Mar 10 2007

Dust to Dust: The Impending Implosion

by Megan Edwards
The Stardust
The Stardust’s skeleton

The Stardust’s annihilation is drawing nigh. The building has been picked as clean as a cow skeleton after a piranha attack. The remaining structure doesn’t even look like the Stardust any more, just a nondescript multi-story framework. I think it’s fair to say that the Stardust is already dead. The implosion will be its funeral.

Boyd Gaming, the Stardust’s owner, would prefer to keep the exact moment of its apotheosis as much of a secret as possible. I can’t really say I blame the company for keeping mum. In addition to being out of favor for political reasons, implosions are dangerous, even though the technicians that carry them out are very careful and have lots of experience making tall buildings collapse predictably.

Rumors are flying around town and the Web about exactly when the impending big bang is going to take place. I decided to take a field trip along Industrial Road yesterday to see if I could find any clues. Sure enough, a portable marquis on the side of the street flashed three messages in succession: INDUSTRL
WILL B CLOSED; 3-13-07 2AM TO 5AM; CIRCUS CIRCUS TO DI.

Road closures

The last line could make it seem, to non-locals at least, as though Circus Circus is about to die instead of the Stardust. But in fact, those slightly cryptic messages as very good evidence that the Stardust is going to fall down sometime between 2:00 and 5:00 am Tuesday morning, when Industrial Road will be blocked off between Circus Circus and Desert Inn. I’m planning to sleuth out a good viewing spot sometime after 1:00 and hope that there will be enough artificial light to see the show. If there isn’t, I figure I can still enjoy the auditory experience.

One thing I don’t plan to enjoy this time is the dust. I completely underestimated the size and noxiousness of the evil cloud that billows in the wake of a tall building’s collapse when I attended the implosion of the Castaways last January. Implosions are great spectator events, but breathing in the pulverized remains of a 50-year-old casino gives a whole new meaning to second-hand smoke. This time, I’m taking a dust mask.

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