Here you’ll find a few samples of my past work. After reading and being able to see what I’m bringing to the table, feel free to reach out.
Bringing a Dog to Las Vegas? Read This First
“The journey of life is sweeter when traveled with a dog.”
-unknown
Who, besides burglars or people trying to break into your home, doesn’t love dogs? On the cusp of entering middle age (my 40s, ugh), I can still remember, to this day, my first dog: Charlie. I was 6 and we were walking out of my weekly trip to Toys R’ Us (yes, I said weekly) and there was a shopping cart full of puppies parked right at the main entrance (evil strategy I tell you, but surprisingly effective). Being 6, of course I was immediately having a “oh my gosh mom look!!!” attack and i picked up one particular pot-bellied, blue eyed ball of cute that was reaching out towards me just begging to be picked up. And that sealed the deal…or maybe it was the fact that the family selling them was simply making sure they were going to a good home which, upon approval, agreed to give the would-be owners for free (if that isn’t extortion by utilizing TOYS R’ US CHILDREN FOR F*CK’S SAKE then I don’t know what is.
Fast forward to just a few years ago, Charlie lived a long life and he was very much the recipient of tons of love, attention, walks, and memories with first my parents and I, then, when we moved to Las Vegas and weren’t able to afford to bring him with us, the second part of his life was spent with my Aunt Allison back in California who, a few years back, had to tell us one night that Charlie had passed. Through many a sob and heavy-hearted tears, my aunt relayed details to us but out of all the nuances, we learned that she was with him and holding him until the end, especially when he burdened her heart with his last look up into her eyes with an expression that conveyed his unending love and appreciation for her but also the lingering glare expressing how tired he was and that he was ready to get some well-deserved rest.
My point (besides trying to make you cry) is that Charlie (and all the dogs I’ve had since then) were all taken into consideration as far as their well being went and were considered part of the family; they were taken into consideration for nearly any big event or activity that took place with the family; Charlie was family.
Including when decisions were made when his hoomans – Allison and her husband – were going out of town on a trip.
Similar to something like, oh I don’t know: you’re a family, or even just a couple and you’re planning a trip to Las Vegas and you’re considering whether to check your furry friend into a kennel at the vet, to see if they’ll cooperate and fit into a carrier case for pets and start doing research as to just how safe those cargo holds on an airplane are and if you’re dog will survive it, to book a pet sitter or (drum roll please) taking them with you on a Vegas Vacation on the long (or not-so-long) drive from home to the good ol’ 702 (and 725 apparently from what I’ve been seeing lately).
While bringing your fur child along with you as to avoid any fears of them being alone and confused without their family with them, I’m not here to rain on your parade about any thoughts of bringing them along. But I am here to present a few pros and cons of the reality of bringing them along on your trip to the 702.
So here’s my reality check with my pros and cons of bringing your furry friend along with you for the ride to dumping all your money into a slot machine, having a signature, movie franchise-worthy Vegas hangover, and getting solicited by escorts and other ladies of the night (hey, I promise it’ll happen to you at least once). Additionally, these are not listed in any particular rank or order.
- From a Google search “Is Vegas a good place for dogs?” I found the answer in another query of “Can dogs walk on the Strip?” And I discovered some facts even I was unaware of: You can walk your dog on the Strip between Sahara Rd and Sunset Rd from 5am to 12pm, but not after that or in the evenings.” Some personal experience on this one, however (sorry burst your bubble) but you, honestly, wouldn’t really want to walk your dog on the Strip anyway The Strip is, in all essence, basically just a playground for adults and, as with any other playground, there’s always some garbage or trash to be found when left unattended. While the Strip is tended to as far as any policing, landscaping, or other human detritus is concerned (i.e. the “ladies of the night”), you’re still going to find an overwhelming and overly abundant amount of actual garbage intermittently strewn across and/or gathered in certain places. That being said, the majority of this trash consists of discarded drinks and cocktail glasses, and not all of them are plastic and are, in fact, mainly comprised of broken, shattered, or fractured glass that can easily get stuck in one of Fido’s paws when walking the Strip, even if it’s just to take him for a walk and to get some fresh air. While I mentioned the above time window for walking your furry friend, including the precise locations that allow as such, overall the risk to your companion and the fact that there really isn’t a dog friendly area for them to play, run, sniff other dogs’ butts, and go potty just isn’t worth it and iis a huge reason why I’m of the opinion that the Strip is no place for dogs, on a leash or not, house broken or not.
- From a Google search “Are dogs allowed in restaurants in Las Vegas?” The answer to this one is short and sweet and will be a definite bubble-buster for anybody that was planning on bringing Fido along to your visit to The Cheesecake Factor or Brio Tuscan Grill for brunch: NO, dogs are not allowed in any restaurants at all for any reason, rain or shine. The only exception to this is if you have a licensed service animal. And even then it’s a bit dicey as you’re going to, without a doubt, earn the ire and stank eye from both restaurant staff and other dining room patron alike. So again: Vegas [and associated restaurants] are not encouraged to bring along with you!!!
