My belated 50th

After twice rescheduling my 50th birthday party in Vegas, I was finally vaxxed and ready to go. I invited several of my friends from both my home circle and my Vegas nerd circle. Seven days of food and folly begin!

Wednesday, June 2

It's the Wednesday after Memorial Day and it's one day after the state of Nevada went "gah, COVID is so '19" and dropped nearly all restrictions for the vaccinated. We called our Uber driver after collecting our bags from the carousel and he was literally one minute away, beating us to the new pick-up point. Masks are still required at the airport and in rideshares, but as our driver said, "after you get out of the car, you can forget about masks until you return." This is unlike Seattle, where masks are still generally required for everyone in most businesses until at least June 30.

Arrows show the long route to the cab stand and
the longer route to the rideshare parking garage
pick up area.

Getting out of the car, removing our masks, and walking across the iconic Caesars porte cochère was freeing, as if the weight of the last 15 months of the pandemic had been lifted. People were chatting and smiling, and you could see their smiles. Counting the first 75 tourists I passed, around 15% remained masked, and that percentage seemed to drop as the week continued. Most resort staff remained masked.

I'd booked a room in the Octavius tower, where I'd stayed in September 2019 for a conference. I should've known better, but it's a long way from everything. It's a long walk from the lobby, and Caesars has removed it's front rideshare pickup areas, so the only place to catch an Uber is in the parking garage, far, far from where we were.

The fish pots are on the left. Stare 'em down
and show them who's boss.

My wife and I managed to score dinner reservations at the recently-opened Amalfi, Bobby Flay's Italian coastal replacement for his Mesa Grill. The meal was amazingly good, which set the tone for the entire week. We started with the crispy squash blossoms, which remained my wife's favorite food item for the entire week. We also had roasted butterflied prawns, and shared a filleted branzino with a lemon caper sauce. When ordering the fish, the waitress walked me over to a set of mediterranean blue ice-filled pots where the fish monger (OK, maybe he was a fish sommelier) described each of the fish selections and let me pick out the individual who spoke to me. "You, sir, are a fish." I said to my branzino. And then I ate him a short time later. 

They're still new and working out a few kinks—our waitress forgot to click "send" on our order, causing a delay of no consequence—but it's a very good choice for seafood among many in this town.

While my wife headed up to the room, I headed out to get bottled water and Coke. We might be living bigger than normal this trip, but that doesn't mean I'm spending $6.50 a pop on the minibar. Temperatures during the day hit near record 108°, but it's 9 PM, so it's certainly cooled down, right?

Wrong.

I've visited Las Vegas in June, August, and September three times each, and I've never experienced it as hot as this. With the sun down, the pavement radiated out the heat it had collected during the day. The walk to Stage Door and back, even with a shortcut through the air conditioned Cromwell, was miserable. I ain't doing that again. Hit the minibar, hon.

I dropped off the drinks in the room, toweled off my face, and headed downstairs to catch the end of the Golden Knights game at the sportsbook bar for a "free" drink. They lost. I hit quads once, and still lost, too.

Thursday, June 3

My daughter and boyfriend are flying in this morning, expected to be wheels down at 9 AM. We're meeting at Mon Ami Gabi for breakfast, they've first got to collect their luggage from baggage claim, so I figure it will be 10:30 or so before they arrive. At 9:45, we get a call: "we're at Paris, get here soon". We scramble to get ready, and that's when we discovered how far away the rideshare pickup area is.

On top of that, there's still a bit of a ride share shortage. The state removed its surge pricing restriction a few days before, but demand still seems to be outpacing supply. I won't mention it again for the rest of this report (except for the Golden Tiki pickup failure on Friday), but nearly every pick-up seemed to be 20+ minutes, or it would say "5 minutes" then assign a driver 20 minutes away—with surge pricing. In many cases, including this one, cabs were a better option. It's the first cab I've taken in Las Vegas since rideshare launched in 2015.

Breakfast was great, as always. We Ubered back to Caesars so the kids could drop off their bags, then they Ubered to the north Outlet Collection while I continued on to Circa. Me, going to an outdoor mall on what ended up being a record setting high temperature day? How about no.

