All I really wanted out of Vegas this time around was The Sun. Winter had been long and ugly and my one extended trip to points south took me to El Lay where it turned out to be cold and gray. I checked Accuweather religiously to watch for any variation from their fortnight-ahead, sunny and mid-seventies predictions, but the highs just kept getting higher the closer they got. Yes! I was going to bake. I was going to sizzle winter away. I was going to arrive frozen solid and return medium-rare. I had five days, but one was taken up by some silly meetings for work, so every bit of pool time counted.

So given that my plane was landing at 1:15, I figured a half hour to get through the airport, a half hour to get a cab and get to the hotel, and half hour to get checked in and unpacked -- that meant by 3pm I should be flirting with skin cancer.

As you can probably guess, I didn't make it. You see Las Vegas has one of those airports where you must shuttle from the gate to the terminal. Las Vegas also has one of those airports where you have to wait for the third shuttle because it's so busy. Las Vegas also has one of those airports that makes you wait forever until your luggage comes out of the carousel and when it does, it averages one bag every 30 seconds or so -- presumably so the baggage handlers don't miss anything expensive. Las Vegas also has one of those airports where my bags -- and I am not exaggerating here -- are the absolute last ones to appear. Las Vegas also has one of those airports where the line for the cab stand swerves around, doubling back on itself several times like a giant anaconda -- a giant anaconda of DOOM -- and as you step to the end of the line, the skycap merrily tells you, "about a 45 minute wait".

By the time I finally arrived at Caesars Palace, I might have been able to catch waning rays of the sun if I could have checked in and changed quickly, but they didn't have my room ready. Kiss Day 1 in the Sun goodbye.

I spotted some people out on a restaurant patio overlooking the pool where I could at least watch the sun as it faded lower and lower; it looked like a decent spot to grab a bite and a drink while I waited. So a made my way there through the casino, because you can't get anywhere in Vegas without going through a casino, but as it turns out the patio was closed and the folks out there were just finishing. Well OK, just give me any table -- no wait, not just any table, give me one where I can get some mediocre, overpriced food but only after a fairly long debate among the wait staff concerning how I got sat in a closed section and who was going to take my table because apparently too many people had been promised their shift was over. That's how I really want to start my trip.

In time, they managed to find me a room. Being a hotel and all, I knew they'd stumble into one eventually. So I made my way back through casino, past some shops, and through another casino to the elevator. This is the point I decided not to gamble at Caesar's. Over the course of my trip I would also be staying at the Flamingo and Mandalay Bay so this wasn't the end of the line for me, but I was so frustrated with them by this time that I decided I would not give them the benefit of my gaming money. In the course of my stay, nothing came up to change my mind. OK, that's a lie. I did make a small wager on a basketball game, but I won so Ha-Ha-Ha, they still didn't get any gambling money from me.

Caesar's Palace has a lot of glitz. It looks beautiful, but the fact is, beneath the surface it's not all that. My room clearly had not been redecorated since 1975, although the bathroom was nice. And despite all the time they had to prepare it, it wasn't terribly clean. Apart from the bathroom which had a nice big whirlpool tub and separate shower stall I'd put it on par with say, a roadside Holiday Inn but with a smaller TV.

After unpacking I decided to check out the lay of the land. The big attraction at Caesar's is Celine Dion, who performs in a newly built building shaped like a coliseum. When Celine is not playing Elton John subs for her. I have no interest in either of them really, so I didn't bother to find out the price, but I am sure it's godawfully expensive. Caesar's is also famous for the Forum Shops, an attached shopping mall which is exactly that -- an attached shopping mall.

Apart from Celine the other entertainment Caesars was pushing was something called Shadows. The big thing in Vegas these days is a concept called the ultra lounge. An ultra lounge sits between the madness and squalor of a night club and the quiet passivity of a sophisticated, upscale bar. I suspect this is more a matter of marketing than actual experience. Shadows appears to be Caesars' take on an ultra lounge. In Shadows there are exotic dancers, but they dance behind a screen and are backlit so that only their silhouettes are seen. Shadows -- get it? Meanwhile, the bartenders are all skilled at doing the Tom-Cruise-in-Cocktail juggling of drinks and liquor bottles. Not to disillusion you, but those bottles they are juggling are not full of liquor; they are dummies (the bottles, not the bartenders -- although...), you could not effectively juggle actual liquor bottles because of the inconsistent weight and balance. Plus they break when you drop them.