- Next query that I thought up (just to prove a point that’s in alignment with a previous article outlining why dog owners need to wake TF up when they think it’s okay to walk their dogs during day time in the summer) was the question “is Vegas too hot for dogs?” This will probably be the only question in this listicle (yes, it’s a real word, look it up) will yield a “yes” to one of my queries done when getting my facts in order. And the answer to this question, like I said, is YES. During the summer months in Vegas, especially the “prime time” months such as June, July, and August (and thanks to climate change, even September and the first part of October), you can see day time temperatures at and in excess of 110 degrees, with the sun being most intense between 10am and 4pm. So ask yourself this question: if you think it’s too hot for YOU to walk barefoot on the sidewalk and just ground in general during the day time in summer months in Las Vegas, why the F*ck would you think it’s okay for a dog to walk around on the same ground with the same temperatures during the same time of day. If it’s too hot for you then common sense would dictate that your dog probably isn’t going to enjoy or let alone be too thrilled at all about taking a nice leisurely barefoot stroll across the surface of the sun either.
So there’s my top three arguments (based on both documented fact as well as personal opinion) as to why it would probably be best to board Fido for your trip or to look into hiring a dog-sitter while you and the clan (or the “boys” or the “girls” if it’s a bachelor/bachelorette party) come to Vegas to get crunk, stupid, and hyphy, hit the day clubs and pools, hit the nightclubs and bars, then let the previous night’s remnants of alcohol get soaked up by award-winning, noteworthy restaurants that you visit to help nurse you back to life from the previous night’s induced hangover.
Trust me, it’ll just be more stress than is necessary if you were to bring Fido or Bella with you than it would be to just board them into a kennel for the trip or hire a dog-sitter. That way you don’t have to worry about Fido humping your luxury suite’s 1000-thread count pillows to the point where the Red Rocket comes out and you end up losing your security deposit.
You can thank me later.
Stay safe out there kids.
Mikey
Las Vegas Is Changing (I Can Feel it, Can you?)
“There is nothing permanent except change.”
– Heraclitul
Don’t worry, this isn’t going to be one of those long-winded tales of harrowing survival when faced with challenging weather conditions and even more challenging distances traversed. You know, the kind where Grandpa — in a frantic bout of lucidity in the midst of the onset of dementia — proceeds to tell you how In order to get to [fill in any interchangeable destination here] he had to walk uphill, barefoot, in the snow, both ways (which I still can’t quite connect the dots on that one, but what do I know: I’m not grandpa). No, this is not going to be one of those stories…
At least, not so dramatic and dismissable because, as stated previously: I’m not grandpa, nor do I have any onset of dementia (that we know of).
But what I can tell you is that, as good ol’ Bob Dylan once [prophetically] belted out “times, they are a-changing” and what is taking place in Las Vegas is absolutely no exception to this fortune-telling lyric.
First, let’s tackle [to me] the most obvious indicator that Vegas is [physically] blowing up. Back when my family and I moved to Las Vegas from Walnut Creek, California, I distinctly remember that the edge of town, and also the [then] expanding and developing frontier of Summerlin ended (no, literally: ended) at the corner of Sahara and Ft. Apache. After that, it was just dust, dust, and more dust. For any locals reading this, I’m sure you’re laughing as we all know that that particular intersection is no longer the edge of any expanding frontier, but rather a place to bargain shop at a Dollar Tree, catch a movie at the Village Square 18 theater across the street, then grab some sushi or eat your feelings properly at the IHOP also located in the same shopping center. That frontier and edge of town? That has spread so far further up west as well as south that it’s just another intersection in the rapidly expanding, growing, and thickening [sub]urban sprawl we’re seeing taking place in Las Vegas and have been for quite some time. What’s different about what’s going on now though, in my humble opinion, is that the expansion taking place in the “what the f*ck that just popped up out of nowhere” fashion is accelerating at a record pace because with the several other facets of Las Vegas that are simultaneously growing, this includes the need for homes for the even greater influx of families and other career-minded individuals [with or without families in tow] that are finding employment here after obtaining one of the countless new job positions or opportunities that they happen to come across and either need to upgrade to a larger home (i.e. from apartment or condo to an actual house) or just need to find a home as a landing spot for when they touch down in the 702 as their new home for the new job they’ll be starting. In short, the property expansion that’s occurring in the realm of not only homes but also in businesses is taking place as it was before, but now, it’s like someone started it on a round of steroids and it shows no sign of stopping.
Next, let’s cover the phenomenon that, at the close of the past [locally hosted] Superbowl, my mother so aptly declared that Vegas was “officially on the map [as a legitimate city].” While I think it can safely be agreed upon by just about everybody that lives here that saw what effect that event has had on the city as far as the mass influx of tourists, revenue [including tax revenue] and the creation of countless jobs that were in need of being filled with the qualified applicants [immediately], yes, Las Vegas now being on the roster of cities that can host an NFL game up to, and including, an event with such magnitude of the Super Bowl, there is a dense litany of additional events we are now home to that are each bringing their own, respective, influxes of revenue, tax revenue, jobs that need to be filled, tourists (numbering in countless droves), and overall notoriety that are doing nothing but adding more fuel to the fire of the conflagration that is the growth of this city burn even brighter and are all contributing to this change in the entire landscape of what Las Vegas looks like [compared to what it used to look like] and that, I feel, is a change that, for some reason, nobody else seems to be talking about [except for me. Because if you’ve read any of my other pieces, you’ll know that yes – I will talk about it, I will “go there.” Because I live there. I bought a house there. But I digress].
