Covering the SEMA show in Las Vegas sounds cool on the surface—fly to Vegas on the company dime, do Vegas things, and look at sweet cars—and it mostly lives up to that billing. The only major hurdle is that the show isn’t set up to be covered like a normal auto show at all, which means hustling through narrow hallways and trying to grab photos of cars packed into tiny display booths while jockeying with crowds of people who have a stronger reason for being at the closed-to-the-public SEMA show than we do (that is, to buy or sell products). It’s daunting. So when Hellwig Products contacted us with an offer to sleep overnight on the show floor, in an overland camping vehicle it had built, we figured, “Hell, that sounds convenient!” Cover show, pass out in a camper inside said show, wake up and keep covering show. Easy!
Forget being the man in a van down by the river; we were signing up to be the man in a van down by the Las Vegas Convention Center. The upshot, besides doing something that we were told no one had ever done in the SEMA show’s 50-year history—indoor camping—was that I was also being given unfettered access to the entirety of the show all night long. To explain the appeal of that last bit, think of it this way: Browsing SEMA by night, with no one else around, would be like seeing a highly anticipated new movie in an empty theater. Pick your seat! Spread out! Do whatever! On a more practical level, the overnight would allow for humanity-free photography. Remember, SEMA is a crowded event that is in no way set up to be covered by the media, making the task of snapping photos of the shiny wares without at least 20 people wandering into the shot a challenge during normal show hours.
My in-SEMA hotel turned out to be a Nissan Titan XD crew cab with a $28,125 Lance in-bed camper (and a $118,871 total build price). It was parked on the second floor of the convention center’s South Hall, near a variety of outdoor companies’ booths. The Hellwig product tie-in, for those unfamiliar with the brand, was the camper’s set of beefed-up suspension components designed to make hauling heavy loads easier. Specifically, Hellwig had bolted on a set of its sway bars, load-leveling rear air springs, and helper springs. The cumulative result of these add-ons, we were told, is a reduction in tail sag with a weighty load (such as a camper or heavy trailer) and less body roll in corners—despite a mild suspension lift courtesy of Icon Vehicle Dynamics. Even without the camper’s stabilizing “feet” extended, the rig exhibited no discernible side-to-side rocking, even when we jumped around inside it. The camper featured a spacious main room with a kitchenette (complete with a stove, microwave, and sink), a refrigerator, a small dinette with a table, and plenty of latched cupboards. An A/C unit hung from the ceiling, and there were windows with screens and an overhead vent with a fan.
At the forward end of the room—toward the front of the Nissan—was a queenish-size bed in the short-ceiling portion that hangs over the truck’s cab, accompanied by a TV and audio that could play music over the in-camper speakers or the external units. A bathroom with a toilet that also doubles as the shower (the door seals, and there’s a drain in the floor and a shower head) sat at the rear. Theoretically, you could do your business while showering; I didn’t attempt this, however. Nor did I actually use the bathroom at all, since after our stay, the camper would continue to live as a display item for show goers to explore. You’re welcome, SEMA. Anyway, the camper and the lifted Nissan underneath it looked like a perfectly fine, if unnecessarily bad-ass. temporary hotel room. Inside the convention center, there were no boulders to climb or faraway vistas to see, only some medium-pile carpet and climate-controlled air.
During normal hours, this atrium is stuffed with people.
Go, Cubs, Go!
I had scheduled the SEMA sleepover with Hellwig Products for the second night of the show, a Wednesday. Car and Driver’s publisher had scheduled a dinner for the same evening, which was no problem given the 24-hour show pass that would allow me to waltz in and out of the convention center at my leisure. A third, unscheduled event popped up at the last minute, however. This author’s hometown baseball team, the perpetually backwater Chicago Cubs, had scraped into a Game Seven in the World Series that was to be played that very night. Fitting that an indoor-camping experience would come to be at the mercy of my proximity to a cable-linked television (which the camper did not have). Happily, the dinner was literally arranged around the game, in the form of choice restaurant seating near TVs.
Yet as the hours stretched on, and the Cubs’ early lead in the game eroded, it dawned on me that maybe the camping wasn’t such a great idea. It was difficult to imagine which could be worse: the specter of losing the game and the World Series, or losing the big game and having to retreat to a camper inside of SEMA, possibly hung over and definitely dejected. As most of the non-hermit world now knows, the Cubs prevailed in 10 innings. Which left me facing the prospect of ending the historic night, the breaking of a 108-year championship drought . . . in a camper inside the SEMA show, half a country away from many of my friends who were flooding Wrigleyville and partying late into the night.
