While you were sleeping,
getting fat on low summer swings to Ocean City, on lazy day drives to
Baltimore, and on slow, lethargic getaways spent half comatose and bloated
at Stone Harbor, Atlantic City was the unexpected sleeping beauty,
dreaming quietly for the past 10 years, going to sleep a mess in rags with
a public image stigma and waking up with golden locks and long lashes,
eyes wide open to a new dawn. If the old Atlantic City seemed to glitter
without gold, the town now sparkles regardless. Welcome to “America’s
Favorite Playground.” No, I mean America’s NEW Favorite Playground.
 A
little history: The closest distance between Philadelphia and the great
big sea, Atlantic City was founded in 1854 as a resort town. Railroad
tracks were put in place between the two locations, and almost overnight
Atlantic City became a popular vacation spot of international renown,
featuring the world’s first boardwalk in 1870, followed by the Steel Pier
(“the world’s premier amusement pier”) in 1898. Atlantic City was also the
birthplace of saltwater taffy, picture postcards, and even the word
“airport” (first used to describe Atlantic City’s air field). The game
Monopoly uses the names of Atlantic City’s real streets (from prestigious
Park Place to the less-desirable Baltic Avenue), and the Miss America
Pageant has called the city’s convention hall home for more than 75 years.
The original Atlantic City tourists came for an ironic mixture of chic and
cheek, lured in by the tales of the ocean air and suckered by endless
novelties including freak-show attractions and a 65-foot metal elephant.
Somewhere along the way, the boom turned to bust, and Atlantic City’s side
streets became dirty and neglected. In time, the only thing people wanted
to go to Atlantic City for were the overcrowded casinos; even those were
starting to look second rate compared to Las Vegas’ new themed mega-houses
with their exploding volcanoes, and their pirate ship battles, and their
sleek black pyramids with spotlights that could be seen as far as outer
space. In Harrisburg, there were two groups of people: those who went to
Atlantic City and those who went to Las Vegas. The simple way to tell them
apart was by age; anybody under 50 went to Las Vegas. Yeah, well, we’ll
see how long that lasts, now that Atlantic City has a new battle plan.
This may very well be a “One-Tank Getaway” (and mileage-wise, it is) but
one thing is clear: it is in no way a “One-Day Getaway.” You’ll need more
than that just to catch your breath and get your footing. The Tropicana
Express, which gives passengers a 51-hour (two-night) package deal, was
just the…um…ticket. Although, to be honest, both my companion and I had
deviant thoughts about missing the train home and being “forced” to stay
another night. What a shame that would’ve been. We would’ve bought tickets
to the theater, we would’ve made dinner reservations at Wellington &
Chan’s, and we would’ve gotten to see the beeps, bells, and jingles of
some of the other casinos. As it stands, we stuck mainly to The Tropicana.
We’re not sorry. (The weekend we were there, Engelbert Humperdink was
playing in the Showroom. We missed that, too. Again, we’re not sorry.)
Okay, I’ll admit it: when I think of The Tropicana, I think of James Bond
in Diamonds Are Forever, playing Craps with some sexy dame blowing on the
dice. On the three-hour train ride there, I played spy games in my mind
while my dame was in the next car picking up tips on Blackjack and
Baccarat from the train’s card dealer (who was there to teach, not to
play.)
 Once
we arrived in Atlantic City, we were told to conveniently leave our
luggage on the loading dock for bellhops to deal with while we boarded
buses for the quick journey to the hotel. Just under five minutes, it was
more like a jaunt than a journey. The sun had gone down already; outside
the night was alive with flashing lights and ocean smells. This landscape
was meant to be alluring, both when God put a beach there and later when
man built giant hotels (15 times larger than your average Holiday Inn)
along the sand dunes, casing them with magnificent lighting and filling
them with all the greatest sins of America: pampering day spas, decadent
dining, and unapologetic theaters, ballrooms, and nightclubs. Did I forget
something? Nope. I planned on mentioning the casino floors. I just wanted
to hold out until you realized that gaming is only one option here. There
are 12 resorts in all and more on the way, and for those so inclined,
there are 26 golf courses within spitting distance and a full-service
marina district.
The Tropicana Casino and Resort is the largest hotel in New Jersey. It has
1,624 rooms, seven restaurants, three cocktail lounges, a theater larger
than any in Harrisburg, swimming pools, tennis courts, a health spa, a
shopping center, and even a museum exhibit (which focused on WWII
memorabilia when we were there). That’s leaving out the “main attraction,”
a 137,265-square foot casino.