Among this still-increasing stream of events that now call Las Vegas home, here’s just a few of the events that we are now host to:
- Electric Daisy Carnival
- National Finals Rodeo
- Glittering Lights
- March Mayhem
- Vegas Pride
- Formula 1 Grand Prix
- The Big Game (an NFL Viewing Party)
- Vegas Showdown (an early-season Division 1 college basketball tournament)
- Life is Beautiful
- Monster Jam World Finals
- Las Vegas Market – Summer
- Transfix
- Enchant Las Vegas
If that’s not unprecedented growth, compared to the edge of town being Sahara and Ft. Apache, then I don’t know what is.
Finally we come to, what I believe to be, the most poignant sign that this city is undergoing some sort of metamorphosis that is proving to be astronomically pricey and, to add insult to injury, is appearing to be at the expense of the countless residents that call Las Vegas home and have done so for over two decades and who originally moved here because of the (at the time) unbelievable night-and-day difference of what it simply just costs to live in Las Vegas compared to whatever original city they had left behind to try and stake out a new life in the 702.
Some of the price differentials that immediately come to mind, for me, such as the price of gas (I remember I used to be able to fill up my tank in my first car – a ‘97 2-door Honda Civic – for just barely over $20, often-times less than that) are incidentals that I will acquiesce as, starting with September 11th and the effects that this entire nation felt, nearly instantaneously, things that just couldn’t be helped (and most likely will continue to be in this category at the rate that the players on the world stage are acting out, but that’s another article). However, I remember the entire reason that, along with my mom, dad (and our soon to be added member of the family, a pure-bred basset hound by the name of Arty) had for making the move from the Bay Area to Las Vegas was the overall cost of living, both in taxes and every day expenses but, especially, in the prices and costs of homes and the value that you would get for the price that you’d pay. And, coming from said Bay Area, anybody reading this that has lived or currently lives up there will absolutely agree and know what I’m talking about as the price of homes, be it to rent or buy and own out-right is still so ridiculously expensive [compared to what you actually get] that they might as well be asking you to sacrifice your first born child as a down-payment in a multiple-offer situation where, if you want to stand a chance at actually having your offer considered, you might want to throw in sacrificing your second born offspring just as a good-faith measure so you are coming in well above asking price.
That dream-life of renting a 2 story, 3-bedroom, 2.5 bath house with 1,459 square ft. (which is where we moved into after waving goodbye to Cali and waving hello to Clark County) is now, I’m guessing (hey I can only surmise on this one as I’m no longer in the real estate field and no longer have access to the exhausting and extensive backlogs and history of data of all things real estate in Las Vegas) nowhere close to what my mom and dad were eagerly and gratefully paying in rent every month compared to whatever that same house is probably costing some poor family present day. Here’s just one figure that should drive this point home that I was able to verifiably dig up to prove my point here.
Ten years ago, the average price for a home in Las Vegas was clocked in at being around $204,000.
Ten years later, today, the average price for a home for sale in Las Vegas is coming in around $415,731. And that figure is as fresh and recent as just last month.
With this recent statistic as to the average price of a home being as [I hope] shocking as it is, coupled with the earlier points of argument I referenced earlier, the most important thing that’s changing about Las Vegas that, I’m ashamed to admit is not being investigated, reported on, or explored further by any media or news entity is the fact that the change that Las Vegas is currently undergoing is, indeed, going to change the entire landscape of the city. Not just cosmetically or in new additions to the pretty stream of lights that make up the city skyline when you go and park your car somewhere up around Far Hills and the 215 or Summerlin Parkway and the 215, where you’re able to see just about every twinkling light across the entire valley, but mainly are able to see the city skyline (the Strip skyline) in its entirety, from one end to the other, new properties and old(ish) ones alike. The change is [and has been] coming and, if my guesswork and theories are correct, is going to completely change the type of demographic you’re going to see that will comprise the population of Las Vegas as it will literally be wiping the slate clean from those who came before. Before the Raiders and Allegiant Stadium and the other slough of events listed above that have already begun to bring a fresh onslaught of tourists and lookie-loos and bachelor parties and football/hockey/basketball/baseball events and viewing parties and just over all all those people that are coming to get white-girl wasted now that Vegas is “on the map” (thanks mom) or even to the type of individual you’ll encounter in whatever influx of new residents we’re going to see moving here for work, whether they’re transferring within their current employer or are moving here in light of accepting a new position they accepted with a new employer.
So whether you want to cite the first point of the expansion on steroids taking place where [to me] it’s becoming painfully obvious that developers are running out of land to build shit on and, thus, resulting in those “new” three story apartment complex developments you’re seeing springing up all over the place (which, let’s be honest, 3-stories is just the start as they’ll continue to get higher and higher as the people continue to show up as new residents looking for that new home to match that sparkling new job they got with that sparkling new “welcome to the team” bonus in the state that has no income tax). Or if you’re relocating from Oakland to Las Vegas just so you can be the most Raider-Nation fan that ever Raider-Nation’d.
Whatever the reason, it doesn’t take away from the fact that we’re seeing (but not noticing) the real change that’s taking place in Las Vegas right now:
Out with the old, and in with the new.