Somehow I was served a gin and tonic despite the fact that I ordered a martini; understandable since the bartender wasn't really a bartender, just a juggler waiting for a call back from Cirque du Soleil. The fact is, there was nothing all that compelling about Shadows, so I moved on.

The primary night club at Caesars is called Cleopatra's Barge, notable for the dance floor being on a replica of a barge that is actually floating in a small pool. It seemed to be populated with some seedy characters -- definitely not the night club type, more like type at the local dirt-kickin' country music waterin' hole. This was not surprising since there was a big Nascar Race that day. I decided against Cleopatra's Barge and wandered back through the casino where I stumbled on this small lounge, couldn't have sat more than 30 peoplem where there was an old-school lounge singer, along with a keyboard player and pre-recorded accompaniment, who was doing dead-on renditions of old Rat Pack songs -- Sinatra, Dean Martin, et.al. It was a perfect symbol of new Vegas, they've made replicas of everything, even old Vegas. I settled in with a bourbon on the rocks and enjoyed the show. The guy was actually very good -- beat the heck out of paying 3 figures for Celine Dion. I was able to finally relax after the day's travel and I almost forgave Caesar's Palace for the mangled proceedings earlier in the day.

The next morning I set out in search of some breakfast. I really didn't want to do the whole breakfast buffet thing; I wasn't that hungry and I have philosophical distaste for all-you-can-eat. I asked if there was a spot in the hotel just to get a light bite and read the paper, the answer was no, the buffet is really all there is. Well, OK. I head over to the buffet only to see a protracted line -- another anaconda of DOOM. I chose not to wait 45 minutes for a turn at the trough. A little more wandering around the premises found me a Starbucks knock-off where I could get a banana nut muffin. There's a fresh experience.

The good news was that I got out to the pool, or more correctly pools, to catch the full brunt of the morning rays. There are three pools at Caesar's one of which is empty and undergoing renovations and one of which is closed for no good reason that I could see except they didn't want to pay lifeguards. Whatever. I corralled a lounge chair, covered myself with sunscreen and settled in to bake.

It wasn't long until things stated to go sour. First, this strange duo consisting of a portly middle aged conventioneer and an rail thin elderly black man situated themselves immediately behind my chair and began loudly doing calisthenics and shadow boxing. This continued for a good ten minutes until they were both sweaty and out of breath. Luckily, one of the pretty girls in bikinis came by and took my order for a Margarita to distract me and so I could look at them pitifully as I sipped my drink in the sun and cause them to wish they were me.

No sooner was I rid of Richard Simmons' weird cousins when this annoying older couple with the most nasal New York accents you could imagine positioned themselves on either side of me. I have no idea why they would do that; there were plenty of empty chairs next to each other. This would have been no problem if they were quiet, but they had been to the buffet and felt the need to revisit the morning's experience.

Her: Did you have the eggs?
Him: What?
Her: Eggs. Did you have the eggs?
Him: No, I had the waffles.
Her: Waffles?
Him: Yeah the waffles?
Her: I didn't see you get waffles.
Him: I had 'em.
Her: Well, I thought you had the eggs.
Him: No, I had waffles.
Her: The eggs were good.
Him: Yeah?
Her: Yeah.
Him: I had the waffles.

Oh My God! Shut Up About The Bloody Waffles! I was like George Castanza stuck living with his parents.

By now it was shortly after Noon so I left food critics to continue their scintillating analysis and hit the poolside snack bar where, despite only being third in line, I and ended up waiting close to a half hour to get a lousy -- and I do mean lousy -- sandwich. At the freakin' snack bar! I was about to ask them to cancel my order only it was clear that it would take them even longer to do that. It was at this point I realized that the food service department at Caesar Palace was uniformly incompetent. Not rude or mean, not really even lazy, just incompetent. Perhaps this is their policy.

