January 25th - The Bank at The Bellagio

I broke a couple of my own revelling rules last night. I couldn't help it. I was a tad restless. I had a pressing need to have a reason to put on a dress. I live in Las Vegas.

Broken Rule #1: I went out late on a Sunday night before a working Monday. See what had happened was... I often consult a website, napkinnights.com, for the skinny on guestlists, events, venues and other sinful activities in Las Vegas. Last night, there were two venues offering complimentary entry. I decided that I would take Bellagio's The Bank up on their offer. The Bank was supposed to be holding some sort of Las Vegas' Top Model event. I'd never partied there and I realized that I've never actually gone down to The Strip on a Sunday night so I made a go of it. I got all dolled up in a little brown number, threw on my "bad bitch" trench coat and headed out the door at 10:00pm.

I should've known better. Sometimes, we hide from ourselves. Typically when venturing out to an affair, I pump myself up with such energetic recordings as N.E.R.D's Everyone Nose, LL Cool J's Jingling, Baby, or even Chevelle's Clincher. Last night, I rolled out blasting Jill Scott's Crazy and Sting's Windmills followed by a healthy helping of Erykah Badu. I was obviously not in the mood for kicking around on some low lit dance floor. Alas, I'm stubborn.

When one enters The Bellagio through the self-parking garage, one encounters the botanical garden. The theme of the garden changes depending on the season and holiday. In honor of Chinese New Year, the garden featured giant red lamps, a huge Chinese statue, and a lot of camera-happy Chinese people. Apparently, it is the Year of the Ox (or Ji Chou). I was reminded of my parents taking me to Chinese New Year festivities in San Francisco and Kung Fu Theatre on Saturday mornings. Wow, that sounds racist. Who doesn't love a good kung fu flick with the ridiculous voiceovers and such? I know it isn't representative of the entire culture but who doesn't think black folks at the mention of greens and cornbread? I rest my case.

Broken Rule #2: I went to a nightclub before 11:45pm. I continued my trek to The Bank, skipped the line and peeped the scene. It always kills me the way the promoters keep a line of people waiting outside of a practically empty club. It was a quarter to 11 for crying out loud. The interior of the club was still ice cold. Guests were lined up around the perimeter of the dance floor staring at it instead of actually dancing on it. I stifled a yawn and headed to a surprisingly empty bar. I expected the early arrivals to at least be in the midst of consuming courage. Not so. When I got to the bar I learned why. Now I know better than to squander my hard earned funds on watered down drinks at a Strip property. It is instead custom to do a pre-drink gathering at a friend's house beforehand or take bottles in the trunk of the car and self-serve upon arrival in the parking lot. I figured one drink at the actual venue shouldn't be too steep. I asked for white wine. All they had was Chardonnay, but they did offer an amazing champagne to the tune of $20 a glass. I ordered a Corona. They wanted $9 for a lousy bottle of beer. I kept my usual dollar tip. The nerve!

I consumed my beer, took note of the somber-faced guests being ushered in, resisted the urge to start dancing to a Nas remix and left at about 11:15pm. I turned down the hand stamp for reentry and was about ready to write off The Bank, when I stopped to get the lowdown from a regular. Derrick, who managed an exotic car share lifestyle club, (http://www.fantasycarshare.com/) advised me that 12:30am was the time the party would actually start. He also recommended that I request the ladies' free drink card on my next visit. I exchanged business cards and thanked him for the information. We'll chalk this up to a reconnaissance mission for the sake of future Sunday nights.

Still restless, I drove over to a friend's house for intellectual conversation and tequila shots. (Yes, I normally steer clear of tequila but this was a much safer environment than a radio station Christmas party....Oh man, that was some party.) On the drive over, I again appreciated 24 hour living. I could never go back to living somewhere that completely shut down at 2:00am. I do however wish that Las Vegas' 24 hour living would offer more than those things that could potentially get one in trouble. I would love to have a 24 hour bookstore or coffee shop or Internet cafe or roller rink or adult arcade. (I'm calling you out, Dave and Busters.) If nothing else, each restaurant chain should offer one 24 hour location especially during the summer. In Las Vegas, there is a market for it, I swear.

Inspired by the Chinese New Year, I ended the night watching The 36th Chamber of Shaolin. (A special shot out to Vallejo Senior High Class of '96's honors English class with Ms. Cochenour.) This movie literally and figuratively kicks ass. Like me and many of my blessed readers, it was born in 1978 and is officially thirty-something. Happy New Year, Oxen!