Kinda makes you feel cheap, used, discarded, and no longer relevant doesn’t it?
There’s some food for thought folks.
Till next time.
-Mikey-
“I don’t have a drinking problem…’cept when I can’t get a drink.”
– Tom Waits
Arizona – 2am
Colorado – 2am
Hawaii – 2am (4am in Waikiki)
Idaho – 1am
Michigan – 2am
California – 2am
Delaware – 1am
Alaska – 5am
….Nevada: NONE
What am I listing off? Ladies and gentlemen, the times above are the times that “last call” is announced in each of the states listed, respectively. What is last call? Last call is this [in my opinion] absolutely crazy practice where there’s a set time that establishments, such as restaurants, bars, and nightclubs) are required, by law, to announce that, in lamens’ terms, if you want another drink, now’s the time to order it because after that, no more alcohol will be served and, subsequently, it also announces the fact that said establishments will be closing and ending business for the night.
While this practice is pretty much the norm across the majority of the country, Nevada stands out as one of the few states that have absolutely no mandate or law that requires alcohol to stop being served past a certain time. Being a Vegas resident since I was 9 years old, suffice it to say that not only did I grow up here, but after being here for so long, I believe I technically qualify as a native now. That being the case and being the retired rule-breaking, sneaking out of the house scheming little delinquent that I was, of course I spent $200 on fake ID. Once that was purchased, an entire world opened up to me that, considering the fact that starting at my first rave when I was 16, I felt like I had just graduated to the adult raves which were undoubtedly much more fun with places like my absolute favorite club that I was brought to by friends at which I instantly fell in love with the now long extinct venue “Ice.” After that, adding Empire Ballroom to the list of where to find me invariably every weekend was a recipe for lots of things like making new friends, seeing some of the biggest and legendary names in the EDM scene and yes, I won’t even try to deny it: lots of drinking accompanied by an even larger amount of drugs (just keepin’ it real. That’s my story and I have ZERO shame about it).
Anyway, what I’m getting at is this. I grew up in this club scene and then later I added bars to the mix and I never even stopped to ponder, acknowledge, or recognize the countless occasions where I would order a shot [Stoli Vanilla chilled please] or another cocktail [Stoli Vanilla and Diet Coke please] and then check the time on my phone or watch and see that it was often times sometime after the sun had come up. And that, my friends, is the point I’m bestowing on you so that you can appreciate what I didn’t at the time and just took for granted because after said argument of my status as a native at this point, I never experienced any other night life or bar scene where we all had a collective groan towards the bartender when they announced “Last call.”….BECAUSE WE DON’T HAVE ONE!!! From every club, bar, lounge, ultra lounge, bartop mounted poker machine and beyond, one of the things I’ll always remember most vividly is that the drinks kept coming, one after the other, without stop. Even if it was 7am. The booze just never stopped.
So you can imagine the reaction I had when I first learned of the practice of this “last call” atrocity that was always explained to me when I began learning of its existence. While I’m not going to go into vivid recall or detail of the astonished patrons who were in disbelief that the club we were partying at kept on slinging drinks out as the music from the DJ continued to play with no end in sight. Myself and my friends were well aware that it was simply 2am, and the dancefloor and the set from whatever DJ was playing was just starting to really get good. Yet meanwhile, around us, the tourists and those people who, as a native, you can clearly immediately pick out of the crowd as the look on their faces was a combination of disbelief that the party showed no end in sight as well as confusion because they could all be seen standing around with a look on their face like some awful thing was about to happen which, subsequently, also explained why they were rounding up everyone in their crew because they were almost literally waiting on pins and needles for the announcement in question.
You’re probably wondering at this point “okay yeah and?” But the point I’ve been leading up to is this. Yes, there’s the absence of a last call event to go down at any bar/lounge that was gaming as well as the part where the clubs here stay open and are rockin’ with the club-influenced shenanigans until the wee hours of the morning (far beyond the common 2am mark that one will find if you examine last call times from state to state across the US. And if you’re new to Vegas or are a tourist, this may seem like the coolest thing in the world. However, having lived here my whole life, I can absolutely and with 100% confidence tell you that the no last call feature is actually one of the things that, I believe, serves as a recipe for a disaster and the only effect it has is a negative one. Why?
Because in any other major city in any of the states across the US, that last call event is the reason why the majority of inhabitants of each city that has a job is able to keep that job because if you’re told that last call is at 2am and that if you want another drink, now’s the time to do it as closing time is approaching and that after this next drink, the bar’s closing up shop for the night and serving alcoholic beverages is about to cease for the night. So after that last drink, what do you think is the typical next move for the bar/club patrons. That’s right: THEY GO HOME.
And once home that means they can get undressed, wind down, get some sleep, and still make it to work the next day.
Unfortunately, I have been witness to the exact opposite happen here countless times. Myself being one of these poor schmucks that had been gambling and drinking all night, followed by me stumbling out of the bar/lounge at around 8:30am, completely dirt ass cheap broke, wasted to the 1,000th degree, and trying to get my head right because I had to come up with a story right on the spot about why I would be missing work that day. Because when you live in a city with no last call or other agendas that serve as preventative measures towards its inhabitants for them to enjoy nightlife in all its manifestations, you eventually and gradually fall prey to Last Call’s absence and wind up living the exact situation I just described: walking to your car and driving home completely shit-faced and lit like a firework and unable to go to work that day. Don’t get me wrong: yes I’m sure this has happened to many people at least once….
