"Do you have a cell phone?" asked Bert, the whacked-out cabbie.
   "Yeah, but it's in my bags in your trunk," I explained half-sympathetically, thinking he may have badly needed to make a call and was going to ask to borrow it.
   "Good," he replied cordially.

That was my first clue that Bert was whacked-out. My next clue came when we passed a cop car parked by the side of the road. He was moved to get on his cabbie radio and announce the presence of "The Gestapo" to all the other cabbies that might be passing by.

You see, he didn't need to make a call after all, he was just concerned about cell phone radiation. Hoo boy.

There were other things Bert was concerned about. Money for instance. Bert was able to quote the construction cost of just about every hotel on the strip, and he was pleased to go into some details about the horrors of the taxes and fees he had to pay just to drive a cab in this town and how in return for 900,000 miles of accident free driving they only gave him a pin or some little trinket.

One thing Bert was not worried about was offending anyone. He was in possession of some seriously filthy, misogynistic, racist, homophobic jokes, which he was glad to share. I laughed loudly, not at the jokes but at the fact that this guy went on like that without the slightest clue who I was. I could have been a minister or gay or a card-carrying member of Society for Political Correctness for all he knew. I guess it didn't matter here in Sin City.

Bert's restaurant recommendation was a place called Drai's, which he knew to be 'fine dining'. He was especially enthusiastic about some sort of cream dessert that he didn't know how to pronounce. Further inquiry revealed that it was Crème Brule. He was also pleased that despite the fact that Drai's was most certainly 'fine dining', they did not make him take off his baseball cap. (Note: I never got to Drai's but it does seem to have a good reputation. Sadly, I have it pictured as a sea of chubby fellows in their Sunday-go-to-meeting flannel shirts and baseball caps struggling to order Crème Brule.)

Another thing Bert was ready to recommend was football winners. This struck a chord with me. I had planned to bet football games (and try to avoid the blackjack table) and sure enough, as soon as I set foot in Vegas I have a chance run in with Bert, the whacked-out cabbie, who has football picks at the ready.

Like all fast-living high-rollers, I accepted this as kismet and decided to bet the picks.

The Luxor is shaped like a pyramid and has a Sphinx that you pass through to get inside. It is, by Vegas strip standards, a good quality hotel; by any other standards, it would be stellar.

To get to the front desk of the Luxor, you have to walk through the casino. To get to your room, you have to walk through the casino. To get to the pool, you have to walk through the casino. To get to the restaurants, you have to walk through the casino. You see the pattern? In fact, everything about the layout of the Luxor is disorienting. After two days I still had no clue where I was in relation to anything else, I had to look at the signs to get anywhere and, of course, the signs led me through the casino.

Upon check-in I was suggestively sold an upgrade to a suite, which I blame on a moment of confusion from being so disoriented by the mesmerizing pyramidal casino environment and not on my shallow personal values. Lucky for me, this was not a standard hotel suite upgrade, which usually means you get a little vestibule with a door to a separate bedroom. This was one sweet suite: a big living area, with plenty of room for entertaining guests; a comparably large bedroom with king sized bed; two TVs; a separate shower stall and Jacuzzi. All in all, pretty darn close to the square footage of my condo (which does not include a Jacuzzi).

I had not expected to spend any extended time in the Vegas sun, but I did. Every morning was spent slathered in oil by the pool. Yes it was blistering hot, but it was a DRY heat. (You knew that was coming, didn't you?) I was seriously dark by the time I left. The pool at the Luxor was very nice. Actually there were about five pools of varying shapes and sizes, but some were never opened; in fact, though they were full of water and looked clean, they were roped off. Naturally there were waitresses wandering around taking cocktail orders. I am quite proud to say that I did not give into temptation and margarita myself silly before noon.

One place where the Luxor falls short is in the restaurant department. My first dinner there was at Papyrus, supposedly Asian fine dining. I had expected something more pan-Asian - a little Thai, maybe some Vietnamese - but it was actually pretty much standard Chinese fare. Not a bad Chinese restaurant, but nothing special. Similarly their Sushi bar, Hamada, was equally uninspiring. The more upscale Sacred Sea Room was somewhat better, but still nothing to write home about.

The big draw at the Luxor is Blue Man Group. You probably know these guys from the Intel commercials. Blue Man intermixes some really top notch, percussion focused techno, with some somewhat cheesy audience participation skits. Silly stuff, like pulling some confused woman on stage for some improv with fake vomit. The gimmick is that throughout the show the Blue Men never speak, they just react like startled ostriches to everything. Minor ridiculousness aside, Blue Man kicks out some really great music; massive back beats, wild light shows and freaky animations all done in rhythmic synchronization. And in the end, you'll be covered in toilet paper. What more could you ask for?

One of the pleasures of Vegas is the strip itself. Walking the strip is where you can really get the flavor of the place. At night, it's the same sort of garish neon and high-tech LCD video display jamboree that you get at Times Square in NYC. You could easily spend a day or two just wandering the strip, which has escalator bridges across all the major intersections, and scoping out all the amazing hotels. For what it's worth, MGM grand looks like a winner, and Excalibur (medieval castle theme) might be a lot of fun, and there's a New York-themed hotel - New York, New York - with a legendary rollercoaster and a Coyote Ugly night club that is probably featured on one of those E! Wild On specials. Caesar's Palace looks like it might be more old school. Paris is Paris-themed - go figure. I found myself regretting that I never got inside the Venetian or Mandalay Bay or Treasure Island.

