February 13th - Jet

If you're ever in Las Vegas, whether an apathetic native or a wide-eyed visitor, do yourself a favor and approach The Strip the way it was originally intended to be approached. Drive north on Las Vegas Boulevard from the 215 beltway at night when The Strip is in full swing. Behold the "Welcome to Las Vegas" sign in all of its classic glory and then let yourself be dazzled by the pulsating, undulating glow of the properties. It's like an adult-sized arcade. Dazzling, scintillating, wondrous, glowing with the promise of energy, motion and people. All of God's children just trying to escape the drain of the real world by escaping into their wildest grown-up fantasy. It's beautiful. It really is. In an electrically tempting sort of way. It's so different from my Bay Area hometown and I try never to forget that. I want to stay as curious about this great desert wonder as I can. Keeps me coming out every night...

Listening to James Browns' Funky Good Time, I was on my way to Mirage Hotel and Casino to party at Jet. I arrived wayyyyy too early. There was no line for me to cut and since that's part of the fun of going to these various places, I decided to walk about the casino. I'd just been there the night before but I hadn't given myself the opportunity to take in the vibe. It's cool. Mirage is a bit smaller than other properties like Ceasar's Palace and The Venetian, but it has its own distinctive amenities such as the gorgeously huge aquarium in the main lobby and free wine tasting on Fridays from 5pm- 7pm.

I circled back around to Jet, informing security that I was indeed there to attend the private open bar business event before the actual club opened. When he asked if I had a business card (and then informed me it was okay if I didn't), I regarded him momentarily before giving him a forgiving smile. Foolish mortal. I was pleased when he back-pedalled after seeing my card holder. I'll assume that he believed I was too devastatingly young and beautiful to have a business card. Easy mistake.

I checked my coat and made small talk with the checker. She was expecting and confirmed that her baby would probably be some kind of dancer because the little one was always dancing around in utero on account of his mom's surroundings. I scooped up my free screwdriver cocktail from the bar and regarded the crowd. Pretty thin. I drank alone for a moment, jotting down notes on a napkin as if I'm some kind of writer when I met Gilbert.

Gilbert was a very stylish 40-year old local who had recently become his own boss after working for a cosmetic retailer. He loved experiencing the nightlife but was having difficulty convincing his agemates to brave Friday's events after a long week of working. We discussed how we make time for the things we want to do and we don't allow age to be an excuse. I shared the finer points of marketing via social networking with him and gave him my word that I would invite him out with me on my next date with the city.

I'm inclined to believe that Jet suffers a bit during the winter months. The last time I was here had been on a very crowded summer night. There was no open bar and no free anything. On this night however, one of the lovely hostesses came around regularly with free lemon drop shots. My new friend, Gilbert and I partook in a couple and then hit the dance floor where I skated about in typical OutPast30 fashion for two hours. I'm proud to say that even without stretching, I experienced no soreness this morning. :)

I like that Jet offers their female guests a chance to swing around on poles in the middle of dance floor. Took me back to my high school days of cage dancing at City Nights. Don't even dare try to blackmail me, Li'l Bobby. I just ratted myself out. I fought the urge to swing around those poles for about half hour before giving in. Another lady took my hand and climbed up on the platform with me where I immediately slipped and fell on an abandoned drink. I played it off, twirled around the pole a couple of times and then left both the platform and the dance floor as if I had just given a show-stopping performance. Inside my head, I couldn't stop laughing. I think I'd been about the fifteenth falling casualty of the night. Time to go home.

I grabbed my coat, snapped a shot with some random lady waiting at the exit and made my way to the escalators. Crossing the catwalk to the parking garage, I again regarded The Strip. Gorgeous. Seemingly painted across the night sky. I can't believe I live here.