From the Wine-of-the-Month Club's bi-monthly magazine, Good Taste.

'Need Money'... for booze and gambling? Even the beggars in Las Vegas, with their hand-made cardboard signs on the intersections, know what runs this city. Best way to get there? By plane at night. Miles of black, then a bouquet of light.

McCarren airport is a fitting introduction — a sleek, modern hub not unlike Joburg International, but with its sole distinguishing feature being slots throughout. I arrive at 10pm, but it could be 3am; it just doesn’t close, in case one more desperate gambler decides to come.

A city that doesn't sleep
Driving down the Strip I look up and see names from the movies: MGM, Mandalay Bay, Paris, Ballys. All begging me to come in and win from them. I check in at the Bellagio, a five-star masterpiece with musical fountains — sounds kitsch, but they’re amazingly impressive. And if you like the music you can buy the CD.

If you expect a world top-100 hotel to be a temple of hushed reverence, you’re wrong. I feel like I’m at a movie premiere. More bright lights than a convention of near-death survivors. I don’t see notorious gambler Ben Affleck but I do see billionaire Michael Dell, and he’s not even in the salon privé.

I booked over the internet, getting a great room at a fantastic rate. The view is to the Sierra Nevada mountains. But don’t look too intently. The hotel wants you to spend your money here. This is a city that doesn’t sleep, and I'm not going to.

Elegant it ain't
In Vegas there’s only one thing as treasured as money — privacy. No wonder whenever Michael Jackson wants to get away he comes here, a place where he feels normal. Do Not Disturb signs out at 3pm will not mean a maid enquiring after your well-being. Time has no meaning. A craving for fresh caviar and Polish vodka at 4am will be satisfied with a choice of venues. And vodkas.

It may be the biggest gambling town in the world, but Monte Carlo it ain’t. People don’t come for elegance — they come to gamble. There are 70-plus casinos in Las Vegas, and I’m here for 72 hours. They all have a hook, something to make you visit. The reference point in Vegas is the main strip, Las Vegas Boulevard, a three-and-a-half mile neon canyon starting in the South, becoming more ostentatious going north.

Walk the Strip
Walking is an option, but wear comfortable shoes. The large hotel casinos take up full city blocks. At the southernmost end of the strip is Mandalay Bay. In timeless Vegas tradition it’s an invention of the owners; there is no such place. But it is elegant and attractive.

VEGAS VIC & VICKI
Neon and Vegas go hand in hand, with the former introduced to the city around the time gambling was legalised in 1932. Most famous of the classic old signs is ‘Vegas Vic’, the massive waving, smoke ring-blowing cowboy who lit the way to the Pioneer Club (1942-1995). Further down the street is neon cowgirl ‘Vegas Vicki’. She was originally named ‘Sassy Sally’ after the strip club below. The two are said to have tied the knot.
Next casino up is the pyramid-shaped Luxor, boasting the world’s largest atrium. They used to have a boat going round the inside, the most pointless ride in town. After dealing with multiple complaints of being ripped off, they got rid of it. Then walk by the Excalibur, a fairytale castle without a princess or benevolent king, and into the New York New York. Miniature skyscrapers on the outside and a rollercoaster weaving between them. A sound-proofed room here is essential.

Further on is the Paris with its Eiffel Tower, Arc de Triomphe and Bleriot balloon moored in perpetuity. In the Imperial Palace there’s an automobile museum of everything from Marilyn Monroe’s convertible to Liberace’s pink Cadillac. With external candelabra. And all for sale.

Then there’s the Venetian, complete with canals and mini San Marco square. Under roof. They wouldn’t want nature interfering with the gaming experience. The singing gondoliers are doing a roaring trade, with a queue waiting for the semi-authentic experience. I pass.

At Circus Circus, there’s a full-on show with acrobats, jugglers and omnipresent clowns — a worthwhile visit for those following in Hunter S Thompson’s footsteps. Then comes one of the strangest attractions, the Stratosphere. A tower with a rollercoaster at the top. A place to avoid for the vertiginous.

Click here for more on walking the Vegas Strip...

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