After a couple of nights in the Luxor, I moved to the Bellagio for two more nights. There's this one Star Trek episode where three of the red-shirted guys beam down to a planet on one flimsy pretext or another, and find themselves trapped in Vegas style hotel with a lively casino. As the story unfolds, we discover that they only way they will be able to leave is to find a way to break the bank. If the red-shirted guys happened to beam down to the Bellagio, there's no way they'd have gone back to that dreary spaceship and the series would have been cancelled. It's that good.

The Bellagio makes no attempt to confusing and disorienting you, it just dazzles you from start to finish. Your bags are taken before you enter and once you check in, they are brought to your room - can't have people wandering the lobby struggling with luggage, now can we? Covering the ceiling of the lobby is a glass sculpture meant to mimic the famous water lilies of Monet. Quite lovely. Fine arts influence is everywhere - in fact you could say that the Bellagio is a fine-arts themed hotel. There is a restaurant named Picasso that actually has real-live Picassos on display.

And speaking of restaurants, there were more good restaurants then you could try in a week, but you'd better have reservations. Even if they aren't busy, you'd better have reservations. Dinner at the elegant Le Cirque was about the third choice on my list and the only reservation available was quite early, about 6 pm, sorry nothing after that until after 9. All right, that'll do, then. Yet all through dinner, until maybe 7:30, the place was half empty. I suppose they may have been reserving half the tables for surprise VIP appearances. Food was reasonably good (I had the John Dory - no jokes please), service was the epitome of professional, very formal atmosphere - if I had been wearing a baseball cap they would have asked me to remove it and put on a jacket. And there was a nice view of the Bellagio's trademark dancing fountains.

I appreciate good service and quality food, but the formality is the only thing that really makes Le Cirque stand out. That's OK, some places sell the atmosphere and if a formal dining atmosphere was important to you, Le Cirque would rule. However, my favorite restaurants (such as the Common Grill in Chelsea) have much more casual atmosphere but the food quality is raised beyond compare. In the Bellagio, that restaurant is Olives.

Olives is owned by Chef Todd English, who was Iron Chef American in the short lived (did it even live long enough to be cancelled?) US version of the Iron Chef. He has a reputation for being an arrogant ass, but the food at Olives was second to none. You can't get a reservation at Olives, but when they open for dinner at 5 PM there is a brief period of time where they take folks on a first come first served basis. Another early dinner, but it was truly great food, and a professional yet casual atmosphere. Close to perfect.

Life at the Bellagio amounts to rolling out of bed mid-morning, wandering down past the exclusive shops (souvenir plates and teaspoons can be found at the in-house Tiffanys) to the pool (technically there are about seven pools, I think), where you get a delightful poolside breakfast then wander over to your lounge chair a just bake in the DRY heat for a couple of hours while you read your book and waitresses waltz by to see if you need a margarita. At night, you can explore nearby casino such as Caesar's Palace or Paris, both just across the street, or you catch a show.

The signature show at the Bellagio is Cirque Du Soliel's "O". Let me preface this by saying I'm something of an aficionado of Cirque Du Soleil; I've seen two - "O", and "La Nouba" in Orlando - in real life and most of the other shows on Bravo. Now, you will not be disappointed by "O", it is a remarkable show in that it is based on a water stage - essentially a big pool with sections the can rise up to provide platforms and pathways for the acrobats and performers. It's fun to watch them propel themselves across the stage to splashdown. And the engineering and coordination involved in producing such a unique show is mind-boggling. But I am bound to say that the acrobatics and the performers themselves are not the best Cirque Du Soleil has to offer. They are terrifically talented and entertaining, but they don't really match up to the acrobatics in Saltimbanco, which will leave you dizzy. If you're not a Cirque Du Soleil geek like me you will be beyond impressed by "O". Even if you are a Cirque Du Soleil geek like me, you won't be disappointed.

So it's Monday evening and I'm sitting in a big comfy chair in the sports book watching the game when a waitress brings over comp beer. It occurs to me that I've stayed at lots of fine hotels - Grand Hyatts, Ritz-Carltons - but the Bellagio takes the trophy. It is simply the best. Other hotels around the globe may match, or even exceed, its level of service and fine dining, but none of them have a sports book with big comfy chairs where they bring you free beer.

Although I would revisit the Bellagio in a heartbeat (perhaps about the time they are filming the sequel to Ocean's Eleven), there is more of Vegas to explore. Some say the Venetian is comparable. I'd also like to spend some time at the MGM Grand. I'm convinced the best way to do it is different hotels for a couple nights a piece. It worked out great, especially since I arranged the less expensive one on the weekend when the rates are high, and the luxury property during the week and make yourself a nice little travel package.

Oh yes, I forgot - you can gamble in Vegas, too. I had some piddling losses thanks to some hateful, sadistic slot machines, but sure enough, the football picks from Bert the whacked out cabbie came through and I ended up ahead. You wanna be a high-roller, you got to mind the kismet. Vegas, baby.