Beautiful.

Circa is everything you've heard. From the time you cross the air conditioned umbilical hallway from Garage Mahal, everything is new and blue and shiny. This is unlike anything you've seen on Fremont, and would certainly not be out of place on the Strip. After a short delay at the sportsbook setting up my online account (and getting a free Circa t-shirt), I met up with Gregg who showed me his basic room (gorgeous). 

Dinner reservations for late tonight were at Andiamo's, and getting a final count of seven of us, I updated the reservations and pushed it later, because we'd certainly still be full at 7:00 after the meal we eat at 4:00. I mentioned this to Gregg, who said he'd also try the automated concierge text bot to get us into Barry's Prime. I'd been watching OpenTable for weeks unsuccessfully.

He then invited me for a drink at Vegas Vickie's. Nobody was at the bar other than us, but service was top notch. I ordered a Captain and Coke and Gregg ordered a Pimm's Cup. I'd never heard of it, so the bartender gave me a sip: gin-based citrusy goodness. Gregg said it might have been the best drink of the trip. I'll be getting one next time. 

The wife and kids returned from their sweaty shopping trip; we met up with Gregg, Michelle, and Becky to chow down at 8 East's happy hour. We shared everything around the table, but I fondly remember the tasty chicken skins, beef satay skewers, ginger chicken dumplings, and of course the brisket fried rice. Gregg spots David, Circa's head of food and beverage, who spots me at the same time. "Travis!" he says, "good to see you again." I'm dumbfounded. With everyone he sees daily, how does he remember me. I can't even remember family members sometimes. There are handshakes, introductions, and other niceties, and "anything I can do for you?" No, we assure him, we're all set, yet as soon as he leaves, we kick ourselves. Reservations at Barry's would've been nice. Ah well.

Back to Caesars to get the kids' bags, then a quick Lyft (except for the Caesars Appian March to the Forum Garage) to Mandalay Bay to get them checked in. While we're freshening up and resting, a message from Gregg: Maybe David came through for us without even being asked. We've got reservations at Barry's. Sorry, Andiamos, but you're cancelled. A few hours later, all fresh-faced and rested, we all re-convened back at Circa (via cab for us) for dinner.

Steaks around, except for me. I ordered the scallops and risotto and don't regret it for a moment. Perfectly cooked. For his drink, Gregg ordered the tableside cart-made Old Fashioned, which was close-up theatrical magic involving an ice sphere, an orange, sassafras wood, a handheld torch, and a hookah-like smoke infuser.

Oh, it's you again. Looks like you
got some Chuck on your boot.

While my wife returned to Caesars, my daughter, her boyfriend and I wandered a very busy Fremont street towards our late-night cocktail destination. It's a Thursday night, but everywhere is jumping. Zowie Bowie is on stage. Freaks are in their performance circles. It may be the busiest mid-week night I've ever experienced in this town. But then we arrive at the Underground at the Mob Museum. We provide the password, the bouncer hesitates and spooks us a little, then we're let in to experience the first roaring '20s. Except for us and the bar staff, the place is empty. My daughter enjoys it, though, as she's just graduated with a degree in fashion merchandising, and the 1920s are one of her favorite design eras. We're seated next to a gorgeous 1920s green velour and mink clad mannequin, and my daughter proceeds to tell us about the outfit, how it's rectangular shape was an indicator of evolving gender roles, and how amazing it was that it was in such great condition. In that moment, she was Dr. Dave of the fashion area. 

Gregg and Craig joined us shortly after we arrived, but as soon as our drinking slowed, it was last call. We shut down the place before midnight, and the kids and I caught a cab to Cosmo where Chandelier was packed but the sportsbook bar was vacant (including bar staff). I taught the boyfriend the basics of video poker. When he was done losing money, we went our separate ways. I strolled back to Caesars past the quiet post-midnight fountains. The heat wasn't as oppressive as it had been the night before, but it was still quite a bit more uncomfortable than I was used to for late night strolling.

Friday, June 4

I've got lots of big plans for the day: Omega Mart, Golden Tiki, and é, all in one 12-hour block. Here we go! (No spoilers.)