Once…
Then there are others who, like me, unfortunately have a bit of a self-control problem where the word “no” gets eliminated from your vocabulary after drink number five or six and then the cover stories for why you’re missing work that day start to get played out and you end up losing your job.
So, in closing and the point I’m trying to make is that while no last call is great and exciting as well as usually being Instagram worthy when it comes to tourists who are here to party and get White Girl Wasted. For those of us who live here, no last call could be what seals the deal on whether or not you get to keep your job and forces you to develop some self-restraint as well as an equal part sense of discipline. Because regardless of the fact that it almost seems like this whole system and practice is designed for you to fail, the responsibility still lies on our, the consumer’s, shoulders because the responsibility is absolutely our’s. It’s easy. All you have to do is say no, thank you, tip your bartender, and go home where you can shower, get in bed, go to sleep, and still hang on to that job when you’re due to clock in tomorrow morning at 9am.
That’s WAY more fun than trying to remember which story you’ve used already when talking to your boss while you’re PRAYING that they not only believe you, but that you haven’t pulled an almost identical stunt too close to calling out like you’re doing right now because you hate the whole mad dash scramble to find another job when the one you were already at was actually really good money and you like working there. Because, first hand experience here, it sucks to be let go of a job you actually like and then have to immediately follow that up with a mad dash to get hired somewhere.
Jesus Christ I’m so glad I don’t drink or go out anymore.
Stay safe out there kids.
Till next time
Mikey
“Checked into the hotel, checked out of reality.”
-unknown
Have you ever seen a commercial pertaining to a particular subject matter that you happened to be exponentially familiar with, only to erupt in outrage and disgust as the commercial made this, varying in ways, much more complicated and intricate that the commercial was portraying it to be? Like a dramatic scene from some cable TV medical drama where a complicated brain surgery is taking place and the head honcho doctor (of course being played by the show’s main actor) executes the surgery quickly, with little extraneous events or details complicating things which, then, fast forwards to telling the family that the patient is out of surgery and doing fine when you know that in real life, there were a million smaller little parts that go along with that kind of situation. And then the result is you just being annoyed that they made it look so easy with no complications and the patient and family live happily ever after and you’re just sitting on your sofa rolling your eyes so hard that it’s audible as you exclaim “that’s bullshit. Everybody knows it’s way more complicated.”
Such is my experience seeing any of the myriad of commercials advertising hotel rooms and any associated experiences you can have when you come to visit Las Vegas. The most recent ones (at least to my memory) were the commercials I saw for The Cosmopolitan. Don’t get me wrong, The Cosmo is probably my absolute favorite property on the entire Las Vegas Strip – and, keep in mind, I’m 39 and my family and I moved here when I was only 9. I’ve seen my fair share of properties and hotel/casinos all across the city. But despite Cosmo (now that I think of it, every property that comprises City Center) being my favorite property, I still harbor the same jaded frustration and annoyance with all the commercials showing the fun part of staying in a Las Vegas hotel and not what it takes to actually get booked in a Las Vegas hotel room. More importantly, the financial resources (aka, money) that it takes to be able to stay in a hotel room like The Cosmo’s rooms (which, if you haven’t experienced one yet, let this article be your wake up call to do so and rectify this immediately).
Keeping this in mind, I did some digging as to what one might encounter when trying to book a hotel room in Las Vegas so you, dear reader, will have a better concept of what you need to bring to the table in the first phase of your Las Vegas trip: booking your hotel room.
I want to, first, lay a ground work concept for you before I go into pricing specifics and the platform/apps that came up in my search. Fact number one to be aware of when deciding what dates to visit Las Vegas and where you’re going to stay: hotel rooms are notoriously and outlandishly cheaper during the week than they are during the weekends. This is because Fridays and Saturdays are the hotels’ big money days as most tourists are coming here over a weekend and all at once. With that much competition from unsuspecting vacationers due to the sheer volume of people that flood the city with their Vegas Vacation-ness, they’re basically able to jack up the price so that the highest bidder will end up being the one who gets the room. But this room, if you were to do some research and price-shopping, can be found with all the same features, amenities, and service features during the regular days of the week at usually a fraction of the cost of the same room during aforementioned weekend days. You still with me? Okay great, because here’s what I discovered on my little fact-finding and checking mission:
The date I selected as my hypothetical booking date was Thursday January 30, 2025 and I used this date across the four most relevant apps/websites that popped up in my search results (aka, the were the top returned results when I went to compare). So for this little R&D session, I compared our hypothetical date on HotelTonight, Expedia, Kayak, and TripAdvisor.com. Here’s what I found:
- HotelTonight: The two best priced rooms on this one was at 4 Queens for $39 and Virgin Hotels Las Vegas for $38
- Expedia: We had much better luck as far as selection goes. Here we had Luxor Hotel & Casino for $32, Planet Hollywood for $29, Flamingo Las Vegas for $23, Linq Hotel & Experience for $23 and The Strat for $21. Crazy right?
