LAS VEGAS – With check-out time at noon at the Gold Coast and check-in time at four at The Palms, I’ve got four hours to fill with my bags checked and no room. So I head over to the Brendan Theaters in The Palms and finally catch up with Pirates of the Caribbean: At World’s End. What is this thing? Nine hours long?
The Gold Coast to The Palms is a nice piece of culture shock. The GC is an old local joint, which does a heavy business in pensioners from Arizona and young families on a budget. The Palms strains to be the most ostentatiously hip casino in town – they’ve hosted Celebrity Poker Showdown, when Real World came to Vegas, they stayed at the Palms – if you’ve got, oh, $10K a night, you can book the Real World Suite for you and your buds to party in, and it has its own basketball court. The cocktail waitresses look like Goth hookers, there’s the world’s lone surviving Playboy Club (I’m not sure if that’s hip, but what the hell) and the clientele is about 30 years younger, on average, than at the GC. Among female customers, there are more artificial enhancements and visible thongs than you’ll see in any building that isn’t a strip club, and that’s when Britney’s not drinking at the Ghost Bar.
Do have a spectacular Strip view, however.
Spend the afternoon in the Binion’s Omaha 8 tournament. It’s a well structured tournament for the price, but after six hours, I run out of luck and grab a cab back to my hotel. Hoping to do better Tuesday in the Series.