If you see me today please talk softly and slowly. Please, no sudden movements or complicated questions. Just like oil and water, Israelis and Palestinians, Bill and Hillary, some things should never be put together. That's me and Las Vegas. I went for business. My partner and I are designing a big time nightclub in a big time hotel. I swear. The porn star convention just happened to coincide with our stay. The closest I got to a porn star was the limo driver at the airport holding up a Terra Patrick placard. Ok, ok there were a few around, at night, at our tables, but, again, a mere coincidence and completely unsolicited. I have no interest in such matters.

I don't gamble, whore around or take in shows. The only things I like about sin city are the fantastic restaurants and the desert itself. I spent a great deal of my wonder bread years in the high desert of California. I lived in a little town called Quartz Hill. I had hair down to my waist, ran an organic health food store, lived on a commune, knew how to roll a joint and had sex with hippie chicks. I used to take long hikes in the desert and the Tehachapi mountains, an environment similar to the one I was dragged to this past week, except for the city of sin Bugsy Seigel put there. Sometimes, when hiking way back then, if I was real lucky, I would come across a herd of wild mustangs and my heart would just stop. Their beauty and the primal sense of freedom they imparted lives within me still. There were many herds of horses in the high plains. You were taught that the domesticated ones took no notice of you, while the wild ones looked up and followed your every move.

That life lesson became very relevant in the hallways and casinos during the porn convention. I was told that you could tell the difference between the hookers and the porn stars, as the hookers will take notice of you, smile and watch your every move while the porn stars just ignore you and blow right past. It's truly amazing how all these lessons from my past can be applied today. I had to get out of this place if it was the last thing I ever did, but we were there for a purpose. We are designing the next big thing.

I had an amazing lunch at the Mesa Grill. Management told me how chef Bobby Flay regularly checks in to make sure the quality is maintained. Everything about the place works. Great service and great food. It is a great experience. Our meetings went well during the day and we were whisked around like VIPs at night.

Pure seemed tired and old. There weren't a thousand people fighting to get in like I remember it. As we were whisked to the best table in the place, it seemed like it had had its night and was just going through the motions. The crowd was mostly an uneducated, unstylish mass who learned long ago that a couple grand makes you look grand in Vegas, and unfortunately, in many cases, NYC too. LAX was even more tired. I liked the place and could see how it was such a huge hit in its day.

Everywhere at every joint the door staff was buttoned up. Vegas is geared to extract money and the spider web begins at the door. Every waitress had porn star boobs and the go-go dancers helped sell the message that you can have it all, if you spend the money. Vegas is no place for a romantic warrior like me. Vanity was very clean. The crowd was better than the others, the walls were smartly finished, tables nice. The staff was a little bit more sophisticated, but it lacked an energy, a center and it didn’t hold my interest for very long. Tryst was just awful. I was there long ago when the hotel opened and hated it. It's been redone and it’s a million times better, probably 10 or 15 million times better, as they did throw some money at it. The music everywhere was the same old same old, but seemed even older here. The crowd was less mixed and had fewer really unbearable people than LAX or Pure, but the whole place seems like an afterthought. You have this billion dollar casino/hotel complex and you have to stick a club in there someplace. So the club is downstairs, out of the way, you take a couple of turns... The planners gave it a big beautiful wet rock and not too much else. With Steve Wynn's quest for the best, Tryst is surprisingly subpar.

Tao never disappoints. Yes, Jason and Noah are my friends, but that opens them up for harsher criticism than the rest. Tao, five years later, is banging. The important tables had important people at them—players, some even recognizable from Manhattan's hot spots. There was a nice blend of classy women and sexy slutty Vegas types. The music didn’t drown out conversation, but was still driving the room. They added a tier above the owner’s section, which really added to the experience. Also very important, the experience for the general public was better. Most of the places treat the public like the second-class citizens they are, which is very wrong. The general public makes up at least 30 percent of the revenue of these places and should be treated like they are important. I think that Tao treats the GP better than the rest and has them coming back for more. Tao's high end is cultivated on different levels. It is indeed pushed now to Lavo and will move with the strategic group crowd to the next venture. The public pays lots of bills. That concept seems to escape most of the other places, which treat the masses like seitan. The public areas of Tao had a sexy environment where even an old codger like me was flirted with.

I wasn't impressed with Haze. Everywhere I traveled within the place security was not so politely moving me along. Flow is terrible and it's not much to look at. It has "new' going for it and was packed, but we all know "new" grows old. I chatted with a slim and quiet Andrew Sasson, Haze's owner, while at Noah Tepperberg and Jason Strauss' table at Lavo. I congratulated him on his major success in Vegas. Last time I was here he showed me around. He knows everyone and the city's workers pour big fish and players in his direction. Haze is the least impressive thing I’ve seen him do. It lacks the subtleties of the other Lit Group properties and the real hospitality chops he is known for. The crow flow, lighting and overall experience need to be rethought.

Then came XS. XS is the best club of this sort I have ever seen. It is executed perfectly. It was not an afterthought, but designed to win. It is winning. A zillion tables with few bad ones. The lighting, the decor, the staff were all visibly better than the rest. It features a beautiful, romantic pool, which will take this place to another level when the weather warms. The crowd was more diverse and better dressed than the rest. Xs takes Vegas clubdom to another level. I will be hard pressed to better it. But I will.

Our meetings ended two days early but we couldn’t escape. The porn people and a massive tech convention ate up every flight and car rental. I was going bonkers. I was playing Wheel of Fortune and fantasizing about Vanna White and mumbling a lot. I was telling my penguin joke to senior citizens from Decatur, Georgia and Butte, Montana. We all yelled "wheel of fortune" and screamed with glee at our jackpots. When I was down to my last two cents, I won twelve dollars and 40 cents on a penny slot machine while waiting for Claire Council from Rapid City to free up a chair at the Wheel of Fortune machines. Poor dear needs to go potty a lot.

I was thinking of going to see Bette Midler with her and the gals before my partner Marc Dizon, seeing my rapid deterioration, devoted himself to getting us out of there. We decided to go to LA. We pulled in a ton of favors to get ourselves a new mustang convertible. We headed away from Vegas into the familiar, friendly and romantic desert. Redbulls and starbucks and the thought of seeing my old crew in Venice drove me all night. I slept in Echo Park and walked around Venice the next day kissing baby Indigo and hugging old friends. I hate to say it, but I really loved it. After our BBQ we headed to the Chateau Marmont where my best friend Patty Doria has found a niche at the hotel restaurant. Andre Balazs’ place is wonderful. He doesn’t need me to say it. Everything he touches is gold. There was class all around-- a welcome change from the "crass all around" Vegas environment. Leonardo Dicaprio was playing backgammon with Lukas Haas while we sipped fine wine and munched on perfect appetizers and chocolates. Everyone was dressed. Laughter and good conversation had replaced the head banging debauchery of sin city's strip. What happens in Vegas can stay in Vegas. Hopefully, it will not be exported anywhere else. What happened in LA may make me stay in LA next time I go.