You have no idea what's in store.

I arrive at Omega Mart early, so I spend some time exploring the rest of Area 15: Gift shops. Axe throwing, and a Todd English robot-themed restaurant. My daughter and her boyfriend arrive shortly before noon and we head inside.

Two hours later, her head spinning, my daughter has had enough. We're about 75% of the way through the storyline, so while she and her boyfriend head back to Mandalay Bay, I finish up Omega Mart to its conclusion during the next hour. It's about 3:00, Golden Tiki is scheduled for 4:00, and I realize I haven't eaten a thing yet. The giant robot restaurant serves me some fries, a coke, and a USB charge for my phone.

Golden Tiki: what's to be said that hasn't been said already? I arrived before they opened at 4:00, so had to wait outside in the 106° temperatures at the front of the line with some other early arrivals. The security guy was entertained when he discovered both parties at the front of the line were named "Travis".  As the rest of my friends arrived, they tell me he was asking them, "Which Travis? We've got several of them."

I guess I clean up well.

A Dole Whip and a Mai Tai shared in the Dirty Pirate room with friends: how Vegas is that? In attendance: Eddie and his wife, who I was disappointed to miss seeing at Mon Ami Gabi yesterday;  Gregg, Michelle, and Becky; Jeff from Indianapolis; my daughter and her boyfriend... good times. 

The kids left early to make it to game 3 of the NHL second round playoffs (they helped the Golden Knights get the win). I'd planned to be out of here at 6:00 to get ready for dinner, so I scheduled the Uber as I was waiting in line to get in. Although it's true that scheduling the ride ahead of time can keep the price and wait low, it was a failure. The driver arrived at 5:40, and understandably tired of waiting, cancelled and left at 5:50. The next Uber I called was twice the price and took 10 minutes to arrive. Grrr.

Back at Caesars, my wife and I get all fancied up for dinner at é then cab it over to Cosmo. After being pre-seated, us and six other customers are greeted by Mario the sommelier, who offers us a first drink, sets our expectations for the upcoming meal, and covers food restrictions. The only restriction I was aware of in our group was a pregnant woman (vegetarian), and the staff handled her substitutions discretely and professionally.

Cotton candy empanada. Wow.

The food at é: OMFFG. It was magical. From chardonnay suspended in a gelatin raindrop to mussels infused in a vacuum with a vinegar, from liquid-nitrogen granulated sangria to cotton candy empanadas containing foie gras and corn nuts, every bite, every look at each of the 23 plates was unbelievable. This was a bucket list restaurant, and despite the ridiculous cost (I mean, you try staying in business serving eight people twice a night four days a week - that's only 64 covers a week), I'd highly recommend it. (EDIT, June 13: This site has photos of a menu mostly similar to what we ate, although instead of the scallops dish pictured there, we had fluke crusted with dehydrated squid ink in a squid ink sauce.)

"Where once they used to say 'cocaine is God's way of
saying you have too much money,' now, maybe EDM is.
Come ye lords and princelings of douchedom.
Hear my clarion call.
Anointeth thyself with gel and heavenly body spray.
Maketh the sign of the devil horns with thine hands.
Let there be high-fiving and the hugging of many bros,
for this is the kingdom and the power.
Now frolic and maketh it to rain."
- Anthony Bourdain (thanks, John, for reminding me)

Later that night, I really want to wander the strip. It's the first Friday that pandemic restrictions are lifted, so it's going to be crazy town. It's also still uncomfortably hot. The regular line for Omnia is eight people wide, mostly dudes, and stretching past Searsucker, out the doors, down the steps, and back almost to the entryway intersection. The VIP line is a few people wide and stretches the other way, past the sportsbook bar, along two walls of the poker room, nearly to the Coliseum steps. Steve Aoki was playing, and little else was, so it had to have been the hottest ticket in town.

I'd yet to see a $5 table anywhere—not at Fremont, El Cortez, Circa, Caesars, Cosmo, or Mandalay— and Friday night wasn't going to be when it happened. I wandered across to the Linq, Harrah's, and Casino Royale, found a few minor updates to my video poker spreadsheet, and lost a lot more money than I planned to Britney, James Bond, and The Price is Right (cue sad horns). Even the Goonies took my money, despite a guy walking past pointing at Mouth and Mikey on the screen, advising me, "Those [n-words] are gonna win back your money for you, man."

