Test Site. The patrons gathered on the roof to watch the mushroom clouds billow—and get bombed in their own right. And perhaps genetically altered, too, but time would tell. Over the years, the place got a reputation as the go-to dive in Vegas. Far from the Strip, it nonetheless drew the likes of the Rat Pack, Streisand, Eastwood and Hunter S. Thompson. And went on more recently to be the Joe Pesci homicidal setting in the fl ick Casino, a setting used in The Hangover, and the featured joint in a season fi nale episode of Anthony Bourdain's second season of his Parts Unknown TV show. Here in the present, though, it's taken on yet another prominent role— that of being a focal point of LVBF— or more aptly, "ground zero." Outside the Atomic, Fremont Street bustles with bikers; bikers and strollers and locals. LVBF has com- mandeered a full four square city blocks in the so-called Fremont East District, a resurging precinct of the old city long regarded as a perilous and penniless skid row—just like Fremont Street upstream from the district was regarded before the daring creation of the Fremont Street Experience back in the years i mmediately prior to LVBF moving in for its inaugural. That resurgence is due in massive measure to shoes. Seriously. Shoes. Who the hell buys shoes online, you might sensibly ask. And the answer is enough people to elevate the e-tail site Zappos to great heights, and founding entrepreneur Tony Hsieh to billionaire status. And Hsieh saw the potential of a true community in the urban waste- land. Burning Man was purportedly his inspiration for his dream, though to my thinking it was Twitter's insur- gency on San Francisco's Tenderloin district that provided the template. A company community built around his recently relocated corporate headquar- ters, and a fertile ground for a start-up farm with cafes, art, and walkability creating a true community like Las Vegas had never seen. (Zappos was an offi cial sponsor of the event, and thoughtfully proved "Cool Zones" to help attendees beat the heat. And there was some heat, but nothing like in the past. Low 90s with some relief from passing clouds.) LVBF actually made the move to the Fremont East District last year. A bold move, and logistically improb- able, and it suffered some birthing pains. Those pains passed this year, and the match proved heavenly. It took years. It took years to realize the original bold idea of LVBF—a city-within-a-city. A biker destination removed from the horror of the touristy reputation of the Strip, where something as ambitious as what they were proposing wouldn't get swallowed up in an ugly mosh pit of business-as-usual. Though, sadly, it nearly did when the powers of the Fremont Experience raised the ante to the point where it was no longer fi nancially tenable to continue. And so for two years the event hiked two miles south to the Sahara at the north end of the Strip. That relic of a casino is not there anymore, and good rid- dance. What a ruin. And it was four miles from the Cashman Center where the event producers found themselves conducting the lion's share of their activities. An eight-mile round-trip to a barren expanse of pavement and trade-show vapidity. And the only sensible means of getting there was the event's admirably effi cient shuttle service, because this was the last pas- sage you ever wanted to make on foot or two wheels after dark; a desolate and decrepit cityscape best avoided if you had other options. Outside of the Atomic is the huge expanse of this year's LVBF. The whole precinct is technically Rally Central, but that's deceiving. The event is centered initially just inside the security cordon in the remaining Las Vegas Continued from page 1 The Globe of Death greeted arriving attendees at Party Central A novel use of poker chips at the Miss LVBF pageant LVBF Custom Bike Show competitors Ron Pena (left) and Tony Amicarella pose with their entries on Fremont Street in Party Central