At the Sharp End of Luxor

A trip into the room where they keep the light fantastic

Chuck Twardy


Editor's note: This is the first in an occasional series of stories taking readers into spaces not normally ventured into by the public.


At roughly 360 feet, it's not the highest point in Las Vegas. The vertical drop blunted by a sloping glass wall, it's not even the scariest perch in town.


But the tip of the Luxor pyramid, wherein nests its storied Sky Beam, is not for the faint of heart. Nor the uncertain of foot, for to reach the lamp platform, I depart the pleasant, earth-toned, carpeted halls of the hotel for a harsh, dim warren of steel and concrete, and climb. And I climb, up two flights of steeply inclined metal steps, then up two lengths of metal-rod ladder, hand over hand, foot after uncertain foot, until I pull myself into a movie madman's den.


It's a square room whose canted walls are lined with insulation and capped with a spectacular skylight. The perimeter is studded with equipment, wires and warnings, as well as huge air-handling ducts, to vent some of the heat that builds up, both during the summer day and while the beam is lit. In the center stands a menacing, chest-high array of 39 black boxes, each topped by a U-shaped mount that holds a black, octagonal block. In these are the pressurized, Xenon-gas lamps that together throw 41.5 billion candle power's worth of light into the nighttime sky.


I am not quite prepared for this menacing cluster, despite have arrived with a clutch of facts about it—that airline pilots can spot it from 250 miles and that, yes, indeed, it can be seen from space, as a Luxor spokeswoman says an astronaut has confirmed.


John Lichtsteiner, the Luxor's technical manager for rides and attractions and my Virgil for this ascent into hell, says each of the $1,100 Xenotech lights runs on 40 volts and an astounding 150 amps of electricity. They look unremarkable, a little larger and longer than a household 100-watt. Each lasts about 1,600 hours and the Luxor goes through about 90 a year.


Lichtsteiner says he oversaw the remodeling of its signature beam several years ago, installing better lamps and reflectors while repositioning the lamps. This boosted candle power almost 25 percent while reducing energy use. The hourly operating cost dropped from $135 to $73.


The lamps are remotely monitored and automatically controlled to light up after sundown and to power down around 3 a.m. most mornings. But they can be controlled individually from a panel mounted in one corner of the light lair. Lichtsteiner fires one up for effect and invites me to hover a hand over it. This is like putting five hotdogs in a microwave. Very shortly, I feel the skin warm and tighten around my knuckles. Tasty finger snacks, in seconds!


Even after I remove my my medium-rare mitt, the air above the lamps is not entirely free of obstructions. A metal-grating platform hangs maybe 10 feet from the peak, for window washers. It is reached by yet another vertical ladder, this one somehow more ominous than those below. Lichtsteiner scales it like a cat, then waits patiently to welcome me to "the 36th floor."


The splendid view of the south Valley, with the Strip's fantasy facades agleam in the morning sun, admirably compensates my efforts. I watch planes lift off and land at nearby McCarran International Airport as if they are toys; but the two red, aviation-warning lamps at the very pinnacle of Luxor are quite real. Four triangular glass panes on each side tip inward. Just below, in the center of each glass wall, a large pane swings inward from its top.


Before long I notice I have attained the final resting place of several million moths. Apparently the moth swarm attracts bats, which in turn attract hawks, two of which have had to be freed from this glass trap.


"It's like a whole food chain going on up here," says Lichtsteiner.


One without a human link, fortunately, although I imagine the movie madman plotting to roast a victim alive on this grate. (The music swells as the heat builds; I strain to focus a reflection from my wristwatch to burn the rope binding my hands ...) Then I find myself pondering the structural integrity of metal grating after years of nightly 40-billion candlepower beams.


The climb down is even more intense for being backward, and a carpeted floor has never felt as comfortable.


Still, when I see the Luxor, I reflect with satisfaction that I've been up there, in the belly of the beam.

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