Last November, I received a notification from my Vegas Nerd friend Dave: he's hitting 50 in June, and he's inviting a bunch of us to Las Vegas to celebrate. Whooo! Vegaaaas! My 25th trip to Vegas is now complete. I wasn't going to do a writeup, and didn't think I'd have much to say, but one of the other nerds said he looks forward to them, so 4500 words later, here you go.
Thursday, June 6:
After an airport lockdown (missing kid, found) and an hour mechanical delay (leaking fluid), the flight and layover are uneventful. My wife and I land in Vegas about an hour late, so we grab our bags, rush to the Downtown Grand to drop them off, and then head over to Carson Kitchen to meet up with the crew, late.
The place was packed, but the staff managed to scrounge up two more seats at the table. My wife and I order food and drinks, then scrounge on the shared plates that had already arrived. The tempura green beans were great, as was the spicy chicken sandwich. The veal meatballs were merely good; it just wasn't as tasty as I'd hoped.
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| Drinks were had. |
After dinner, the group heads down to The D where we meet up with Mark and lose Richard. The noise is a bit much, so we bid a brief farewell, head to our hotel, and unpack. While my wife settles in for the night, I meet up with Dave, Pete, and Mark at Atomic Liquors. Drinks are tasty, the conversation is fascinating, and Mark picks up the tab (thanks, Mark!). Wandering up Fremont, we attempt to enter the Container park, but they close in 10 minutes. We duck in to the Griffin, but it's so loud, we realize that conversation would be impossible.
It's late, but I'm a night owl, so while the rest of the party retires for the night, I hit up Four Queens for some video poker. After about 20 minutes, I hit quads for $62.50, and decide that ending up ahead on my first night in Vegas is a good choice. I cash out, sleepily head back to Downtown Grand, and stumble across the crew hanging out at Art Bar. I hang out with them for a few minutes, and then it's time to sleep.
Friday, June 7:
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The front's smashed, the back's smashed, the airbag is
deployed, and there's part of the car still behind the rear bus.
What a mess. |
There's no better breakfast place in Vegas than Eat (shut up about the soggy pancakes out at Suncoast already), so my wife and I stroll over there. On the way, at the corner of Las Vegas Blvd. and Fremont St., we see that a speedy silver sports car has was completely destroyed against two double-decker buses. At first, I thought perhaps the driver barrelled out of the El Cortez alley, turning left, but there's a curb dividing the roadway there, and the curb didn't look damaged. What we didn't see was the car smashed into the
back of the rear bus. News reports say that the back car was parked up near Cashman Field when a police officer noticed "erratic behavior" on the part of the driver. When the cops attempted to make a stop, the car shot like a bat out of hell, careening down Las Vegas Blvd., rear ending the car we saw, spinning it around, and then both cars smashed into the buses. What a mess.
Onward to Eat. Breakfast was outstanding, as always. I tried the chilaquiles, my wife had her traditional cinnamon biscuits. Perfection. So good, in fact, that the family at the table next to us had to stop us to ask "what's that? We want to order it, too." Excellent choice.
We grabbed a Lyft to the North Outlet Mall, and on the way, noticed that the demolished car and the two buses were still being worked on. A little shopping, a little walking, and with temperatures approaching 100°, a little too much heat. We Lyfted back to the Downtown Grand, lost some money on the slots, freshened up, and then headed to Mirage to meet up with the crew.
It's
really early for the meet up, so we stop in at Treasure Island, and I hung my head in shame when I couldn't find the tram entrance. Instead, we walk over to Mirage and stop at Carnegie Deli for a snack. That hot dog was huge! Then we take some money from the slots, which we promptly give back into the bubble craps machine.
Now, time for the meetup, in memory of Al from San Diego. Richard captured the moment:
Glasses raised, memories shared, drinks downed... time for dinner. Most of the crew made the slow wander up to Best Friend at Park MGM; my wife and I took the slow Lyft. Like earlier this morning, some yahoo slammed their car against the barricades at the bus stop in front of Paris. Thank goodness for the new bollards.
Once at Park MGM, we wandered briefly through Eataly. Maybe we'll try the 3 PM walking tour on Sunday. Then, Best Friend.