Time to call it a night.

Saturday, June 5

No Vegas trip is complete without a breakfast at Eat, downtown at 7th & Carson. We treat my daughter and her boyfriend. During the pandemic, a reality show helped expand the space into the adjacent garage, but it didn't look any different to me. Somehow, we always seem to get the "I'll see you in the flowers" table, which is fine, because 1) it's adorable, and 2) it commands a great view of the restaurant. The food was amazing, as always.

The kids and wife returned to their hotels, but after a short stop at El Cortez (no $5 tables at noon on a Saturday‽), winning a few bucks at Fremont (♫ Little Shop, Little Shop of Horrors ♫), and a few more bucks at Plaza, I headed up to the bingo room where Jeff, Craig, Michelle, Gregg, Becky, and I guzzled down some "free" Coronas, enjoyed ourselves a little too loudly, played the Bonanza theme song more than we should have, and left down about $40 apiece (except for Becky, who nailed down a $120 win). That's OK. I won it back and more playing video poker downstairs afterwards.

Jeff and I met up again later in the afternoon for the Preakness. The overhang at Circa is one of the best places in town to watch the horses. My $20 in bets netted me $23.50, making it by biggest triple crown win in years. Observing the lack of lineup at the sportsbook window, Jeff pointed out that it was the likely impact of the spread of mobile betting apps. Well spotted!

I take a Lyft back to Caesars to get my wife. We're planning on going to Valley of Fire tomorrow morning, so after a brief wander to and through Bellagio (piano music is back at Petrossian!), we grab a cab to the rental center. Sure, there's been talk of a rental car shortage, high prices, and long lines, but I reserved the car months ago, and despite everything that could have gone wrong, nope, no problems. A short walk to National's Emerald Aisle, bypassing the line, and me and a second customer have our choice of five different cars in the vast, nearly empty parking lot. Not five models. Five. Cars.

Hasn't swung a club in years.
Scored points on almost every shot.

From there, we head to a nearby grocery store to get bottled water and soda for the rest of the trip, especially the drive out to the desert. Then it's on to TopGolf to meet up with the kids and my friends Don and Connie. No reservations were available, but TopGolf's web site promised to have bays open on a walk-in basis.

We walk in. The line is somewhat long but moves quickly. "It'll be a two hour wait. Is that OK?" Yeah, I'm OK with that. We can eat, drink, and reminisce, and the kids are running late anyway. I tell them to take their time. But 45 minutes later, the text bot chirps "Your bay is almost ready. Are you?" We're not; give me 30 minutes, bot. It gives me 50, and the next bay is open. We whack golf balls, eat some outstanding bar food (seriously, food shouldn't be this good at a glorified driving range), and chat away the 75 minutes it takes to finish the round. Don and I tie with 80 points each, which just demands a rematch sometime in the future.

Bellies and hearts full, Don and Connie head back to their place. I offer the kids a ride back to Mandalay, but they want to go to Planet 13 instead. Shrug. We've got pot shops at home, but whatever, that's another thing I can add to my "been there in Vegas" list. For someone who's never been in a pot shop, it's probably pretty amazing. Having been in a few (but never partook), it's nice, but not like the best place ever. Eliminate the stoner references in the artwork in the hallway outside, and it could be indistinguishable from the cheap mall jewelers. Zales. Jared. "He went to Planet 13."

I drop the kids off at Mandalay, and think I'm being smart by dropping the wife off outside the VIP entrance on the north side of Caesars. I'll just continue on, take a right on Frank Sinatra, and park in the garage. Nope. That right turn isn't Sinatra Blvd. It's the onramp to I-15, and I'm committed to the drive up to Sahara. No big deal, as a drive back down the strip at 12:30 AM is nice.