One half of the annoying couple was gone by the time I got back so at least I had some peace and quiet. In time I ordered another margarita from a different bikini clad girl; she said she would bring me a "Caesar-rita" instead, which tasted better for the same price. Except it tasted exactly the same and it wasn't the same price, it was more expensive. I let it slide cause I was in Vegas and I was not going to make a fuss over a couple of dollars, but I did take note that the same thing happened to another woman a few chairs down, who did complain about a similar problem and got it corrected. Suspicious.

Despite all the exasperation I managed to get a good deal of sun; I burned everywhere I couldn't reach with sunscreen, so it was probably just as well that by 3 pm I called it a day, cleaned up, and went out to walk the strip.

The only major change I saw in the strip was the addition of a Jimmy Buffet's Margaritaville. I had heard about this from the cabbie who brought me in from the airport. She seemed to think it was an important thing to see. Um, why exactly? Adding a Margaritaville to Vegas is like adding a strip mall in L.A. This is not an event. Besides, I've been to the original Margaritaville in Key West and it's nothing to write home about. Adding slots wouldn't help.

Further north up the strip is Treasure Island, the pirate themed property with the famous Pirates of the Carribean show out front. Pirates of The Carribean was not happening as I passed. Nothing much was -- they were rehearsing a new show titled Sirens of Treasure Island, which no doubt provided a good opportunity to prance scantily clad women around along with the associated soaking from a dive in the sea. They weren't in costume for the rehearsal so I can't say for sure, and they seemed to be doing a lot of standing around and getting yelled at by the disembodied voice of the director over a loudspeaker. Still there was a sizeable audience, which is a testament to the popularity of anything that is free in Vegas.

Yet further north past a string of cheesy shops stands the fabulous Venetian, an enormous, palatial entity themed after Venice (surprise), except where in the original the canals are filled with brackish water that flows past scraggly buildings full of old world character, the canals here have relatively clean blue water and flow through a shopping mall. Plus, there's a casino.

The Venetian really is a beautiful place. The ceilings are all painted ala the great churches and cathedrals of Italy. The architecture is faux renaissance, but it's good looking faux renaissance. More interestingly, the famed Guggenheim Museum maintains a gallery on the premises and at the moment they were showing a sort of retrospective entitled A Century of Painting from Renoir to Rothko. It was a mildly interesting show, especially notable for the later Picassos after he had moved on from cubism, some very interesting works. I can also verify that the Guggenheim Hermitage Museum at the Venetian contains no slot machines whatsoever. By that time, the quiet was disconcerting. I vowed to stay here one day.

On my way back to Caesar's I made a couple of not so quick stops to do some proxy betting. One was to drop 40 bucks into quarter slots. Since I had sworn off betting at Caesar's I stopped at one of the low-end hotel/casinos, Barbary Coast. The same cabbie who extolled Margaritaville suggested the old school, low overhead places were the best spots to play the slots -- never play slots at a hotel that is renovating (like Caesar's). I have no idea how true that is but there was nothing to lose.

There was a lot of action at Barbary Coast, they advertised things like single deck blackjack where the dealer hits a soft seventeen, which indicates they are catering to the odds conscious crowd. Sadly, even at Barbary Coast I was able to turn $40 of slot quarters into $17 in record time. Happily, it wasn't my money.

I also stopped at the Flamingo, where I would be staying the following night, and made another basketball bet figuring I could collect there the next day if it paid off (the spread there was slightly more beneficial, too).

My last stop was at my beloved Bellagio where I wandered through, wishing I was staying there, and stopping outside to watch the dancing waters in the night and pretend I was one of Ocean's Eleven.

The next day and night were spent at the Flamingo courtesy of my day job. Naturally, they didn't have my room ready. In fact, I heard stories from other people that on the previous night they had to make arrangements for guests to stay at other hotels (in hotel parlance this is known as "walking" someone) because they just didn't have enough housekeeping staff to clean the rooms. This was not sounding promising. It turns out the The Flamingo and Caesar's, along with The Hilton, Paris, Bally's, and some others are all part of an organization called Park Place Entertainment. I don't know if the same situation is going on a their other properties, but I'm guessing Park Place is having some labor issues considering they can't get rooms ready until the early evening and the food service is so piss-poor over at Caesar's.