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| Best Friend, with friends |
Oh my god. I think I'm going to have to update my
Most Memorable Travel Meals post. Best Friend is Chef Roy Choi's L.A.-influenced Mexican-Korean fusion, and everything we ordered was ideal. The short rib tacos. The corn. The eggplant. The tempura. The freaking kimchi fried rice. The raspberry-filled marshmallows, for christ's sake. Every, Single, One of these were the best of their kind that I've had.
But really, the best part of the meal was the conversation and developing friendships that the meal fostered. We wanted photos of the food, and Aaron and Katie had taken several. On Katie's Facebook page, we saw a photo of her
adorable cat. That prompted half an hour of sharing photos of pets, both current and fondly remembered. The table talked about music. Outside, Big Hoss wandered by, Ute spotted him, and Dave chased him down for a brief visit to our table.
I didn't realize it then, but this was the first anniversary of the death of one of Chef Choi's best friends, Anthony Bourdain, who once said "The perfect meal, or the best meals, occur in a context that frequently has very little to do with the food itself," and "You learn a lot about someone when you share a meal together." I'm being presumptuous, but I don't doubt that Anthony would agree that this was one of the those meals.
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| The Horseshoe sign, lit once again |
We lingered over dessert, talked friendships and Vegas and oh-my-god-that-was-good. My wife was done for the day, so she Lyfted back to the hotel while several of us Lyfted to
Brilliant! at the Neon Museum. Old casino signs that aren't part of the normal tour are exhibited in a separate lot, and a projection system brings them to life, throwing circles of light where bulbs used to be, colored lines on the missing neon tubes, and in some cases, animation of signage that never could have been animated in their heyday.
Reviews of
Brilliant! have been unequivocally positive. Some have said it made them teary-eyed. For me, yes, it was neat, but not as amazing as some have made it out to be. Still, as a Vegas nerd, and in particular, a Vegas history buff, it was great to see these signs illuminated again. The best part, however, was the elderly couple next to me. Easily in their 70s, perhaps in their 80s, she leaned against his chest, his arms around her, both of them facing the lit-up Stardust and Horseshoe signs. Mid-century video of Las Vegas played. "Do you remember that?" he asked quietly, the awe and nostalgia evident in his voice. "Of course I do," she replied lovingly. My heart melted.
The show over, we headed into the gift shop. I took a look at Al's paver through the window, but I'd seen enough photos of it that I didn't need to get one of my own. We caught a ride back to Fremont. While the rest of the crew wrapped it up for the night, I headed over to Main Street Station for some winning video poker, losing craps, and poor slots. Then I wandered over to Golden Gate to check out the new Circa sportsbook and lose another $40 in slots. Shrug. Finally, about 2 AM, it was time to call it a night.
Saturday, June 8:
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| Where is it? | | Peek a boo! |
The room at the Downtown Grand was a bit odd. We're two nights in, and gave up on finding a way to control the heat. No thermostat visible, no AC unit to mess with. It wasn't uncomfortably warm, but still on the warm side. As I'm dozing off to sleep, I finally hear it: the "click" of a thermostat. Where is it?!? I flick the lights on and search where I thought I heard the sound. Wow. That's some terrible planning. It's hidden in a 2-inch wide gap behind the lamp.
I drop the temperature a few degrees, and sleep soundly the rest of the night.
After the amazing dinner on Friday, any breakfast would be a let down. Main Street Station is said to have the best buffet downtown. While that's true, it's also like being the prettiest weed in the garden. It's nothing special, maybe a step above Old Country Buffet. Beyond that, it's a Saturday morning, so my 2-for-1 coupon didn't count due to the bottomless mimosa brunch going on. Meh. Better than a Hampton Inn breakfast bar, I guess.
I played some video poker, my wife played slots for a while, both losers. We headed back to the Downtown Grand, and while my wife napped, I headed over to Golden Gate to drop some money on the Belmont Stakes. I'd come in with a plan to bet a handful of exactas and a few win/place/show bets, but discovered that Circa only offered win bets and head-to-heads. Fine -- I put $10 each on four horses. None of them won. Meh.
I head back to the hotel to freshen up and meet my wife. Our 25th anniversary was a few days ago, and I've got reservations at Hugo's Cellar.
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| Obligatory food photo |
Dinner was good, probably one of the best on Fremont. Again, that's kind of like being a good looking weed in the garden. Granted, in any other town, this would be one of the best, most romantic restaurants around. Competition is tough in Vegas, though, so merely "really good" doesn't put it in the top ten.
