New Year’s Eve fireworks, fun energize 300,000 in Las Vegas

What do you get when 300,000 people squeeze together in one spot to drink copiously?

New Year's Eve on the Strip, of course.

Woohoo!

There was a panda. Tim Tebow haters. Cleavage (as if there wouldn't be). Huggers. Newlyweds. Cops and more cops. A violist (we swear). Even a local or two.

And that doesn't count downtown, where the crowd was tight by the stroke of midnight.

It was on the Strip, though, where most people gathered.

That's where the massive, eight-minute fireworks show filled the sky at midnight.

"It's the greatest fireworks I've ever seen in my life," said Mike Almengor of Bakersfield, Calif.

He was with Tracy Miller, who said, "We were here two years ago. It was absolutely better than it was then. But now I'm ready to get in a taxi and go back to the hotel."

Early on, folks weren't so tired.

"Vegas is the best place to be on New Year's Eve," said Jill Rishworth, who was hanging out with her husband for the couple's fifth visit here for New Year's. "The atmosphere is great, and everyone's in a good mood."

Certainly the weather didn't hurt, with temperatures in the 40s for much of the night. A big contrast with the year before, when it was freezing out there.

While lots of people close out the year with some bubbly and fireworks, Andrew Ferrera and Bill Benjauthrit drove all the way from Los Angeles just to give people hugs on the Strip.

Camped outside Bally's carrying "Free Hugs" signs, they hugged anyone who asked.

"I want to show people there's more in the world beyond themselves," said Benjauthrit, 28, who did not seem drunk. Really.

"We have an infinite amount of love to bestow upon others," he said, totally sober.

Even a few cops took part, grabbing a free hug before the festivities got into high gear.

Of course it wasn't long before that happened.

Shortly after 5 p.m., the roads crossing the Strip were closed, then the Strip itself was closed.

Parking was hard to come by, so lots of people parked west of Interstate 15 and hoofed it over the bridges.

Crossing over Flamingo Road, they looked like they were extras in a zombie movie on a deserted street, their collective mumblings sounding something like, "Mahhh. Brains. New Year."

When the zombies began arriving in force, the barricades came down from the sidewalks, and everyone crowded into the street.

Revelers hopped over puddles of booze in front of O'Shea's, tracking sticky footprints into the casino.

An employee cleaning the floors became flustered while brushing the beer-stained carpet. So, she gave up.

Not everything about New Year's Eve was loud and soaked in suds.

Providing some sort of weird evidence that Las Vegas really is part of the mythical multiverse, a string trio played classical music in front of the Forum Shoppes at Caesars Palace.

"It's a lot of notes, especially Bach, and a lot of work," said violin player Sandro Ladu. "But this is great. This is supposed to be the entertainment capital of the world, but there's not much else to do for people under 21."

They can't drink, of course, those people under 21. That would be illegal.

"Parents seemed especially responsive and appreciative that there was something for their kids," said Anthony Rodriguez on the cello. "And I think the kids respond because a lot of classical music is based on dance."

Speaking of dancing ...

Would-be partyers who liked to do their thing indoors were lining up at clubs all over town.

At the Palms, they stood in line, patiently waiting, lots of them in black and silver dresses, tiaras, Happy New Year hats. They smoked. They posed for group shots.

They waited.

While downtown, the party was already under way.

On Fremont East, the downtown entertainment district that's actually becoming kind of hipster chic, food trucks, quirky vendors and rock bands set up camp early.

Lou Pombo, 20, of Fremont Bike Clinic, tested a stationary bike that will be used for races.

"The Strip is for tourists," said Pombo, a lifelong Las Vegan. "Here on Fremont, a lot of the people are local."

Under the Fremont Street Experience canopy, thousands of revelers drank and danced to classic rock tribute bands.

Access was restricted to people who paid $30 to get in, but the pedestrian mall was crowded.