“Echo!”
The extra-long game and my postgame celebration pushed my arrival back at SEMA to around midnight. My actual hotel room, where I stayed the rest of the week, was in the Westgate Las Vegas Resort and Casino attached to the convention center. After grabbing some sweatpants, a T-shirt, my camera, my briefcase, and my purple-colored all-access pass from there, I simply walked out of the Westgate’s lobby, past a bored-appearing security guard, and into a semi-darkened SEMA show. Contrary to my expectations, I was not entirely alone—there were security people stationed at every doorway (once inside the convention hall, there are secondary thresholds between halls, meeting-room areas, etc.) and roaming the floor. The show felt foreign; seeing the cars, car parts, and displays brooding in shadow and bereft of people was a new experience.
The emptiness also helped drop my hiking time from the Westgate, which is located on the northernmost side of the Las Vegas Convention Center, to South Hall, on the southernmost side of the place—roughly a quarter-mile—quicker than ever before. Go figure: Ducking through throngs of people slows one’s pace.
Once at the camper, I ditched my stuff, grabbed my camera, and set out to snap show-floor shots of the concept vehicles displayed by the OEMs for this website. If anyone picked up on the slightly dark, attendee-free vibe in our photo coverage of the Toyota Corolla coupe, 220-mph Toyota Land Cruiser, Chevrolet Silverado HD Alaskan Edition, and others, kudos to your sharp eyes. I also went on the hunt for a few vehicles to add to the Best of SEMA 2016, Day Three roundup story. Walking the SEMA show’s hallways by night, we noticed cars that we hadn’t during the day. And we could stroll right up to them, or take them in from whichever angle we pleased. Who needs three days in this place? Hell, next year I advocate that we cover the show solely between 10 p.m. and 6 a.m. We’d be finished in one evening!
Just a man alone with his thoughts and an electric campfire.
Camp SEMA
By around 2:30 in the morning, I was finished with my photos and my aimless wandering. Earlier that day, I had spotted a fake campfire at the booth for Bestop (maker of aftermarket Jeep roofs) near my “camp” and warned Hellwig’s reps that I might steal it for metaphorical warmth. Saving me from a potential run-in with SEMA’s security people, Hellwig worked some connections before my arrival post-dinner and, voilà, the electric campfire was there. As I sank into one of the camp chairs next to the “fire,” a security person walked past and gave me a strange look. As there was nothing for me to look out on but said confused security person and other SEMA booths, lit by overhead fluorescent lighting, I retired to the camper having not done much actual camping. To block out the show floor’s relative brightness, I pulled shut every window shade, put on my sweatpants, and crawled onto the bed and into a waiting a sleeping bag and pillow.
Oops. A strong fluorescent light above the camper created this unintended night-light for the sleeping quarters.
Immediately there was a hangup. The overhead, pop-up vent in the bed area, which I had closed so that the A/C could do its thing, turned out to be molded from a semi-translucent plastic. And there was an overhead light directly above the camper, beaming a diffuse white glow into my sleeping quarters. Outdoors and at night, this wouldn’t be an issue. However, in my current indoor-camping scenario, the light intrusion was making it hard to sleep. Eventually, I zipped myself into the sleeping bag and dropped off. The bed proved comfortable enough—although, not being used to sleeping in a shallow, drawer-like space, I bonked my head on the ceiling a few times. A few short hours later, I awoke, broke camp—as in, grabbed my stuff—and dragged myself back to my hotel room for a shower before heading back into the show to cover Day Three.
So what did we learn sleeping in SEMA? Besides the initial unease of trying to relax enough to sleep inside a vehicle parked inside an auto show, it was entirely pleasant. Certainly, it was better than sleeping in a tent. Or on the ground. Quite possibly, it was cleaner than our Vegas hotel room. It was easily one of the weirder things this author has ever done in Sin City. But even better than the sleeping arrangement was the carte blanche we were given simply to browse SEMA alone and admire the show’s goods as we pleased. Not a bad way for a Chicago North Sider to end a historic night: with a little history-making act of his own, even if it was only a sleepover.
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