Specifically, the service was impeccable, the courses were delicious, but still lacked the "wow" factor. There were no surprises, just solid, well executed dishes. We each had a filet mignon, which, again, were delicious, but not quite the best we've had (Alain Ducasse and Mix: you've spoiled us for life). The restaurant surprised us with an anniversary dessert: chocolate covered strawberries, figs, and dried fruit. Well worth the stop.
As an aside, the staff handled the high-maintenance woman at the table next to us with grace. She wanted a new table? They moved her. She wanted a special salad "because I don't eat carbs"? They accommodated her. She wanted more bread? Sure thing, without pointing out the discordance. "I dropped my napkin. Get me another." The waitstaff did, despite the strongly implied "boy" her sneering condescending voice spewed. Well done.
My wife was feeling tired, so I tucked her in and then headed out to meet the crew at The Underground at the Mob Museum, a hidden speakeasy down the stairs in the back. A goon rang the bell, a slot opened, and two eyes peered out. "Yeah", the door asked. "Jelly bean." The door opened. "Come on in." John and Ute were already at the bar, Dave and Pete arrive a few minutes later. Jazz was playing. Drinks were had. Museum exhibits were discussed. I tweeted:
After quite a bit of time soaking in the history and atmosphere, we wandered over to Oak and Ivy at the Container Park. More drinks, including one that Dave had involving a butane torch, oak smoke, and whiskey. Afterwards, the crew headed back to their hotels, but I dropped off for Saturday Night at the El Cortez, where the floor shows are abundant and the oxygen tanks are loosely stowed.
The video poker at ElCo continues to spiral towards irrelevance; many more of the low-edge machines are gone. Still, table games have $5 limits even on a Saturday night, so I spent some time at the three-card poker table, making back a little bit of my losses.
Sunday, June 9:
It's checkout time, and my daughter is flying in from L.A. to meet us. My wife and I catch a quick Lyft to Mandalay Bay, and because I'm cheap, I've chosen the shared ride option. We leave Downtown Grand, go around the block ... and Lyft's algorithm brings the driver back to Downtown Grand for another passenger. We drive to an old apartment complex on far east Fremont, where we drop her off. Although she's sitting next to me, my wife texts:
Onward to Mandalay Bay. Thankfully, they don't have the ridiculous kiosk-only check in that I saw at Park MGM. Instead, the helpful clerk miraculously finds me a free early check-in and two beds on the 24th floor overlooking the pool. My daughter arrives, we ditch our bags, and the three of us head to breakfast at Mon Ami Gabi. Although you can't reserve tables on the patio -- it's first come, first served -- we knew this in advance, so don't mind waiting the 30 minutes to get a seat. Meanwhile, I play some video poker while my ladies catch up with each other's lives. I get SO close to a royal, but no, not even a flush, straight, or fanboy.
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| Paris: So close! |
The women have breakfast, which they say is as great as always, especially the thick french toast. I have a cubano sandwich with fries. I mean, when in France, you've gotta have french toast and french fries, right?
My daughter wants to check out her company's outlet store at the North Outlet Mall and size me for some sweaters, so we head there next. Once I get fitted for those (kinda tight -- I need to lose some inches), I leave them to their shopping and catch a Lyft to the Happiest Place on Earth: Chandelier at Cosmopolitan. (No, you lie, Double Down Saloon.)
I get a whiskey sour, play for about 20 minutes, am down $25, and then hit my biggest win of the trip: quad deuces with a kicker for $500. Whoo! Of course, I play away a good chunk of that in the next 90 minutes, but score more tasty drinks, including my favorite, Becky with the Good Hair, off their cocktail menu, so yeah, it was good to play instead of going shopping.
My wife texts: they're headed back to Mandalay, so I cash out and mosey up there, tram to tram. We get ready for dinner, and then Lyft over to Palms. We duck through the hidden entrance in the arcade to Greene Street Kitchen. Although my daughter is a fan of Banksy, I didn't warn her that a piece of his artwork would be displayed her. As we walk past it, I nudge her and point. She stops cold, jaw drops.
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Smiley Coppers Panel I (2002)
Spray paint and emulsion on drywall |
"I'll be a minute," while we head to our table.
This is probably the second best meal of the trip, after Best Friend. Taylor from New Mexico was right: the thai beef lettuce cups are outstanding; the spices, the lettuce, the crispy noodle garnish, and the pico de gallo combine into perfection. Almost as good: Alaskan King Crab Tempura. I started referring to it as "popcorn king crab nuggets," which is the best description I can give it. We had quite a bit left at the end of the meal, and it was the one item we got in a to-go box. My daughter muched them all down over the next two hours.