Now that I'm back in the room at Caesars, it's 1:00 AM, and I'm thinking "I need to be up at 5:30 to get to Peppermill by 7:00 to hit the road to Valley of Fire by 8:00, and if I don't, it'll be dangerously hot when we get there." Vegas plans are in pencil, and I toss out the notification that I'm erasing Peppermill and Valley of Fire from the schedule. I'm sleeping in instead.

Sunday, June 6

Top: Mississippi Rob's Octavius tub
Bottom: Mine, same day photo

It's our check-out morning at Caesars. Over the last four days, not only has the Walk-tavius tower worn us down, but we have become really disappointed in the quality. Furniture is scuffed. Carpet is stained. A dresser drawer just falls out instead of sliding. The cabinet light switch does nothing. The tub jets are severely discolored. The closet door and dresser door are both warped and have to be forced. The bathroom cabinet trim is, in several places, missing. When I have a conference here, I'll certainly stay at Caesars again on the company dime, but the three older towers, closer to the action, aren't likely to be worse than this.

The kids are treating us to breakfast at The Henry, and while they and my wife each get the special, I order the oatmeal, remembering how good it was 10 years ago (for my 40th birthday, my only other time staying here), and knowing I'd get leftovers from their plates. The oatmeal was as good as ever, as was my wife's bacon and eggs.

While my wife and the kids explore, I head to the registration desk in hopes of an early check-in. The clerk is new—it's his second day—and although he thinks the room is ready, he's mis-read the housekeeping indicator. His trainer gently reprimands him for revealing that the room is on the 35th floor, but both he and the trainer assure me that yes, it's a wraparound suite with a fountain view, and "it's our best room." Well, no, there's rooms near the top of the tower that are better, but not for commoners like me, so I know that's not right. I'll get a text when the room is ready, they promise.

Scuffs, missing trim, missing knob.
#DeferMaintenanceLikeACaesar

I drive the kids back to Mandalay so the boyfriend can pick up a card he left behind, then we all head out to a Target about two miles east of the strip to get booze, snacks, and other stuff for tonight's party. While at Target, I text Cosmo's chat-bot, Rose, to ask about whether there is still drinkware and silverware in the suite. The bot can't handle it, but hands off to a human who says that glassware and silverware can be sent up from room service, but "personally, I always go to the Walgreens across the skybridge to get plasticware and cups." I should've read between the lines; it turned out that the room service charge is $10 for every six items (12 glasses, 6 forks, $30. Yowch.) 

At 2:56 PM, a good four minutes before official check-in time, we get a text. Room 1901, Chelsea Tower, is ready for us. 19th floor? Like, the real 9th floor? Of Chelsea, the further tower from the fountains? I'm questioning whether I reserved what I thought. Then we get there. 

Check the video. Audio on.

"It's fine," I tell my wife. "I've been known to ask for the loud rooms on Fremont Street. It's not that bad." She googles to find out when the music will stop, and finds this:

The oontz oontz oontz is going to be going until sunrise. That's just not acceptable. I call the front desk and ask to be moved, and they offer to do so, only briefly saying that "well, the room in the Boulevard Tower is going to be closer to the club than you are." No, sir, there are very few rooms in Cosmopolitan that are closer to the oontz than I am, and none of those would be in the other tower. They'll text me when the new room is ready.

Meanwhile, my bags arrive from the bell desk, and I have to ask the bellman to take them back. "You got the loud room, didn't you," he sympathizes, as if he's seen this before. My wife and I head down to the casino, and while I end up with 150% of my daily bankroll, my wife has to sit for a long, long time waiting for a slot attendant. Those damn oompa loompas ate her slot ticket and won't give her proper credit.

For dinner tonight, I tried, I mean really tried, to get a table at Best Friend. It's my favorite mid-range dinner place. But to reserve the private dining room, MGM wanted $100 per person pre-paid, when we didn't know how many people, and when my previous meals there have been about $75 per person. When I responded "how about getting two tables in the restaurant to seat 8 of us?" the response was "please submit the request through the web site." I did. The response was silence.