On a good day, I'm sure the Flamingo is fine. There is a nice wildlife area, with penguins and, yes, flamingos, and a decent place to get a quick breakfast; you could get by OK here. At least that's what I thought until I finally got checked into my room in the early evening. My company had booked me into a suite (I cannot fathom why), which was little different than a standard room except there is a large enough sitting space to fit in an extra chair and a sofa. On top of that, the room was not what I would call clean; there were bits of paper on the floor and in the wastebasket. I think what they did was just have someone come in and make the bed I hope I would be too drunk on comp liquor to notice that it was still mess.

Worse than that was the noise. I don't generally spend time in my room when I'm away so in most instances I probably wouldn't have even noticed it, but I was going out for dinner with other folks who were attending the same function as I was and I wanted to get some shut eye before we left. So I lay down in my probably not too clean bed, hoping to get an hour or so sleep before we went out. That's when the person in the room above me started to jackhammer the floor. Once again, I am not exaggerating, it was earsplitting -- I could feel my fillings rattling. Turning on the TV to drown it out was like giving Snackwells to Rosie O'Donnell -- woefully inadequate. I called the front desk to ask what was the deal and they said the construction stops every night at 9. Great; dinner was at 8.

So rather than lay in my dirty room, trying to lip read the TV and position pillows to drown out the din I walked back down to the casino and placed another basketball bet -- this turned into a habit, I bet a game each night and won three out of five.

Dinner was at Wolfgang Puck's Spago which was ace. It was my favorite kind of restaurant where the food is awesome, the service is sharp, but it's not stuffy in the slightest. The only time I had previously eaten in one of Puck's restaurants was at the Cafe in Disney World which was so-so. Puck's restaurants are all over Vegas. I ate a couple of them and they were both excellent.

In any event, I was pleased to be checking out of the Flamingo the next morning. I think you can probably tell that my trip had been well over to the disappointing side to this point. That was about to change. I made my way to the south end of the strip where I would be spending the next two nights at Mandalay Bay. Here was my first clue things were looking up: I was able to check in at 1pm.

My understanding of the Vegas hierarchy has been that the Bellagio is on top, followed closely by the Venetian. I would now put Mandalay Bay up in the stratosphere with them. The obligatory theme is sort of nondescript tropical, but it's all shiny and immaculate everywhere you look. The standard room shamed the suite upgrade at the Flamingo. The bathroom was huge, the view was amazing -- I could see all the way up the strip (a fabulous sight at night, a real life Fantasia).

Among the wonderful things at Mandalay Bay is the pool complex. I couldn't tell you how many pools there are including a wave pool. There's also a "lazy river" -- a water path among the pools that you float through -- but it was out of commission. I immediately resumed my pursuit of the sun and so sequestered a lounge chair and a margarita next to the wave pool. As an experience, the wave pool rates as a mild curiosity. It's not like you get any ride-able curl. Get this: at Caesar's they had their main pool closed because (presumably) they didn't want to spring for lifeguards; the wave pool at Mandalay appears to have no less than 8 lifeguards on duty at all times, and it's not that big of a pool. There are four lifeguards whose duty it is to simply stand in the shallow end of the pool and keep watch. There is another one who does nothing but float on a surf board in the deep end where the waves emerge. It's insane. It's like a pool policy designed by a smothering mother. I'm sure part of the reason for this is the preponderance of rugrats.

It's an interesting dilemma, whether to bring kids to Vegas. There is certainly a lot of stuff for kids to do -- there are a lot of kid friendly shows, like Blue Man; there are roller coasters, and video game parlors, and helicopter rides, and Grand Canyon tours, and terrific pools. The downside is that sin is on display everywhere; they will be in regular proximity to people gambling and drinking, and enormous pictures and videos of gyrating scantily clad women are everywhere. Walking around on the strip there are guys constantly feeding you flyers for hookers -- excuse me, escorts -- so I wouldn't take kids walking the strip too often. But in the better hotels, despite the obvious availability of wanton hedonism, the atmosphere is one of total control -- your kids will not accidentally wander into a topless revue or be served a scotch and soda, and they won't get away with any shenanigans. Believe me, if there is anything casinos know how to do it is control the environment. As long as you don't freak out about the lurid bits I don't think your kids would either, they'll probably have the time of their lives. You'll just have to worry about it coming up at the next parent-teacher conference.