The blistered shishito peppers were as good as I've had. The mini Maine lobster rolls were also good. The Philly cheese steak egg rolls were, unfortunately, a little dry. They're better at Holstein's. With so much food, we shouldn't have ordered the entree, the half roasted chicken. We picked at it; it was good, but nothing special.
We've eaten far too much. We waddle out of Greene Street, out of Palms, and catch a Lyft back to Chandelier. Somehow, we manage to find three side-by-side-by-side VP machines at the first floor bar. My wife leaves after about an hour, but my daughter and I head up to Chandelier 2 to grab some seats and wait to meet up with Dave for his midnight toast. Dave arrives, then John and Ute. I order verbenas for my daughter and myself. Those are the drinks with the flower you chew that makes your mouth feel like it's vibrating, and then changes the flavor of the tequila drink it comes with. I'd never tried one; I'd been waiting for the opportunity to have one with her. She's one of my favorite drinking and Vegas buddies, and she tells me she enjoys it almost as much as I do.
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| Such a happy place |
Sadly, it was underwhelming. A few minutes after we had ours, a woman with her crew at the next table asks us, "Did you try one? It tastes like chewing dirt!" She wasn't happy with the taste nor the experience. She and her crew struck up a conversation with my daughter, while I engaged in conversation with Dave and our crew. Big Hoss, happy as ever, arrived shortly after.
So imagine this scene from the view of the table next to us. An attractive 23-year-old woman (yes, I'm biased, because I'm proud of her), at the hippest bar in Las Vegas, sitting and getting drinks from a loud group of tipsy men in their late 40s and early 50s. I give them all the credit in the world for assuming that my daughter
might not be in a safe situation. I'd hope that they'd do what they did again -- they covertly implied their curiosity as to whether she was OK and needed an escape. Props. Thank you. More power to you.
She didn't need an escape, but realized her awkwardness and was ready to go. Without a full understanding of the situation, I called her a Lyft and walked her to the pickup area. With her on her way back to Mandalay, I returned to Chandelier, where at the stroke of midnight, Dave turned 50. Cheers!
Monday, June 10:
Before I headed out on this trip, my wife and daughter had toyed with the idea of getting a cabana. I'm not a pool guy, and the prices seemed way out of line with what made sense, so I threw it out to a Vegas nerd Facebook group: what to do. The consensus was to wait until Monday morning, when the demand would be lower. I also decided that my wife and daughter would have a better negotiating position than me, because I'm a dude.
But first, breakfast. We woke up at 9:30, and my family was trying to figure out a good traditional breakfast spot. The Grand Lux Café came to mind. They stop serving breakfast at 11. We're downstairs at Mandalay Bay at 10:25. Think we'll make it?
The Lyft arrives at 10:31.
We're dropped off at the front of the Venetian at 10:45.
Security points us in the right direction. It's 10:50, and there's a line.
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| Grand transportation |
We're seated at 10:56. The waitress takes our drink orders and is on the ball, pointing out that if she gets the order in soon, we can still get breakfast. We made it. It's decent. Good stuff. We talk politics and Uncle Sheldon's GOP contributions, but as some other Vegas nerds have said, we're on vacation, so I don't want to think too hard about the sourcing of my coffee.
I've got a slot ticket for the Downtown Grand we'd forgotten to cash out, so after breakfast, I head north while my wife and daughter head back to Mandalay to hit the pool. Unlike many casinos, the Grand's tickets are only good for 90 days, so it's not like I could wait until my next trip. I cash out, and check the free shuttle schedule. I've got about 45 minutes until the next one leaves. so I check out the craps table. Nobody's playing. Instead, I wander over to the Fremont and lose my buy-in at
their craps table. Ah well.
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| Cabana time |
The Grand's shuttle takes me to the north strip, along with two other women and their luggage, dropping us off at the Fashion Show Mall. I start to call a Lyft to go to Cosmopolitan, but partway through, I get a text: "At cabana in Delano Bay". They negotiated $50 off the price, and my wife decided to splurge. Intrigued, I route my Lyft back to the hotel instead, change into pool wear, and hit the pool deck by 2:00.