So, instead, I made reservations for six people at Night + Market, a Thai restaurant at the newly re-skinned Virgin Hotel and Mohegan Sun Casino, formerly the Hard Rock. I was a little worried about the reservation, as we could've ended up with 10 or more people, but in the end it was just seven of us. And in the end, we were one of only two tables being used. This place was empty. No activity in the restaurant. No sound from the casino floor. Rarely did anyone even walk by the restaurant. The food was good, and it was nice to have Jeff, Don, and Connie meet each other before the big party, but there are better options out there. It was so NOT a Vegas vibe.

At 6:20, while we're eating, I get a call. The room is ready. Whew. My wife and I dart out of the Virgin quickly after dinner, get the keys, open the door, and yes, this is much, much better:

Corner view, the entire strip beneath us.

It's party night. The kids arrive. Jeff from Indy is here. Don and Connie. Gregg and Michelle. John and Ute. We're sipping drinks, pointing out different buildings, watching the Bellagio fountains again and again, and feeling the emotion where "we're in Vegas, and this is the top of the world." 

My Vegas playlist is mostly on point, jumping from Sinatra to Hagar to Katy Perry like DJs from three different generations having a throwdown. The Killers "When You Were Young" comes on.

"You know where I've never been? Sam's Town," I say to Gregg. "Never?" he says incredulously. "You have to check out the lame animated animals."

Don has a presentation, where he hands me a few small gifts, and then a USB drive labeled "TRAV @ 50". On that drive is restored video of my 30th birthday party, as well as a parody song he wrote and performed specifically for the occasion. It was wonderful.

More snacks, more drinks, and in the end, we break out a board game, Ricochet Robot, which we play for five quick rounds. Don wins in the point count, but having everyone here with me was a win of its own. Time for bed.

Monday, June 7

It's cabana day. I'm not a pool guy, but my wife and daughter are. The cabana is at Cosmo's Chelsea pool, the quietest of their three pools, and the exact opposite of the oontz pool in the video above. We check in at 10 AM and get our pick. My wife and I order breakfast, and the kids show up as we're eating. They place their order, and I briefly step into the pool. Yeah. Still not a pool guy.

I leave the family to spend the day at the pool, head upstairs and change, and hit the road. One destination in mind: 

It's a longer drive than I expected. If the Sam's Town shuttles can get you anywhere in town for free, you're really going to be paying for it in time wasted.

I wander the property, staring open jawed that is the majesty of the animatronics: a scruffy bear, an eagle  with a lame wing, a couple of mostly motionless wolves, an owl somewhere in the bushes that complains but never shows up. This place does have one advantage, though. It's 1 PM on a Monday, and they've got one $5 table in operation. It's three card poker, but that's good enough for me. My first table game of the trip, and I'm six days in. I leave about 30 minutes later, $24 lighter. I've got a new $1 chip for my collection.

I've gotta head to the Park MGM CVS to pick up a prescription, but they're out; they'd have to order it. The CVS at Paradise and Harmon will have it in an hour, though. Paradise and Harmon? That's Mohegan's corner, and I forgot to get a $1 chip from there last night. I stop by the CVS and confirm the order's in process. At Mohegan, the place is busier than last night: one blackjack table has five players.

No $5 tables. Sigh. I buy in for $40 and grab the dice at a $10 table. The point is 10. I place the 6, hit it twice, and hit the point. The point is 8, I hit a few more place bets and points, and leave with $60 of the Mohegan's money. If they close down, it's probably my fault.

Back to the cabana in my street clothes, I order some lunch and a drink, but despite that, we're nowhere close to our required food and beverage spend. A large fruit platter to go, along with six Red Bull and three Gatorades close the gap to the penny. We all head up to the room; my wife isn't feeling well, and the kids are flying out in a few hours. I pack up a suitcase with leftovers from Sunday's party. I keep a bag of popcorn and a bottle of Old Tub for myself (thanks, John and Ute), but there's a lot in that suitcase. It's full and it's heavy. 

Soon, Jeff arrives, and while the kids head to the airport, Jeff and I head to the final party of the trip: The MTV Real World Suite at the Oasis at Gold Spike. Gregg and Michelle booked it. They ordered Pizza Rock. They got cupcakes from Freed's. It's over the top in a way that Vegas nerds can truly appreciate. 