Not surprisingly, the readily available pools -- especially the wave pool -- can get very crowded. Not actually in the pool, but lounge chair choice may be thin, and service on the sketchy side. There is a remedy for that, which I will get to in a moment.

After a good bit of sun, some floating around in the wave pool and a couple of uniformly priced margaritas, I cleaned up and hit the casino.

To my way of thinking, you can't go to Vegas and not gamble. Well, you can, technically speaking, and probably have a good time with the shows (ala NYC) and the clubs (ala South Beach) and the sun and fun (ala Orlando) and the shopping (ala LA). OK, I was wrong; you can go to Vegas and not gamble. But when you gamble you are part of the action instead of just an observer. If you don't gamble, you haven't really Done Vegas, you've just been by for a visit.

Like any other activity, the trick to gambling is to know the rules. The old saw about the odds favoring the house is mostly true. But, there are activities where, at least theoretically it is not true. One, obviously, is poker where you are playing against the other players with the house only taking a pre-defined cut. If you are really a better poker player than the others at the table you should, given enough time for the random distribution of the cards to work itself out, come out a winner.

Sports betting is similar in that you are really betting against the market rahter than the house. Here's how it works. Let's say the line is Team X +3.5 over Team Y. That means at the end of the game you take Team X's score, add 3.5 points to it and compare it to Team Y to determine the winner. If I bet on Team X, they can lose the game by 3 points and I still win. If I bet on Team Y they must win the game by at least 4 points for me to win. (Note that baseball and hockey betting work on the same principle, but don't have straight +/- lines. If you are going to bet those sports, do some research to understand how the odds are quoted.) It's important to realize the way the odds are set do not reflect the opinion the casino, or some professional sports bureau, or some psychic they keep squirreled away somewhere. They reflect the point at which the casino feels they can get the same amount of bets on either side of the line.

Here's why. When you place a bet on a game you have to kick in the 10% for the house. So you if you want to win $100 you have to bet $110. If you win you get your $110 wager back plus the $100 winnings. If you lose, you lose the entire $110. In a hypothetical world where the house took one bet on either side of the game, they would pay out $100 to the winner, but keep the entire $110 wager from the loser. That is the game the casinos play with sports betting. If they get an equal amount wagered on either side of the line, they come out ahead. More precisely, they come out ahead about 4.5% of the total amount wagered ($10 gained out of $220 total wager in our example).

So it's not important whether Team Y is actually 3.5 points better than Team X. Nobody could possibly know that with enough certainty to take bets on it. It is important that bettors believe that to be the case on average. A casino can know with great precision what bettors believe by simply tracking how bets are going and making adjustments to the odds to keep an equal amount of money coming in on both sides. In practice, these adjustments rarely amount to more than a point, and usually none at all.

The upshot of all this is that you are not necessarily betting against the house or taking a 50-50 flyer. You are betting against public opinion, which has no obligation to be arithmetically rational. Often, odds will reflect that sentimental favorites have a better chance than they actually have just to keep the wager balance even. Now, this is not to say if you were sharp enough you could find a sure thing, or even win consistently. But gambling is not about that, it's about the challenge of getting on the right side of the bet to increase your odds.

Unlike sports bets and poker, you play casino games against the house and no matter what you do or how sharp you may be, you will lose in the long run. The only thing to do is use strategy to increase the odds to as close to 50-50 as you can. The closer you get to 50-50 the less unlikely it is that you will get a long string of winners. (The awkward couplet "less unlikely" was intentional.)

I don't play slots although millions do. People have strategies for playing slots, some casinos advertise the loosest slots in town, some even claim their slots pay even-money in certain circumstances. Whatever. I'm sure there are arcane ways to boost your odds a bit in slots. And I'm am sure there are guidelines to finding the machines most likely to pay out. But let's face it, slots are boring. The only thing they really have going for them is convenience.