Thirty minutes after we arrived, we were sipping Singapore Slings in the
Top of the Trop, a cocktail lounge on the 20th floor with a magnificent
panoramic view of the city. A piano singer with blue eye shadow, sequins,
and a cache of Broadway show tunes blended in so well with the
surroundings that she hardly even seemed real. It was perfect. We clinked
our glasses (“To the one sure bet in Atlantic City — us!”) and headed
downstairs to the Comedy Club, where we sat cabaret-style and watched
three successive comedians deliver punch lines with varying degrees of
success. They were entertaining, but there was a Jacuzzi in our room, and
I heard it calling.
Day Two started off with breakfast at the Beachfront Buffet. It was a
typical “all-you-can-eat” but done nicely, with a fresh fruit bar, an
omelet station, and a half-hour wait to be seated. Don’t let the line
intimidate you; it moves fast, and once you sit down, you have a “Good
morning America, how are you?” view of the Boardwalk to enjoy with your
brunch.
We spent a good portion of the day taking a guided tour of the city. We
went to Boardwalk Convention Hall and watched part of a practice for the
Boardwalk Bullies, Atlantic City’s new East Coast Hockey League (ECHL) ice
hockey team. We went to the Ocean Life Center, where we watched sharks and
starfish swim in an aquarium. The center is part of Gardner’s Basin,
where, in season, dolphin cruises and sailing options are available. And
we went about a half hour out of town to Smithville, a quaint and crafty
shopping village with historic taverns, specialty boutiques, and antique
charm.
Just before sunset, we walked along the Boardwalk, past some of the other
casinos, including Caesars, Trump Plaza, and Bally’s Park Place. We bought
a cheesy four-dollar T-shirt at a souvenir shop on the boards. On the way
back to the Trop, we picked up seashells along the surf, getting sand in
our shoes and watching the waves of the Atlantic Ocean come crashing onto
the shore. All around us, a man-made neon symphony played, and people
danced to the sounds of money trading hands in the casinos. On the other
side of the dunes, however, there was only the waltz of earth, sky, and
water. And beauty.
That evening, we had reservations at Pier 7, a seafood restaurant right on
the main floor of the Tropicana. Our waitress helped us pick out a bottle
of wine as the chef personally explained the special of the day: a
hollowed-out pumpkin stuffed with lobster tails, scallops, and oysters in
a saffron broth. I’m no Emeril Lagasse, but “Bam!”
For dessert afterward we spent a couple hours navigating around card
tables and slot machines. “You gotta know when to hold them/know when to
fold them,” and I did both a bit better than I’d expected — I cashed out
with one bill more than when I started. The floor of the casino was still
hopping and buzzing. It was almost dawn. Nobody noticed.
Back in the room, I closed my eyes but for a moment before the phone rang.
It was my wake-up call. There was work to be done back at the office:
calls to make, forms to file, things to do. It was time to ship out. I
packed, tipped the bellhop, and met up with the rest of the Tropicana
Express travelers in the lobby, where we gathered around a decorative
grand piano and waited to load the buses. The buses would take us to the
train; the train would take us to Harrisburg. It was nice knowing that for
the entire vacation I didn’t once have to deal with maps, directions,
traffic, or toll booths. I slept like a baby all the way home. |
The
Tropicana Express
The Tropicana
Express takes you directly from Harrisburg’s train station to the
Tropicana Casino and Resort in Atlantic City, NJ and brings you back three
days later.
What’s included
• Round-trip
transportation (including transfers and baggage handling), a two-night
stay at the Tropicana Casino and Resort (at Brighton Avenue and
Boardwalk), a ticket to Broadway-style revue in the Tropicana Showroom,
and admission to the Tropicana Health Club
When to go
The Train leaves
from Amtrak stations in Harrisburg, Middletown, and Lancaster.
• February 24-26, 2002
• March 17-19, 2002
Expense
• $196 per person
(based on double occupancy.) Price varies by occupancy requests (single to
quadruple occupancy per room)
Reservations and Information
Call AAA Central
Penn at 800-717-4222.
• Current Tropicana Showroom Revue: Bill Lloyd’s Masquerade (A celebrity
impersonator revue)
Places To Go
There’s more to do
in Atlantic City than just stay in The Tropicana (although it’s tempting).
For ideas and information, click on
atlanticcitynj.com.
• Absecon Lighthouse
• Atlantic City Art Center
• Atlantic City Cruises, Inc.,
• Boardwalk Bullies (Ice Hockey)
• Hard Rock Café
• Historic Smithville, Miniature Golf on the Boardwalk at1 Kennedy Place
• Ocean Life Center
Other Casinos
Within Walking
Distance:
• Atlantic City Hilton Casino Resort
• Bally’s Atlantic City
• Caesars Atlantic City Hotel Casino
• Claridge Casino Hotel, Resorts Atlantic City
• Sands Casino Hotel
• Showboat Casino Hotel
• Trump Plaza Hotel and Casino
• Trump’s Taj Mahal Casino Resort |
147x50.gif)
One-Tank
Getaway