Some cities might give you 20/7 or 12/6 but only in Las Vegas do you get 24/7.
And because there’s so much time to fill, 365 days a year, you get the whole range. We’re the undisputed boxing capital, where, on any given night, you can catch the best pound-for-pound fighter in the world (“A Shot at the Top”) in defense of his undefeated record. We’re the place where a trio of classic rock heavyweights (“Hit Parade,” page 57) can throw down on the same stage, and where one iconic piano man (“Icon on the Ivories,” page 28) makes a Colosseum his home.
We’ve got Michelin-starred restaurants with memorable hostesses (Friends With Benefits), high-end beauty retailers hawking perfumes by tattooed reality stars (“It’s All Heavenly,” page 46) and, yes, even a few wedding chapels (“Saying ‘I Do”), including some without drive-through windows or Elvis impersonators.
Contrary to popular belief, there is also some culture to be found here, too, at the Bellagio Gallery of Fine Art (“Let There Be Light”), where one of the masters of impressionism (and 19th century art in general) is the subject of a stellar new exhibit. Not that we don’t play up our reputation as a party mecca—with Cinco de Mayo (“Fiesta, Spice and Everything Nice,” page 25) and the running of the Kentucky Derby falling on the same day this year, there’s bound to be a few margaritas and mint juleps making the rounds on May 5.
We also like to laugh, as evidenced by the recent influx of comedy clubs at a number of major resorts. Among the leaders of that pack is Cort McCown, whose Empire Comedy (“Building an Empire”) has just been installed in the intimate Napoleon’s lounge at Paris. McCown ran Playboy Comedy at the Palms for years and now is at the vanguard of a mini-Renaissance at the French-themed property. The Tulsa-born comic joins a Brit (Gordon Ramsay) and a Jersey boy (Frankie Valli) in what may be the most disparate of bedfellows the city has yet seen.