Video poker is a little more interesting and again, there are strategies to get you the most beneficial odds possible. Sit at just about any bar in Vegas and you'll have your own personal video poker right in front of you. But unlike real poker you are at a mathematical disadvantage and, at least if they are similar to the horrendous video blackjack machines, you are much worse off than playing he real thing.

Roulette looks like it might be interesting for a brief while. If you really want to increase your odds you can bet odd or even or red or black in which case your odds are 50-50 less the chance the little ball will land on the green 0 or 00. My guess is that puts you in the 49.5% range. But still, how exciting is it to drop chips on odd or even again and again.

Keno is notoriously known for being the worst of all. Craps and Baccarat are supposed to offer excellent odds, but I don't know how to play them. What I do have a decent understanding of is blackjack.

Everybody knows the basics of blackjack. Everybody gets two cards; yours are face up, the dealer only has one showing. The dealer must hit anything up to sixteen and stand on seventeen (some casino force the dealer to hit a soft seventeen - one in which the ace is counted as 11). You have already placed a bet to get in the game (the tables have little signs on them indicating the minimum bet -- high-line properties rarely go below $10, middling properties will often provide a limited number of $5 minimum tables, at the low end some have $2 dollar tables where the guy sitting next to you may attempt to bet his teeth), so based on your cards and the one the dealer is showing you have to decide whether to hit or stand. Once everyone at the table has stood, or busted, the dealer reveals the hidden card and continues to hit himself until he reaches 17 or goes over 21.

If you just pay hunches, trends, hot streaks, you are playing the house's game. The worst thing that can happen to you is you play a wild hunch, make an unlikely win or two, then think you are immune to probability. Play like that and casinos will be glad to feed you all the free drinks you can order. On the other hand, smart strategies can decrease the dealer's advantage to the point where it is very close to 50-50.

Since all tens and face cards counts as ten, the very broadest strategy for blackjack is to assume that the dealers hidden card is a ten and the card you will get when you hit is a ten. For example, if you have 14 and the dealer has a 7 showing, you assume the dealer has 17 (ten for the hidden card) and because the dealer has to stand on seventeen, you hit because 14 will do you no good. If you have 14 and the dealer has a 6 showing, you assume the dealer has 16 so the dealer has to hit and will likely get a ten (26 total) so you stand on your 14 and wait for the dealer to go over 21 and you win. Also if the dealer has blackjack he will expose it immediately because unless you have a blackjack at that point you lose.

You have other weapons at your control, depending on the casino. First you can "Split pairs." If you are dealt an identical pair you have the option to split them at which point you separate your cards and the place an identical bet on each one. You then get a second card dealt for each of your split pair and you are effectively playing two hands. Knowing when it is more beneficial to split a pair and when to keep them together will shift things in your favor.

Another weapon is your ability to "Double-down." When you double-down you double your initial bet and get one more card -- that's it, you live or die with those three cards. Knowing when to double-down further shifts things in your favor.

Here is a guide on how to do this. Take some time to understand the principles and even if you don't turn the tables in your favor, you should at least be able to play for a good long time without ending up too far down.

Counterpoint: During the filming of Ocean's Eleven the cast spent some time gambling during the off hours. At one point George Clooney lost twenty-five straight blackjack hands. It is not clear whether he had a strategy.

In my case, I sat down in the late afternoon and I had doubled my money in about 45 minutes. Absolutely unbelievable. Now, it is not following the strategies that got me this, it was following the strategies and having good luck. The heavily drinking guy next to me was a little put out by my success, claiming that he had been playing blackjack for the last 27 hours and had nothing to show for it except a string of female dealers who were pissed-off at him over his ham-fisted flirting techniques. He was "trying to play through a streak," whatever that meant.

I'm glad he was there to remind how stupid gamblers behave. I cashed out and walked away, pretty much satisfied that I would end my trip in the plus column.

