Las Vegas joins world in celebrating royal wedding

It was around 12:30 a.m., and a young woman elegantly dressed in a dark, sleeveless gown with a string of pearls around her neck and a tiara atop her head swiveled on her bar stool at the Crown & Anchor British Pub, near the intersection of Maryland Parkway and Tropicana Avenue, toward the giant TV screen on the wall. Normally, they only pull down the retractable screen at The Crown in the wee hours of the morning when Wayne Rooney and Manchester United are playing soccer.

This was different. As noted, this young woman was wearing a sleeveless gown. You normally don't see a lot of women in sleeveless gowns at The Crown when Wayne Rooney and Manchester United are playing soccer. You don't see a lot of women, period.

In about 2½ hours, His Royal Highness Prince William Arthur Philip Louis, Duke of Cambridge, Earl of Strathearn, Baron Carrickfergus, Royal Knight Companion of the Most Noble Order of the Garter, Master of Arts would say "I will" to Miss Catherine Elizabeth Middleton, now Her Royal Highness, The Duchess of Cambridge -- or as the male patrons at the Crown & Anchor would be chanting in a little while, as if she had just scored the winning goal for England in the World Cup, "Kate! Kate! Kate!"

And 21-year-old Rebecca Stevens, originally of the city, unitary authority area and ceremonial county in southwest England with a population of 433,100 known as Bristol (everything in England has a royally long name, it seems), but now a nursing student at UNLV -- which is what can happen when one meets a smooth-talking American on holiday in Portugal -- simply was not going to miss it. By this time, there were about 70 people in the pub, many of them women, many of them dressed as Stevens was dressed, in gowns and ornate hats, the way one would dress for ... well, a wedding of royal proportions, or the Kentucky Derby.

This was a big deal for a lot of people. For somebody from Bristol, England, this was bigger than Wayne Rooney playing soccer for Manchester United, even if didn't feel like it, probably because there were white carnations in vases on the tabletops instead of lots of empty pint glasses. And also because hardly anybody was swearing.

"People don't camp out all night to see Wayne Rooney," said Stevens, sounding very much like Keira Knightley, the British actress, and bearing more than passing resemblance to her, too.

Manchester United plays British-style football practically once a week. This was a Royal Wedding. Like English victories in the World Cup, these don't happen often.

When Charles, Prince of Wales, wed Lady Diana Spencer in 1981, it would be another eight years before Stevens even was born.

Across town, Brittany Halberg, the former UNLV Lady Rebels basketball player, and her roommate, Ariel Berlinger, were watching the Royal Wedding in sweat pants and tiaras. Berlinger's mother, Debbie Azoulay, and her mom's former maid of honor, Carol Rosen, were in from Long Island, N.Y. Azoulay had made chocolate chip muffin tops and brownies. This was much more royal than, say, Chelsea Clinton's wedding. Azoulay didn't make muffin tops for that one.

The muffin tops were delicious, but none had Kate Middleton's image baked into the crust. Halberg punched up a story on her little red laptop computer that showed a mango jellybean with a swirl pattern that bore an uncanny resemblance to Kate Middleton. It was from a candy shop in Dublin, owned by a proper Irishman named Peter Cullen -- Halberg's uncle.

Halberg said there still are four Lady Diana Beanie Babies in the house she grew up in Lake Oswego, Ore. She remembers crying when Lady Di died in that car crash, how distraught she was, how her mother stayed up all night with her, trying to comfort her, telling her these things, as terrible as they seem, happen for a reason and then ...

And then there was a shriek from the sofa where the other women sat.

"Man, look at that dress!" Berlinger howled as the cameras locked in on one of the privileged ones making her way into Westminster Abbey on the flat-screen television. "It looks like a sack!"

There was more circumstance than pomp at this particular private Royal Wedding party. Twenty minutes later, on the Strip, there was neither. The royal nuptials would soon be exchanged and history would soon be made. The Strip, except for a shirtless drunk guy, appeared to be royally wed to its pillow by then.

An ad for "Roundtable Royals" flashed on the big video screen at Planet Hollywood as Amber Goldberg and her friend Ashley Day walked toward it. They were wearing tiny sequined minidresses and holding party shoes with multi-inch spiked heels in their hands. Alas, it was an ad for slot machines. The two women from Boston were frustrated that nobody on the Strip seemed to be as interested in the Royal Wedding as they were.

"We asked the guy at concierge, but he said nobody was doing anything," Goldberg said with a forlorn shrug.

Well, at least they had met Holly Madison earlier in the day, practically bumped right into her when she was filming a spot for one of those tabloid TV programs.

"She was very neutral," Goldberg said.

Back at the Crown & Anchor, the bar was nearly packed with patrons who were far from neutral. They were getting royally primed for the big moment. They wore William and Kate masks on the backs of their heads, or sleeveless Union Jack blouses, or T-shirts that said "All Blacks" on front -- turns out rugby players from New Zealand are into the Royal Wedding, too.

But Stevens, originally of Bristol, England, now a nursing student at UNLV, had gone home. Her dog had eaten a candy bar and had gotten violently ill.

Roughly 20 feet above where she had been sitting, a Manchester United jersey with Wayne Rooney's name and number on it was hanging from the rafters, which seemed sort of ironic.

Las Vegas Review-Journal reporter Ron Kantowski can be reached at rkantowski@reviewjournal.com or 702-383-0352.