Las Vegas: Home for the Holidays

Yesterday, our travel blogger Bryce Longton noted a few things to do while in Vegas for Thanksgiving. I appreciate the effort, since I'm headed there tomorrow. But I'm from Vegas. I was born there, raised there, went to school there. I lived there for 18 years and got the hell out as soon as I could. Some people like it! It's never really that cold! The traffic isn't so bad! You can make more money without a high school degree in Vegas than any other city in America! And there's no state tax! I see it another way, though: It's a cultureless hellhole where Innocence and Purity go to die; where people's worst impulses (greed, lust, ego) are incessantly well-fed and encouraged; where they won't legalize pot or gay marriage, but where you can still turn a trick (or buy one) legally an hour outside of town. And even though Vegas tourists keep the local economy alive, they're by far the worst kind: drunk, unruly, stupid, and in town to spread their diseases (typically: venereal). That being said, there are a few places I have to drop in on each time I go home to make me feel ... a little more at home. Some places in Vegas simply aren't replaceable, and they're the few that make going home actually kind of worth the trip. Besides, you know, family and friends.

Eats:

Capriotti’s Sandwich Shop - The best sandwiches in Vegas, I tend to hit the locations closer to home instead of the original West Sahara one, which is tended to by Office Jockeys and workers flooding right off The Strip, down the street. Then again, if you live anywhere in Vegas, it’s pretty hard not to find a location more than ten minutes from where you live, these days. Get a “Bobbie” and throw it in your fridge; one of the 20"ers will feed you for a week, and it’ll stay good that long, too.

In-N-Out Burger - People here in New York regularly freak out when talking about California burger chain In-N-Out, with good reason: (1) they refuse to expand past Arizona/Utah, (2) the Burger Wars here are brutal, with top-caliber chefs inanely devoting too much time and money to perfecting the art of The Fleeting Perfect Burger, and (3) once you find it, or the closest thing to it, you have to wait half an hour for it. In-N-Out never costs more than $10. The ingredients are fresh and amazing. They never take more than ten minutes. And yes, their burgers are perfect.

Mr. Lucky’s 24/7 - Coffee shops in hotel/casinos are both indistinguishable and everywhere. And I can’t say exactly what it is that makes Mr. Lucky’s so special to me, but I do know this: They’ve got the old, deconstructed Sahara sign hanging on the wall. I’m pretty sure that you can still smoke in there. The Hard Rock Hotel still, after all these years, manages to play decent music (despite barely booking any at The Joint anymore). The food’s decent, the coffee’s typically pretty great, they serve halved grapefruit in a bowl—which doesn’t sound too impressive or exclusive, but for whatever reason, feels incredibly right, there—and their waitstaff is typically pretty great looking, which certainly isn’t the norm for a 24-hour coffee shop in Vegas. Good vibes; go here all hours.

Todd’s Unique Dining - Family-run local bistro that—in regards to service, dependability, and quality of food—is better than almost everything else in Vegas. It’s also cheaper than everything else in Vegas that would be of its quality, but the owner (Todd) and his wife (Terri) are there, supervising the their product nightly to keep it top-notch. A hidden gem and relief from the complete Celeb Chef Name nonsense of the Strip, my parents will inevitably eat at this nu-Green Valley institution 12 to 13 times over the course of a week. I honestly can’t blame them.

Luv-It Frozen Custard - Frozen bananas. Frozen custard. Down the street from my old synagogue and a Catholic high school I went to for one semester. Nobody gave a shit whether or not it was Kosher or Without Sin. Know why? Because it’s so. Goddamn. Good.

Fun:

Green Valley Ranch - A locals’ casino with a decent spa, a nice pool, some decent restaurants, and a solid movie theater. The late, lamented Whiskey Sky lounge may be gone, but the remaining venues are still pretty slick. It’s always clean, the crowds there are only slightly decrepit, but beware of both the off-the-beaten-path tourist (What the hell are they doing there? Exactly.) and the nice Jewish bubbies sitting in the poker room. The latter will just creep you out, the former will roll you like the easy, stupid mark you are. Or so goes my experience, sheyner ponim.

Moon - My brother dragged me to this place, once. I don’t do clubs, I do bars, but for the Palms (home to The Real World: Vegas), it wasn’t really half bad. Beautiful view, not terribly priced drinks. Still: full of skanks. Full of ‘em.

Las Vegas Gun Range - As a young man, I’m fond of loud noises. And while I don’t particularly like guns or what they stand for, I do like the fact that going home, you can basically do whatever the hell you want in regards to making loud noises. I mean, look at this! Christ! You can shoot an Uzi! Apparently, shooting a shotgun will make you feel like Dirty Harry. I’m in.

Callaway Golf Center - Besides the freedom to make loud noises, in Vegas, on the Strip, you can also hit things. Like your spouse! Kidding! Callaway Golf is right off of the strip by McCarran Airport—so if your swing is good enough, and you’re not distracted by 747s landing over your head, maybe you can knock out a window or two in the Mandalay Bay. But no, really, I once saw a guy choking his wife by the elevators there. Vegas—home—is crazy. Really.

Liberace Museum - Okay, so I’ve never actually been. But I like to tell people I’ve been. I’ll never go. Going home is nuts.