- Kayak: This was comparatively short as their prices were a bit higher than the other yielded results. Despite this, I still found a room at Harrah’s for $25.
- TripAdvisor.com: Fourth and final set of results yielded rooms at The Excalibur for $26, Rio Hotel & Casino for $24, Harrah’s Hotel & Casino for $14, and The Strat for $17.
Didn’t think you could lock down a hotel reservation for those prices did you? If you don’t believe me try looking up room rates on a weekend day (i.e. Friday or Saturday). For the same hotels listed above, the weekend rate will be exponentially higher than aforementioned prices.
As for the winner out of all this and has my endorsement and promotion for the app/site that yielded the best and lowest price on a room, looks like Harrah’s is the winner as, seen above, they dug up a room [ON the Strip] for only $14. Yes you read that right: $14.
Final note to also keep in mind is that yes the actual room rates may be dirt cheap (especially that Harrah’s Hotel & Casino rate for $14) that does not include other fees that the hotel charges like the security/incidentals deposit (which is usually between $50 and $200) or the resort fee they’re able to get away with charging you due to the fact that they’re considered “major” hotels and are located on The Strip.
Hopefully this will be of use to you to refer to next time you’re booking that impromptu weekend in Vegas with the girls/boys for that bachelor/bachelorette/just “going to get f*cked up and get your gambling addiction fed” event and you’re trying to figure out what days to book and on which apps/websites.
Stay safe out there.
Mikey 😉
Are You A Wooo Girl? A Brief List of What [Not] To Do in Las Vegas – The Ladies Edition
“The world absolutely needs Woo Girls! If there were no Woo Girls, there would be no Girls Gone Wild, no bachelorette parties, no Las Vegas poolside bars. All the things you hold dearest Lily, would be gone.”
– Barney Stinson, How I Met Your Mother
If there was ever a phrase or piece of verbiage from such an unexpected place – such as a sitcom – that was ever so, inadvertently, 100% accurate about something you actually knew to be true and that actually was a real life phenomenon, the terminology of a “woo girl” from How I Met Your Mother, without competition, takes the number one spot.
For those of you who don’t know what a “woo girl” is, I did some digging (thanks Google) and found some more articulate verbiage than me just spewing out random definitions as I see it:
“A Woo Girl is a character in How I Met Your Mother who is a single woman who enjoys partying and is known for shouting ‘Wooooo!!!’ “
Still need some clarification? Here’s this one:
“[It] is a term used to describe someone who is overly excited at a bar or can be identified by the ‘woo!’ sound they make on [How I Met Your Mother].”
Now that that’s out of the way, let’s all agree that we all have either witnessed this phenomenon (especially if you’re a local like me) or you’ve been the one to make aforementioned noise (which, if this is the case, shame on you). And while this is all too often witnessed [or perpetrated], this, simultaneously, does not make it okay to its continued occurrence. That being said, here’s a brief list of other, equally “not okay” things to be guilty of on your trip to Las Vegas [the Ladies Edition].
- Wear Stilettos – contrary to popular belief, Las Vegas (the Strip in particular) is spread out. That being said, walking from one location (a casino/hotel) to the next, or even on a smaller level (like from one end of the club to the other as you drunkenly try to find your equally drunk friends), can prove to be absolute murder on your feet. So do yourself and your footsies a favor and wear shoes that aren’t murder on your pinkie toe – flats, wedges, pumps, etc.
- Do NOT Underestimate The Weather – Simple math people: Las Vegas = DESERT. With this in mind, it can get hot here during the days in summer months really fast. So make sure to abide by this warning and come prepared: stay in the shade, stick to indoor activities, or if you’re trying to save money from the atrocious cost of a simple bottle of water from one of the big casinos, bring a thermos or refillable water bottle of some kind with you. Trust me: heat stroke is not fun and it is NO JOKE.
- Do NOT buy drinks from casino bars or gift shops – Sure it seems super convenient as you only need to walk about 30 to 50 feet from one drink stand, pop up bar, or casino gift shop to the next as this eliminates having to actually go into said casino to find the closest gift shop. What most tourists and out-of-towners don’t know is that all the aforementioned gift shops or drink stands and mini-bars charge an outrageous and unjustifiably SKY HIGH price for even just a bottle of water. Give your budget some breathing room and, instead, hold off on buying drinks until you come across a Walgreens, CVS, or something similar. These retailers offer not only whatever it is you’re thirsty for (alcoholic and non-alcoholic) but they are also selling them at an equally outrageous lower price.
- Do NOT walk around the Strip with no shoes on. First of all, many don’t stop to think about this but the floors everywhere on the Strip (especially those outside) are ridiculously dirty. While walking barefoot in said dirt and grim are reason enough in and of itself, there’s a VERY large risk of cutting those bare feet on shards of broken glass from the other Woo Girls up ahead of you who are at “that level” drunk that they’re just tossing their empty cocktails glasses onto the ground, resulting in a trip to the nearest Urgent Care for you when you’d rather be at “that level” as the other girls up ahead of you are. Additionally, along with the broken glass hazard, there’s other unmentionables that I will mention here that I’m sure you didn’t stop to think about: the spilled alcohol from the aforementioned broken cocktail glasses and, even better, vomit. Between the broken glass, the spilled, liquor, the disgusting and dirty ground, and now puke, I’m hoping this is ample reason for you to not be THAT girl that’s walking the Strip at 3am barefoot with feet black as my soul shouting “Wooooo Vegas” all the way up until you step in some broken glass, then slip on the spilled glasses’s contents and then landing in the associated pile of throw up next to it. Yeah, don’t be THAT girl. You’re welcome.