Now, back to the pool situation. There are two somewhat private pools in the Mandalay complex. One belongs to the Four Seasons. No, not Frankie Valli's backup band. I mean the Four Seasons hotel. I have spoken of the Bellagio as the creme de la creme of the strip, but in fact, the Four Seasons is generally more highly rated as a traditional hotel. Many people don't realize there is a Four Seasons on the strip. It occupies the top four floors of Mandalay Bay. That's right, the top four floors of Mandalay are actually another hotel, with a separate entrance. This is a fascinating concept from a business perspective. There is no casino in the Four Seasons, in fact there are no external facilities at all, you just get the same Four Seasons quality hotel experience you would at any other city. They get an elite location on the strip, without having to get a gaming license and sullying the uber-stylish Four Seasons name with gambling. In exchange, their guests get low-key luxury, and a bit of separation from the unrelenting sin, but with the casino of Mandalay Bay a few short steps away. Plus, they get a private pool in the Mandalay complex. The Four Seasons pool looked to have about six people sitting around it at any time, with these comfy looking lounge chairs (as opposed to the wave pool where you were shoulder to shoulder with your neighbor). Of course, not being a guest of the Four Seasons I had to remain on the outside looking in. I was tempted to try to get a look around the Four Seasons by claiming I was a travel writer, which would not be untrue, but the sun beckoned.

The other private pool is accessible -- for a price. Mandalay provides an adults only pool or, in their formulation, an aqua lounge. This aqua-lounge is called Moorea. It costs $10 to get in for the day, the exception being off-season weekdays when admission is free but there is $10 surcharge if you have a penis.

I guess I don't know what constitutes a 'lounge' because there really wasn't any sort of 'lounge' aspect to Moorea that I could see, by which I mean there was no ear-splitting music and obnoxious, drunken revelers. Good. There were the same comfy looking lounge chairs that the Four Seasons pool had, and they supplied all the sunscreen you needed, and there were enough pretty waitresses in bikinis to actually provide prompt service, and topless sunbathing was common. All good. Were you so inclined you could rent a day bed for $100-ish dollars -- if you needed room for two (or three, or four). They also had pavilions also available, but when I asked about the cost, they suggested I see my casino host. (A casino host is someone assigned to a high roller to make sure they get everything they want so they will gamble excessively.) I nodded knowingly rather than act like the casino hostless small roller that I am.

Moorea is very much worth the ten spot to get in. I spent my last full day finally catching up with my long lost friend, The Sun, chatting with the other Mooreans, and sketching out the bare bones of what would become the article you are currently reading. Thank you, Mandalay Bay, for saving my trip.

My final morning I overheard that the delays in people processing at the airport we so severe that they were recommending arriving 3 hours before your flight. Luckily my flight wasn't until later so decided to spend the morning at the Mandalay Spa before fighting my way home. The spa is pretty nice, a decent sized gym and a good assortment of hot whirlpools, warm whirlpools, and cold plunges; lots of shower stalls, fully outfitted with all the toiletries, hair condiments and shaving gear you could want. Plus, they have a number of couches for kicking back and reading the paper or just taking a nap.

So here's what occurs to me while I'm hanging in the spa. You know that stupid commercial where the guy brags about spending a weekend in Vegas, without a hotel room? If you don't, trust me, it exists. Well, if you're willing to stay up all night and sleep days, it's not so hard. It would cost $30 for a non-guest to use the spa at Mandalay for the day (you save a whopping $3 if you are a guest). You just drop in round about 7 AM and crash on one of the couches for a few hours. When you come around you avail yourself of the convenient supplies, then head out for the night depredations. Return in the morning. Repeat as necessary. Another option would be to grab some Zzzzs at one of the hotel pools. The high-end hotel won't let you in without a room key but others will (there were no checks at Caesars or the Flamingo this time or at the Luxor last time). So I am no longer impressed by the notion of a weekend in Vegas without a room, it's not like you have sleep in an alleyway or stay up for 72 hours straight.

This is the kind of stuff that goes through my head. So never ask me what I am thinking about.

Eventually I had to resign myself to making my way back to the airport where I would encounter yet another giant anaconda of DOOM. But I made my flights and arrived at Detroit Metro airport in the middle of the night. When I left Vegas the temperature was 80. When I arrived in Detroit the temperature was 18. Welcome home.

Nothing to do but connive and conspire for next time. The Venetian is calling and maybe the MGM Grand or the Hard Rock. I'll bone up on the theory and practice of craps or baccarat. And maybe, just maybe, I'll actually leave the strip (not). So many possibilities. How can you not go back? Viva!