Vegas Vibin’: Three Days of Downright Debauchery in Sin City

(Photo: Grant Cai)

Saturday, 6:20 p.m. — My plane touches down at McCarran International Airport. I text the other two, who are already at the hotel, to let them know I’ve finally landed. The hunt for an Uber begins.

Some years ago, as part of a school project, my youngest brother had to cobble together the hypothetical logistics of a vacation he would have liked to take in the future. At the time, he could think of nothing better than traveling across the country with his two older brothers to celebrate his eventual 21st birthday in southern California — San Diego, to be exact.

Upon learning of this imagined trip, I told him for years that we were actually going to do it. We were gonna fly out to San Diego (which, of course, in German means “a whale’s vagina”) and mark his most significant birthday yet by having ourselves a grand ‘ole time in the SoCal sunshine.

It was a joke. Kind of. But as his 21st got closer and closer, my resolve grew: we were going to do it. Well, we were going to do something, anyway. I told him we didn’t necessarily need to go to San Diego; we could take a trip wherever his little heart desired. Somehow, some way, we landed on Vegas. Yes, Sin City was going to be the one.

8:29 p.m. — Before I realize what I’ve done, my bank account is missing over $50 and the three of us are holding Jägerbombs in our hands. Seconds later, our glasses are empty. Out of nowhere, Dean Martin’s voice hits my ears: “Money… burns a hole in my pocket…”

8:42 p.m. — We cross the Strip and enter the iconic confines of Caesars Palace. The temptation to ask if Caesar really lived there is great, but we remain strong.

The unmissable sign for Caesars Palace rises like a beacon in the night

We had originally planned to head out to Nevada around the time of my brother’s actual birthday — Jan. 23rd — but things were still pretty locked down at that point, so putting off the trip for a bit longer seemed to be the best course of action. The slots would always be there to rob us blind no matter what time of year we went, after all.

Spring came, the vaccine rollout ramped up, and late May was starting to sound better and better. So we nabbed the plane tickets in early April and visions of Clark Griswold gallivanting around Sin City with Ellen and the kids in tow soon danced in our heads.

8:56 p.m. — Another round of drinks in hand, we take in the enormity and grandeur that is the sports book at Caesars Palace. A group of gentlemen wearing matching floral rompers approaches the bar. I wonder, not for the first time, if I could pull one of those off. But then I think: perhaps it is a question better left unanswered.

After looking at various options, we settled on The LINQ Hotel + Experience for our accommodations. Found right across the street from Caesars Palace in the heart of the Strip, the LINQ appeared to be the perfect base of operations for our three-day excursion in Vegas. The hotel’s central location meant most everything we were looking to do in Sin City would be right at our fingertips.

When the LINQ says it is both a hotel and an experience, they are not joking. Aside from the sprawling casino floor, the numerous bars, and the second-floor pool area, there is quite literally an entire adult playground just waiting outside. An entertainment district known as the LINQ Promenade sits immediately to the south, playing host to restaurants like Gordon Ramsay Fish & Chips, Off the Strip, and Virgil’s Real BBQ; shops such as Pier 30 and I Love Sugar; and attractions like the Fly LINQ zipline and Vegas’ famous High Roller, the world’s tallest ferris wheel.

We didn’t stay at the Flamingo, but how could I pass up a photo opportunity like this?

Also within walking distance of The LINQ? The Flamingo Las Vegas Hotel & Casino, Harrah’s Las Vegas, and the Bellagio Hotel & Casino, among other gambling cathedrals for your money-blowing pleasure; the Forum Shops at Caesars and the Grand Canal Shoppes at The Venetian Resort for your shopaholic tendencies; and, of course, more dining options than you could possibly fathom what to do with.

11:38 p.m. — After stretching our dollars over two hours, our $300 group slot pull comes crashing to a miserable end at the hands of the Smokin’ Hot Stuff machine. We decide we’re finished gambling for the night — but little do we know: gambling is not finished with us.

1:30 a.m. — The spirit of Clark Griswold possesses our bodies. We suddenly find ourselves in The Mirage, pulling more money out of our wallets. Things are going to turn out different this time, we tell ourselves. We’re going to flip our bad luck on its head.

2:24 a.m. — The last of our cash goes poof, smoldering in a small pile of ash on the casino floor. And just like that… it’s time for bed.

We hadn’t really come to Las Vegas with much of a plan, truth be told. In my head, I mostly pictured us lying by the pool and sipping adult beverages by day, and then hitting the casino floor by night. When all was said and done, that’s pretty much what happened. But we did manage to get in a couple of tourist-y items, as well.

When we were looking into possible attractions to check out, my brothers both had places at the tops of their lists. For Nicholas, the would-be birthday boy, it was Madame Tussauds Las Vegas, where we could enjoy run-ins with the life-like waxy doubles of folks like Snoop Dogg, Beyonce, and Robert De Niro. For Ryan, the middle brother, it was Zak Bagans’ The Haunted Museum, described as “a bone-chilling experience that blends [Zak’s] cursed collection of curiosities with the true accounts of decade’s old malevolent hauntings and rituals that once took place inside the historic 1938 Wengert Mansion” in downtown Las Vegas. And who could forego an experience like that!

Sunday, 11:20 a.m. — We make our way down to the LINQ Promenade, getting Day 2 underway. The first order of business? Breakfast. Chayo Mexican Kitchen + Tequila Bar sounds like a winner. Put us down for three, please?

