Welcome to Vegas
Come in from the balcony, honey! It’s time for my massage, chop-chop. That’s one of the benefits of staying at the Hooters Hotel Casino – each room comes with a complimentary Hooter Girl. Really! Well, no.
This is just the photograph that graces the inside of the elevator doors, insuring either awkward silence or fratboy sniggering among your elevation companions on every ride.
Why am I at Hooters, you ask? The short version is that I’m in Vegas to help update the annual revision of the Unofficial Guide to Las Vegas, a tome I’ve contributed to lo these many years. I covered the fun of the research trip experience for Slate a couple years back, so peruse that if you like. Hereabouts, I’ll try to focus a bit more on the places I’m visiting, what I’m doing, etc. I’m at Hooters because my boss couldn’t get another room at the Wynn, where he’s relaxing with another researcher. Really, it’s OK.
I like orange and light wood veneer. More on that later. Meanwhile, expect plenty of grousing about food, drink, and entertainment, some of it, almost live!