Just before midnight, Las Vegas Mayor Carolyn Goodman and her husband, former Mayor Oscar Goodman, toasted in the New Year from the stage between the Four Queens and Fitzgeralds.

"For the past two days all I hear about is this stupid ball dropping in New York," Oscar Goodman shouted. "Forget about it."

Donnie Williams and Shirley Gonzales were thrilled just to have made it to the party.

Williams, from Apple Valley, Calif., and Gonzales, from San Bernardino, left home Saturday afternoon with no room reservation or plan beyond going to the Grand Canyon.

Williams was watching a scene in the movie "Due Date" that featured the Grand Canyon and told Gonzales they should drop everything and go see it.

"But I have to gamble before I go," said Williams, who called from the road to land a reservation at the El Cortez.

That there is some good luck, no?

Al Boyter and Jennifer Brennan of Beaver, Utah, would probably like some of that luck. They up and decided after eight years together that New Year's Eve was the time to drive to Nevada and get married.

They were cuddling and giggling when they left the marriage license bureau Saturday night to find a chapel.

Fun is fun and all, but, sadly, there were no giant pandas on Fremont. At least none that we saw.

You had to be on the Strip for that.

That's where Junior the giant panda was hanging out, just trying to make a buck.

Junior said he was 26, from Palm Springs, Calif. He said he was celebrating the new year by trying to pick up some extra cash from tips.

"I saw other people doing this, and I just wanted to make people laugh," he said through his stuffed panda head. "It hasn't been too good yet."

Proving, again, the whole multiverse thing, protesters were nearby, carrying "Trust Jesus" signs and preaching the gospel to passers-by, telling them to repent for their sins.

"We want people to be safe," said Wibke Rockne, a Pahrump resident. "This is Sin City, and more people come for New Year's Eve. They'll sin everywhere."

Some people yelled at the group, while others reacted positively.

Someone threw in a nonsequitur just to mix it up: "Tebow!" came the scream.

"If you worship Tebow you will go to hell," a protester said.

Then, this: An Australian basketball team showed up.

Wading through the crowd near Casino Royale were the Keilor Thunder, from Melbourne, Australia.

The 21 high school-age players are on a three-week tour of the United States, which will include two games here.

Albert Pellizzer, the team manager, said he planned the tour to hit Las Vegas for New Year's.

"I thought it would be a great experience for the boys to spend New Year's Eve in Vegas," Pellizzer said. He seemed unaware of the 9 p.m. curfew for minors.

Some who were spending the evening in Vegas got to pretend they were in New York, sort of.

Staged for East Coast viewers at 8 p.m. local time, a Fox TV audience watched the Times Square festivities on a TV screen, just as if they had stayed home. So too was the evening's biggest name, Toby Keith, performing from someplace else.

The whole thing was surreal. There was a ball-drop-like countdown -- "Five, four, three, two, one " -- at the end of every commercial break on the network's "American Country New Year's Eve Live" broadcast outdoors at Mandalay Bay.

Most of the crowd fit easily onto the bridge that spanned the water between the beach stage and the sand.

When host Rodney Carrington stationed himself in the crowd to interview those cowgirls sporting the most cleavage, the camera operator commanded a degree of respect most local TV news anchors on Fremont Street could only dream about:

"Do not wave into the camera! Do not hold your beer bottles up! Do not read the prompter! Do not wave to your mom!"

Yessir.

Then "Pawn Stars" Rick Harrison and Austin "Chumlee" Russell showed up, and there was real, live singing from Joe Nichols and Lauren Alaina.

Cute women had a short wait to ride the mechanical bull -- maybe the only short wait for anything the whole night -- and the patient were rewarded with the sight of a shirtless Carrington in a pair of 2012 boxer shorts.

Fear not, a bathrobe went on as soon as the camera light went off.

Review-Journal reporters Kristi Jourdan, Doug Elfman, Tim O'Reiley, Mike Weatherford and Benjamin Spillman contributed to this story. Contact reporter Richard Lake at rlake@reviewjournal.com or 702-383-0307.