I've been telling people I only spent four hours there, but checking my records, it was less than two-and-a-half. Pools just ain't my thing. My daughter, however, has repeated several times that it was the best day of her life. She loved the "frozé" (a rosé slushie), the refrigerator stocked with all the water and pop we needed, the amazing service from our waitress, Shay. Despite a couple of service hiccups (the cabana host appeared once the entire stay, there was a miscommunication with the drink order), they had an amazing time. More for them.
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| I see you, terrace suites. |
As is my personal tradition, for my last night in town, I slowly made my way to the Fountains of Bellagio for the performance of "Con de Partiro" ("Time to Say Goodbye"). On the way there, I texted my wife: "Dinner thought: China Poblano?" Yup!
At 7 PM, the water soared, Bocelli and Brightman crooned, and I teared up a little. Then of course, I headed over to Chandelier to wait for my family. They arrived around 8, and we grabbed a table. On the way in, it's Dave! We invited him to share our table, and we chatted some more, enjoying our standard fare of xiao long bao, "Lucky 6" siu mai, "Ants Climbing a Tree" (chicken glass noodles), and "Swallow a Cloud" wonton soup. Dave suggested a seasonal drink, the coocoomacoo or something like that, which tasted like a cross between an old fashioned and a margarita. It's good, like everything else here always is. Chef José Andrés does great work, both culinarily and socially, so I'm happy to shut up and give him my money.
It wasn't until days later I realized I'd skipped my regular drink, the Salt Air Margarita. No big. I'd had plenty of amazing drinks and meals this trip. But dang.
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Goodnight Vegas. Goodnight cars.
Goodnight poker. Goodnight bars. |
We bid Dave farewell and happy birthday, and Lyfted back to Mandalay Bay. My wife and daughter were exhausted, but I've only been in town five days and still energized. My other last night in Vegas tradition is to try and walk the strip the last night, from one end to the other (counting Encore as the north end). I usually succeed about a third of the time. Tonight was no different. I decided I'd seek out the Britney slot machines and the super bright and loud dragon game ("TWO MORE FOR THE BONUS! ONE MORE FOR THE BONUS!") and play only those. The result: no Britney (those machines seem to be getting rare now that she's left town), and losses at Troopicana, MGM, Flamingo, and Linq. Cromwell sucked me in for a bit with their excellent video poker (loss), and I broke even at Casino Royale. At 2 AM, it was time to call it a night.
Tuesday, June 11:
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| So long, failure monument. |
We're up and packing at 9 AM. For a quick breakfast, we head downstairs to the coffee shop. The food is decent, but unremarkable. Meh. The manager, however, takes time to welcome us, ask how we're doing, and find out about our stay. When he discovers that my daughter might be back for a trade show in February, he promises her a free drink if she remembers his name. I'm sure she'll take him up on that.
After that, it's a pretty standard trip to McCarran. Security lines are short, goodbyes are said, and we're on our planes home.
Epilogue:
It was another great trip. I came home with more than half of my budgeted bankroll intact. I had more good food and good drink than any other trip to date. And the people I met and re-met were the best part. Plus I was able to spend it with my wife and daughter, which is always a treat.
Things to do again:
- Best Friend. That meal was the highlight of the trip. Perhaps it can only be done properly with lots of friends sharing lots of dishes. I hope I can arrange that.
- Get my family more pool time. I'm not a pool person, but they really enjoyed it. More for them, seriously.
- China Poblano. Every trip. Yes.
Things I meant to do but didn't:
- Gordon Ramsay Fish & Chips at the Linq was offering Beef Wellington and Chips as their special for the month. I meant to get there. Never did.
- Millenium Fandom: This sci-fi bar in the arts district was on my calendar for Saturday. Then I moved it to Sunday. then I moved it to Monday. It never happened.
- Haus of Gaga: Lady Gaga's residency at Park MGM brought about a small museum of her styles. I heard nothing but good things about it. I walked past it multiple times. I never made it in. Next time.
- Trailer Station: The morning we left, a temporary trailer casino opened on the site of the new Circa Hotel. They do that to keep their gaming license active. I've never been in town when one of these trailer casinos was open. Didn't make it this time, either.
- Rose.Rabbit.Lie.: Eventually.
Things I'm done with:
- Buffets. They're either overpriced or just meh. There's better options.
- Jacks or Better: I need more variance in my life, and Triple Double Bonus is sure nice when it hits.
It's three months until my next Vegas trip, and I can't wait!