12:42 p.m. — Nearly 40 minutes after being seated, our table remains a wooden wasteland, devoid of food. I begin to think our waitress must have run off with an investment banker — until she materializes out of the gloom (and the rumbling of empty stomachs) and plops down three plates.

We checked both Madame Tussauds and The Haunted Museum off the list while in town, but if I’d done my homework, there are definitely a few other things I would have liked to do. One of them — the High Roller, which was literally right next to our hotel — has already been mentioned, but some others would include: The Neon Boneyard, an outdoor exhibit at the Neon Museum complex showcasing retired signs from around Las Vegas “for educational, historic, arts and cultural enrichment”; the Skypod and Observation Deck at The Strat, where you can take in a magnificent view of the city and give yourself heart palpitations by indulging in a handful of thrill rides more than 800 feet above the ground; and maybe even something like the gondola rides at The Venetian or the Big Apple Coaster at the New York New York Las Vegas Hotel & Casino.

The D Las Vegas, a proud supporter of Canadian beer apparently, is one of a handful of casinos contained within the Fremont Street Experience

One other experience I couldn’t stop thinking about while we were in Las Vegas was, of course, the damn dam tour. Fans of National Lampoon’s Vegas Vacation will recall Clark Griswold’s misadventures whilst visiting the Hoover Dam about 40 miles east of town. Touring the dam was the one extracurricular activity I had my eye on — but they were still on hiatus due to the pandemic. Knowing we wouldn’t be able to get the full experience, at least this time around, we decided to scrap it.

5:37 p.m. — After a few sun-dyed hours by the pool, Fremont Street, and The D Las Vegas in particular, calls to us. We head upstairs, change our clothes, and catch a cab toward downtown.

6:29 p.m. — The Little Shop of Horrors slot machine goes berserk, spitting out hundreds of dollars. It’s not enough to break even from the losses incurred the previous night, but it’s clear as day to all three of us: we’re back in the game, baby.

If there was one casino I didn’t want to miss, it was definitely The D Las Vegas — a Detroit sports-themed mecca in the heart of downtown. I had been hearing ads for The D on 97.1 The Ticket literally for years, and I wasn’t about to visit Sin City without making a detour there. Lucky for us, The D is found right in the middle of the Fremont Street Experience, a five-block entertainment district containing shops, restaurants, a zipline, and four cornerstone casinos (The D, Four Queens, the Golden Nugget, and The Fremont), all getting chummy with one another underneath a 1,375-foot-long video screen that plays free LED light shows every night of the week.

Our time on Fremont Street — which consisted primarily of regaining (and subsequently losing) our mojo at the slot machines, grabbing a cheap bite at a diner, and being mesmerized by the gargantuan video board overhead — hardly scratched the surface of the “Experience.”

A few of the things we didn’t get to? Taking in the enormity of the 78-million-pixel high-definition sports book screen at Circa Resort & Casino; getting a glimpse of the 200,000-gallon shark tank at the Golden Nugget; and sampling the craft beers on tap at Banger Brewing. (You can find a complete list of things to do on Fremont Street right here.)

Coming at you like a wrecking ball at Madame Tussauds Las Vegas

12:30 a.m. — We return to the LINQ after a long evening on Fremont Street and head upstairs to regroup. Someone floats the suggestion of going out to the club (whether or not that is even possible on a Sunday night amid a pandemic, none of us quite knows), but the pillows on our beds look just a little too inviting. The wild party animals we are, we call it a night.

I had a good time in Vegas — I think we all did — but I will remember the trip as much for the blur of shenanigans that were, as for the collection of experiences that weren’t. It’s not always possible to fit everything you want to do into your actual itinerary, but in this case, I barely even attempted putting an itinerary together. I guess maybe we all need a trip like that from time to time? Yeah, let’s go with that.

Whatever the case, I now have a fairly fleshed-out list of all the things I’d like to do on my next trip to Sin City, whenever that may be. My one wish? That the damn dam tour is back and running full steam ahead when that time comes.

-LTH

*P.S. Here are the time stamps from Day 3 that I didn’t manage to fit up above (because I know your life would be incomplete without them):

Monday, 10:51 a.m. — Breakfast sandwiches in hand, we make our way back to the pool area, hoping to get in as much sun as we can before hitting up the wax museum.

11:25 a.m. — Ryan and I challenge a pair of older guys (from Chicago, as it turns out) to a game of corn hole. It becomes readily apparent that the one named Rob is completely smashed. Rather than hamper his abilities, it seems to enhance them. A come-from-behind victory is necessary, but we make it happen.

3:43 p.m. — Back by the pool after our visit to Madame Tussauds, I realize a little rascal has made off with my Nike flip flops. Although irritating, I have to be slightly impressed with the thief’s gall, slipping them on, presumably, as I sat only a foot or two away.

5:16 p.m. — We arrive 16 minutes late for our 5 p.m. tour of Zak Bagans’ The Haunted Museum. No matter, we are soon inside, surrounded by possessed dolls, demonic furniture, and oddities of all kinds — including Dr. Kevorkian’s 1968 Volkswagen van.

8:30 p.m. — Ravenous, we return to the LINQ Promenade and promptly devour a healthy helping of In-N-Out Burger. Afterwards, we head upstairs to chill, but the itch to blow through every last dollar in our wallets soon takes hold.

11:43 p.m. — We donate the last of our cash to the LINQ, done in by my good pal Dean Martin (or at least his image and likeness plastered on a slot machine). We call it a night, and a vacation.