Floyd Mayweather vs Manny Pacquiao: I've been to Vegas 53 times and I've never seen it so crazy!!!

Sin City is full of money, hype, panhandlers and fans and is more insane than ever as it prepares for ‘the biggest event in its history’

It is true that they move mountains, replace oceans and have magicians that can fart a lion here in Las Vegas if the price is right and during this fight week the price is so high that nothing in the flimsy paradise is beyond shifting. The biggest names ever in the Strip’s rich history are moving back for a new assault on the American people and under this breathtaking umbrella of acts is the greatest conjuring trick this glorious place has ever seen: Floyd Mayweather Jr v Manny Pacquiao for the soul of the city and the best part of half a billion dollars in revenue.Far from the mad crowd that arrives for any fight – even a tiny outbreak of fisticuffs at one of the five and dime casinos attracts a crowd – the city is mourning the passing next Monday of the Riviera Hotel. 

The dirty old dame of Vegas is 60 years old and, oddly for Vegas, actually looks and smells 60 years old. Well, mourning might be a bit strong, but before one of the last of the old Strip’s attractions is blown to bits in public, a geriatric crowd gathered to remember the place. It was the home of the Rat Pack, Liberace was paid $50,000 per week in 1955 and an endless list of slim cads, all from the school of wannabe Sinatras, electrified well-dressed audiences with grown-up lounge acts. Mayweather and Pacquiao are a half-billion dollars away from the Riviera and it is more than just a long walk on a pleasant night.It would be possible to camouflage the tiny Riviera with any of the giant awnings that are draped against Sin City’s behemoth hotels at the new end of the Las Vegas Strip – in Las Vegas you need to be on a building. 

The MGM Grand this week is hosting a gathering that even the far-sighted planners of the Vegas dream in the 1950s would have been unable to sketch without a sweet dabble at the surrounding desert’s infamous, mind-altering peyote. It is officially, this week, a different world in this strange place. David Copperfield, a god in this city, is booked soon for the MGM and the master magician would surely like some of the magic from this fight on the end of his wand for his opening night; it is all very well being able to make a London bus vanish under a cloak, but can you generate the $180,000 that Mayweather will make per second in the fight? 

Copperfield’s tickets are available at 250 bucks, Mayweather’s were never available at the face value of $10,000 and those lucky tickets now drift into a complex system where the highest rollers, men who can take down sections of the house, get the best suites and a ringside seat for Mayweather and Pacquiao. It is not, strangely enough, these men and women you see in Las Vegas when you stroll through the casino floor or walk between properties.In 25 years of professional visits I have never seen so many beggars and bag people so close to the doors of the big casinos. 

There was a bag woman kipping in the empty Sports Book gambling area at the MGM at about 1:30am and the walkway between New York, New York and the MGM was littered with the fallen, the falling and the foulest-mouthed panhandler I have ever met. The man, who parked his motorised wheelchair on the ramp next to him, greeted everybody with abuse and held up a sign that said: “Fuck cameltoe bitches”. He told me to “fuck off” when I tried to take a picture. As I said, you never see the truly big spenders in Las Vegas until they file in for the first bell.