Pizza Rock in the suite

Cupcakes from Freeds

The monkey guards the parking lot.
He probably isn't good at his job.

Craig, Jeff (Indy), Ute, and John, are all here, and Jeff (Calif.) showed up a little later. We explore every nook and cranny, and at one point, we're looking and mostly agreeing that this top floor used to be separate rooms as well, but "this space here was the elevator lobby, and these beams divided the rooms, and that's why there are so many sliding doors" and so on. Vegas nerdery in effect. There's also a secret room that felt a little like our urban archeology of the Las Vegas Club, not the confessional, but that's all I'm going to say about that.

A few drinks later, and an hour and a few non-alcoholic drinks after that, it's past midnight and time to wrap up. I grab the cupcakes and my empty suitcase, and leave the jackpot of drinks for Gregg and Michelle and whoever is lucky enough to clean the room after they move out. I drop Jeff off at Bally's, head back to Cosmo, and while I'm thinking about walking the strip one last time, it's been an incredibly fun yet exhausting six days. Sleep beckons.

Tuesday, June 8

Maybe they'll paint the balloon
before my next trip.

It's the last day of a seven day trip. My wife and I slowly pack up the room, wistfully look out at the skyline one last time, and bring our bags down to the car.

There's been a severe lack of video poker at Chandelier in my week, so I aim to remedy that while my wife decides to get revenge on some oompa loompas or something. Only one of the two halves of the bar are in operation this early in the day, and like many places this week, service is slow. I get my first drink ticket before my first drink, then get my second one before I finish. In fact, I've been slow-drinking it long enough that my wife is done. "It's 11:30. China Poblano is open."

I finish my drink and we head to lunch. The fried wonton, the siu mai, and the "ants climbing a tree" were as good as always, though I don't remember the ants being quite so soy sauce heavy. We make a slow, moseying trek through Aria, Park MGM, NYNY, to MGM Grand, stopping at a few slots and a few stores along the way. It's kind of a denouement for the trip, wrapping up, flashing back, and checking a few boxes that didn't really need checking. An Uber back to Cosmo, a drive back to the rental car center, and I'm soon sitting at McCarran playing crappy double double bonus waiting for my plane to start boarding.

"Travis, you're such a degenerate," says Jeff from Indy, who spotted me sitting there and came over for one last goodbye. Safe travels, we tell each other. Have a good flight.

Epilogue

For a Las Vegas with very few conventions happening, few shows, few concerts, and little to offer visitors other than gambling, food, pools, and spectacle, the size of the crowds are amazing. There's such a demand right now. The staffing isn't there to support it yet, as evidenced by the closure of some amenities (some bars are closed outside of peak hours, the concierge desk at Caesars is dark), the delayed drink service at slot machines, the slowness of some waitstaff. Strip marquees at MGM properties beg potential employees to "Join the show," and the sign at the Hard Rock Café instructs potential employees how to apply. If you've got a pulse, you can get a job in Vegas today.

There are no $5 tables anywhere in the tourist district. Not at El Cortez or Fremont, not at Plaza, not at Cromwell. There are no table games at all at Casino Royale.

Rideshare delays are isolated yet frustrating. Scheduling in advance helps but isn't a cure-all. Having two competing apps helps, although Lyft tends to over promise wait times.

We didn't make it to Valley of Fire. Among other items that were penciled in and erased when we encountered reality, I didn't make it to Ellis Island for karaoke, to the Millenium Fandom bar in the arts district, to Mayfair Supper Club, nor to Chef Jet Tila's Dragon Tiger Noodle down by South Point. Sadly, although I could see the Fountains of Bellagio repeatedly from my balcony, I never made it down to where I could actually see, hear, and feel them. I try to schedule the fountains' "Con Te Partiro/Time to Say Goodbye" near the end of my trip, but the schedule just didn't work out this time.

I'm so glad I finally got to celebrate with friends in these post-extreme-fuckery times. I returned home with around 75% of my bankroll, had at least a dozen amazing experiences, and even after 28 trips to Vegas, was able to do a whole load of new things. I love this town. If all goes well, I'll be back in August.

Viva. ✨