- Last but MOST importantly: NEVER NEVER EVER accept random drinks from random strangers. This may seem common sense, but you’d be surprised by how many girls are totally okay with this. And you’d be equally surprised by the number of times I’ve heard the story of “I don’t know what happened. This really cute guy came up to me and offered me a drink. We went back to his table and the last thing I remember is making out with him. Next thing I know I woke up in some strange hotel room with no idea how I got there.” And if this is, indeed, where one ends up, it’s safe to bet that more happened to you while you were unconscious. And I’m not just over-exaggerating or making a stink about something that “could never happen to you.” I’m speaking from sort-of first hand experience as I had a friend who was completely comatose and unconscious that I had to go rescue from a big hotel & casino off the Strip who was only able to mutter my name for security to successfully find me in her phone and call me, informing me of what happened and that she was blacked out in a wheelchair. The next morning, when she woke up in a panic as she didn’t know where she was (the guest room of the house my then-partner lived in) and an equally blacked out memory of how she got there. So as I said: NO DRINKS FROM STRANGERS.
While I’m sure that you’ll find other items listed on additional searches on Google, but these are the top 5 that I’d impart on any tourists, soon-to-be-tourists, and especially for all you Woo Girls out there. You can WOOOOO all you want. Just do it safely please. Don’t be your bachelorette party’s “Karen.” Nobody likes even Wooo Karens.
Stay safe out there.
Mikey 🙂
Summer is Ending and I’m Beside Myself with Excitement
(Another Op-Ed Piece by Mikey)
Ever have one of those relatives that you thought was full of shit? You know. The kind that would regale you with stories and tales of varying subjects but there’d always be that moment when the tale being told took a hard left into the realm of “yeah right” or, to be more precise, the realm of “you’re full of shit.”
And so it was with my Uncle Jason. This was eighteen million lifetimes ago and back when he was the first of our family to relocate to Las Vegas from our current home in Walnut Creek, California. One particular memory that has stayed with me over the decades is one occasion where, after having moved to Las Vegas, my Uncle was visiting us back in California and was telling us all about the “craziness” of Las Vegas weather. After telling us some [in hindsight] wack ass story about how it would rain and there’d be not a cloud in the sky, he shifted to the topic of the heat and what it was like during the summer months. I don’t remember the exact verbiage that was used, but at the time being 9 years old, I remember the way he was describing Vegas in the summer had me envisioning a cityscape that was engulfed in flames with the rippling tides of desert-heat induced mirages blanketing the entire city. ANd then, as if his “Las Vegas is the equivalent of hell” description wasn’t enough, he finished the story by telling us that it was so hot in the summer, you could get a nosebleed from the heat out of nowhere and without warning. Needless to say, I remember thinking to myself that I never wanted to move, let alone visit, a city that gives you nosebleeds and is the equivalent of being in Hell, just with gaming machines chiming all over the place and over-the-hill, boobs sagging to the ground cocktail waitresses trying to get you to order a cocktail so you could get drunk and continue to feed all your money into a machine that will give you nothing in return. But I digress.
The point I’m getting at is that when my uncle was describing Las Vegas summer to us, I thought he was full of shit (this particular uncle, unfortunately, usually was). However, a short time after this horror story of Las Vegas weather was regaled to us, at nine years old we ended up moving to the 702. Now, at the age if 38, I can confidently say that my uncle was not making shit up and that the summer in Las Vegas is one of the worst things on the fucking planet. I’ve heard people from different parts of the country try and argue with me or tell me that the summer weather where they’re from is worse because it has a humidity factor. Unfortunately for them, I’ve accurately deduced that they’re full of shit. The summer months in Las Vegas are so God awful that every year during the summer months, I actually have to strategically time when I step outside to smoke a cigarette because, if you step outside at the wrong time, the cigarette isn’t even enjoyable anymore and you end up getting a double dose of “fuck you!” from the summer because of the imminent heat stroke and the cigarette that is no longer enjoyable and tastes like death and you are counting the seconds until you can go back inside. And what’s worse [and this is the part that’s going to piss all of you nay-sayers off that don’t believe in climate change] I remember what summer was like when we first moved here. Yes, it was brutal. Yes, it felt absolutely unbearable. But one of the reasons I’m so thrilled that summer, this time around, is over is that this past summer of 2023, if my memory serves me correctly was, by far, the most disgusting, grueling, insufferable, unbearable, oppressive, soul-crushing, hotter-than-the-surface-of-the-sun summer that I’ve ever had to experience and suffer through in all my time in Las Vegas. It was so bad that I actually had to change my smoking schedule. And since you, dear reader, and I aren’t friends or familiar with each other’s vices, you would know that nothing would get in the way of my Newport 100 smoke break. And I mean nothing. This time around, however, I actually had to look up the day’s forecast and what temperature would be peaking at what time of day and then plan my cigarette accordingly. Because while you, sometimes, absolutely need that injection of nicotine into your system, sitting on my patio in the middle of the day with sweat pouring off you just made the whole thing absolutely not worth it.
