Having brunch at Paris (after walking through Bally’s) was worth every penny.  Champagne was included and we taught that buffet a lesson.  Once again, it seems so odd to load up on breakfast food and throw in some crab legs and shrimp and other completely unrelated food for good measure.

We took a quick peek into the Aladdin casino, which for whatever reason is being converted to a Planet Hollywood casino.  Since almost every Planet Hollywood restaurant has been an utter failure (bad overpriced food will do that to you), I can’t believe the owners have enough capital to renovate a Vegas casino.  One of the guys in our group won $100 at a Super Jackpot Party slot.

At the MGM Grand, we got lucky and found the lions sleeping on top of the glass hallway that divides part of their habitat.  My thought, while looking up at their huge bodies, was this must be what some people’s last vision on earth is, right before they’re mauled to death.

The Hooter’s casino was everything I thought it would be, from the tacky wood paneling to the super casual atmosphere.  I’m sure that the place is supervised just like the others, but I did find it odd how casual the pit bosses appeared to be.  On the surface, it was almost as though they were not paying attention (at least at the craps tables), talking to others and not even looking at the tables they were assigned to.

Have just been 100 degrees the previous day, I was surprised that the pool at the Mirage was as cold as a pool in Michigan in late April.  To say my nips were perky was an understatement.  This was one of 2 places where the alcohol in the mixed drinks was almost non-existent.  The “Lucky 7” that we each had, looking like a bomb pop with its red, white and blue sections, had less alcohol than a mouthful of Listerine.

Decadence lay ahead for us at the Range restaurant at Harrah’s.  This meal summed up Vegas to a “T”.  I ordered an 8 oz filet mignon stuffed with crabmeat (the chunks, not the shredded stuff) which was topped cheese, then a large shrimp that was at least 6 inches long (there are adult catfish smaller than this prawn) on top of that and thin onion rings topping it off.  All of this was placed on a thin base of mashed potatoes.  I couldn’t have been fuller by meal’s end.  The Uber-Shrimp almost put me over the edge but I managed to fit it in.  It was going to take a LOT of alcohol for me to even feel any numbing sensation after filling up the tank like that...thankfully Vegas was up to the challenge.  Below is a shot of my innards about to burst after the meal.  The couch was also so comfortable I could barely get up.

Right after dinner we caught the water/light show at the Bellagio.  Impressive, very impressive.  I can imagine seeing this quite a few times before tiring of it.  They change the song for each performance too.

One thing I thought I wasn’t going to enjoy was going out to clubs that night.  I am not a club guy, I’m a pub guy, and I can’t tell you the last time I was at a club.  To its credit, Ghost Bar at the Palms wound up being a lot of fun.  Part of it was because of being with a fun group, part of it was the alcohol, part of it was getting there early enough where we didn’t have a line to wait, part of it was the scenery when we got up there, but most importantly, for the time we were there, the DJ played old school rap that I grew up on.  Is this now so retro it’s cool?  My mind was happily enjoying the Vegas scenery while being bombarded with classic tracks from the When Rap Was Good era from Eric B & Rakim, EPMD, Run DMC, Eazy E and the like.  This is the same place that housed the Real World when it was in Vegas and this was the bar they went to a lot.  It’s at the top of the casino and has a small part of the floor that is transparent plastic where you can look all the way down.  Unfortunately, it was so scuffed that it wasn’t really scary to peer down.

Making the night more enjoyable was how we wound up being the only group within this side section of the bar that looked like a VIP section but really wasn’t (at least not for that night).  To get to it you had to walk past the $600-minimum reserved tables so even we at the time assumed it was also roped off.  A "mobbed-up" looking guy was sitting back there but we found out it wasn’t reserved for him or anyone else.  There was no line for drinks, since there was another bar in there and my friend Jason, who is tall and was wearing a black t-shirt, began to stand in the front of the opening to the room as if he were a bodyguard.  Guys would walk by, see him standing there as if there were a VIP in the room, and walk away to another section of the bar.  Even more amusing was when he went to pee and one of the normal guards “took over” his station, guarding our fake VIP group from intruding onlookers.  Prior to this, Jason spread the word that Cuba Gooding Jr. was in the “VIP” room (Dom has been mistaken for him often) and he would like their presence and several groups of girls fell for it (dummies).

One predictable thing that happened at the club was one time I was in the bathroom line and the guy in front of me waited for the one toilet stall to become available instead of using the urinal.  When in a club, this isn’t because a guy has a shy bladder.  It usually means he’s about to snort some booger sugar.  It was so blatant I was amused, since you don’t see that often in the brewpubs and pubs that I frequent.

We wound up the night at Jet, the club at the Mirage but nothing really memorable happened there.  On Monday I’ll give my overall impressions of this strange land plopped in the middle of the desert.  And once again, not everything that happened needs to be written about, photographed, or recorded.  All that I've written here is all the public needs to know.  What I've written the past few days isn't my normal writing style and I apologize if it sounds like a damn diary.  Vegas is hard to describe without being incriminating.  Blame the alcohol.