Chris Mohney, travel writer. - By Chris Mohney

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Entry 4

Posted Thursday, April 4, 2002, at 11:29 AM ET

Chris Mohney is an editor and writer for the "Unofficial Guide" travel series.

The day begins with a rousing bout of hotel work. This is one of the more tedious tasks associated with updating travel guides. Sadly, it's not a matter of spending a night in each hotel in order to test its mettle to the fullest. For most hotels, we rate their rooms on five-star and 100-point scales. We check any new hotel, any hotel that's renovated its rooms, any hotel we haven't seen in awhile, and any hotel that the balance of reader mail suggests we might have misrated initially.

Fortunately, with the hotel boom leveling out in Las Vegas, there are less than 20 places to check this year. I'm cramming hotel visits in between shows and buffets. Today I only manage to get five done. It takes me about five to 10 minutes to rate a room, running down a list of features, qualifications, and evaluations that make up our rating system. I usually spend more time trying to get into the rooms than I use to actually rate them. Since our books are unofficial in name and spirit, it's best if a hotel you're rating doesn't know you're there. Otherwise you will often be shown a "model" room that is never rented and doesn't reflect the hotel's legitimate level of upkeep and cleanliness. So, I either sneak into a room as it's being cleaned by housekeeping, or I present a fabrication to the front desk about how I'm staying in whatever other hotel is nearest, and I'm thinking of switching to their obviously superior property, and could I see a room? Few hoteliers can resist the idea of swiping business from nearby competitors.

Las Vegas guru Anthony Curtis

After the hotels, I meet up with my boss and Anthony Curtis, a Las Vegas publisher. Curtis is a former (and still occasional) tournament gambler who now runs Huntington Press, which publishes gambling books and other Vegas-related titles. He also publishes the Las Vegas Advisor, a truly indispensable newsletter about all things Vegas. He's the kind of guy who knows everything from what moguls are behind the latest billion-dollar casino deal to which slot machines pay best on what days all the way down to which buffet has the best shrimp. The Advisor's Web site even keeps up-to-the-day current information about prices, dates, odds, and most any other inside dirt you could ever want about this town. Curtis' detail-obsessed methods are in synch with our own, and we swap tips and gossip for awhile.

Elvis impersonator Sonny Boline; treat him nice

After lunch, my destiny is the Elvis-a-Rama Museum, a smallish joint that has a couple of Elvis impression shows. Their "old" Elvis is played by Sonny Boline (they also have an 18-year-old impersonator who does the young Elvis). Boline is a friendly, devout Minnesotan who really does a great Elvis singing voice—much better than the guy I saw yesterday at the New Frontier casino. The room is sparsely populated, but everyone here is a die-hard King fan, so Boline's show is well received. I rejoin my boss for a quick dinner, and then it's back on the show beat again. First, we take in Jubilee! at Bally's casino. This is a traditional Las Vegas chorus-and-dance-line show done up to the n^th degree, and it's topless, of course. The show has been running for decades—it was originally an Americanized response to French revues like Les Folies Bergere—and it's an eye-popping spectacle to say the least. All the songs are maniacally upbeat and uptempo, and the production itself is so over the top it's not even visible from the ground anymore. My favorite is a complete non sequitur from the sinking of the Titanic to a patriotic go-go-USA dance number.

The evening's finale is the new La Femme at the gargantuan MGM Grand (the world's largest hotel, don't you know). Now, this topless show is something of a puzzler. It's imported from the venerable Crazy Horse Saloon in Paris, and the Vegas venue is built to resemble its Parisian forerunner. It's very arty with lots of nutty but cool lighting effects. The women are stunning and notably silicone-free. One number has a dancer visible only from the waist down, slowly rotating and grinding while a pair of hands—presumably the torso's owner—fondled and stroked her hips and her ass. The audience was entranced. Those French sure know how to objectify.

A view from the Voodoo Cafe and Lounge

It's well past midnight and I want desperately to crash, but I slog over to the Rio to check out their rooftop bar, the Voodoo Cafe and Lounge, and to find the elusive bartender Brian, who may have some nightlife tips for me. Unfortunately, Brian has already gone home, so I stick around and enjoy the view. The Voodoo Cafe pretty much beats out the competing Ghost Bar at the Palms, since the Voodoo is almost twice as large inside and out. I'll have to try and come back sometime when I'm not ready to collapse.

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