One last thing I feel the need to address before I provide some scientific numbers and figures that were recorded this past summer so you know I’m not just making this shit up. And this next one is aimed at every single one of you out there that owns a dog and/or you consider yourself a dog lover. I know that the ideal time to walk your dog is during the day. And I know that based on past experiences, like many of you having lived in other cities [with different climates and weather patterns and numbers of the heat on desert days being a fraction of what they are here] the vast majority of you that take your dogs out for a walk in the middle of the afternoon on a Sunday in July probably were thinking you and Fido were having the time of your life and he was having a field day peeing on every bush he could find. And to this, I want all of you to know that if I could reach through this article and deliver a swift, sharp, huge red hand-print leaving mark on your face I would do so in a heart beat and then do it again for good measure. Why? Because unlike us humans who have the luxury of being able to wear shoes when we go out on walks when it’s 112 degrees outside, dogs DO NOT. There are a great many things in this world that I have either seen or continue to see on an unfortunately regular basis. However, being the mature, refined, poised and classy person that I am (insert laughing so hard you cry here) I’ve learned to just keep my mouth shut and to forget about it or, if it warrants the following reaction, I at least wait until the idiots in question are out of ear-shot so I can talk shit about them and have them not be able to defend themselves as I tear them to pieces. But this next phenomenon takes the absolute cake that, without fail during every summer, has me wanting to walk up to each dog owner that is walking their dog in the 112 (ONE HUNDRED AND TWELVE) degree heat and not stopping for one second to give any fucks that maybe that boiling hot asphalt or that cement on the sidewalk is so hot that it’s giving off those wavey flumes that are supposed to be kept in children’s books when a tail from India or somewhere else that’s similar where the desert is so hot that the book’s hero falls prey to a mirage. Haven’t figured it out yet? I’m talking about that poor soul you’re taking for a walk in temperatures that the weather man on the news is telling US to stay out of. That’s right: your dog.
Every summer it’s the same ol’ routine that while yes, I’ve gotten used to, it still doesn’t mean that i enjoy it or that, as I said before, I have to strategically plan my cigarettes or when I go out to check the mail because, as the Millenials say #Icant. And in the primary months of said same ol’ summer, every year without fail, I see the same thing that pisses me off into every fucking color of the rainbow: dog owners out walking their dogs in 110 degree and higher heat with absolutely no concern for the poor pup that is without a doubt burning his poor, soft little padded paws with every step he/she takes. And while there have been glimmers of hope here and there due to the fact that every now and then I see an owner walking their pup and the pup has (and yes they are as adorable as this is about to sound) little shoes on!!! Seriously, every now and then I see a dog out on a walk with his owner and he couldn’t be happier with his or her little booties on, covering their feet. And to top it all off, the walk these dogs have officially turns into a happy strut and you can just tell this dog feels like the best dressed kid on the first day of school. So every now and then, I see this little boost of happiness to know that these dogs’ owners are aware of the fact that if they wouldn’t want to be walking barefoot on asphalt in 112 degree summer heat, your dog probably wouldn’t either. But that being said, the owners that DON’T implement this practice in doggy fashion that doubles as protection from the heat, KNOW about this as it’s been seen by myself for several summers now and they still aren’t equipping their pups with this foot saving doggy fashion item. Ever hear that saying “when you know better, do better.” Yeah, exactly. So, ultimately, this particular sight every summer has me wanting to devise and implement some sort of law that, after an thorough assessment of one’s doggy care practices and procedures, BANS some people from owning a pet. Because, and I have absolutely no shame or hesitation in stating this as I am the proud owner of a gigantic, over-affectionate, treat loving, follows-me-everywhere-I-go kitty named Max who I protect from everything an owner should protect their pet from when they can’t do it themselves or don’t know any better, but these careless pet owners in question should be legally banned from the privilege of owning a pet as some things are so basic and a no-brainer as far as proper care for your animal yet they completely fail to put these into practice even with others setting the example and doing so right in their face. Suffice it to say, while there’s a ton of shit and aspects that I absolutely detest about the summer months in Vegas, this last one with these brain-dead pet owners that i want to suckerpunch in the genitals ias my number one gripe about why I hate summer in Vegas so much and why I’m so relieved that it’s at an end as doggies everywhere can go for walks again and not have to worry about having third degree burns on their feet by the time the walk is over and they return home.
In closing, given everything I just said, you can surmise at this point that I am an avid animal lover (specifically mine because my cat is just the best little creature to ever exist in the history of cats). So if you’re one of the aforementioned idiots taking your dog out for a walk without a care in the world for their safety when its 112 degrees out (or higher) and you think that they’ll be fine, I need you to do two things. One – ask yourself if you’d be fine and if you’d enjoy taking a walk in that heat wearing absolutely no shoes And two – make sure you stay far far away from me. Like far enough that you’re completely out of eye sight because if I see you and you’re doing this to your dog, chances are you’ll be going home minus one dog but sporting a freshly sore punch in the genitals.
On that note: Happy No More Summer Everyone!!!
Stay safe out there. 🙂
Mikey
Words by Mikey 